#mm: winter festival

[corroded-hellfire]

Where The Heart Is, Part 3 - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Christmas is getting closer, and your and Eddie’s relationship only grows stronger as you prepare for and enjoy the festivities together. You can read part two here!

Note: Merry Christmas! I would just like to apologize for any more errors than normal because I tried to rush this to be done by Christmas lol.

Warnings: underage drinking, smut, oral m!receiving

Words: 17.4k

[Where the Heart Is masterlist]

Wayne has to know what’s going on. There’s no way he could not know, with the way the two of you are constantly touching one another, giggling at whispered words, and the ever-present grins that have never come off your faces. He’s not a dumb man, and he knows what’s going on in that small back bedroom in his trailer. He also knows that Eddie’s a smart kid and that there’s a box of condoms in the bedside table right where Wayne told him to keep it.

And though Wayne hasn’t known you long, he can tell you’re a smart kid, too. The way you make Eddie smile is all he ever wished for his nephew. Wayne’s a proud uncle and knows he brought the boy up right when he sees him open doors for you, compliment you until you’re red in the face, or makes sure that you know you’re welcome in their home and to help yourself to anything. Wayne likes you. And he can see that Eddie clearly more than likes you.

One evening before Wayne has to head out to work, you and Eddie come in the front door, shopping bags in hand - Eddie being the gentleman and carrying most of them, of course - both with rosy cheeks from the winter air, laughing as you have some silly debate.

Wayne swears he’s never seen so many Christmas decorations before as you and Eddie unload them from the bags. There’s candy cane striped garland, snowman salt and pepper shakers, nutcrackers dressed in toy soldier attire, angel candle holders, snowflakes hanging from strings to be hung in the window, and even a small porcelain nativity set that sits perfectly on the counter. Wayne’s sure he’s never seen a more beautiful decoration in his life as he admires the mini baby Jesus asleep on the fragile yellow painted hay. He knows that when he comes home from work, the trailer will be a winter wonderland.

But Wayne hadn’t even seen the ornaments that the two of you had purchased. There were baubles in bright reds, purples, and pinks. Little golden bells, smiling elves, even an adorable tiny kitten wearing a Santa hat that you just needed to buy. The ornaments would stay in the bag for now though, since you hadn’t gotten the tree yet.

Since the dark of night came so early in the winter, putting lights up outside would have to wait until tomorrow, so you two would actually be able to see what you’re doing.

It was the end of a fun, cold day that you’d spent with Eddie.

“Hot chocolate?” Eddie asks.

“Mm, yes please,” you hum. As Eddie prepares the drinks, you walk over to the window and look out at the dark evening. If the orange streetlights weren’t so bright, you’d be able to see the stars since there wasn’t a single cloud above.

The hot chocolate is hot and comforting as you sip it while in Eddie’s arms on the couch. He sips on his own, coming away with a chocolate mustache each time. There’s no television, no music, just the two of you sitting in a cozy bubble, enjoying your drinks and each other’s company. Once the drinks are finished however, you two enjoy each other's company in a different, more naked way.

In the morning, once you’d thoroughly wrecked each other once again, you take a shower - together, to save water Eddie claims. But you can’t fault him for his idea while the hot water streams down your back and Eddie leaves scorching kisses on your lips and neck.

Finally putting clothes on that you intend to keep on for a while, you bundle up to face the bitter air outside. There’s a light dusting of snow on the ground as you and Eddie head outside, arms full of light strands. You untangle the mess of extension cords while Eddie drags out the ladder from behind the trailer. It’s tall enough to get Eddie on the roof, which was the goal. Carefully holding the handle of the staple gun in his mouth, Eddie climbs up, a string of lights hoisted on his shoulder.

Eddie’s been on the roof of the trailer many times in his life. Once even resulting in a broken arm. So he knows the perfect spot to start hanging the lights. You watch him work as your fingers move through the tangled wires. Bundled up in his leather jacket, boots, black jeans, the red scarf you insisted on buying him, and his adorable black beanie, he’s just about the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. As he gets down on his knees, ready to staple the strand of lights into place, his tongue pokes out of his mouth in concentration. It makes you giggle softly to yourself.

Eddie continues with the strands along the roof and you start connecting the plugs to everything once the cord situation is handled. By the time you’re both done, lights are hanging off the top of the trailer, framing the front door, and wrapping around the railings on the porch steps. A triumphant smile comes to your lips as you look at the cozy trailer all festive. Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulders as he takes in the view, too.

“Can't tell ya the last time this place had Christmas lights on it,” Eddie says, eyes still roaming around.

“Why?” you ask.

Eddie shrugs.

“Never seemed to matter. Christmas was never a big thing for us. Wayne and I get each other a present, exchange them, then the rest of the day goes about the same as any other day.”

“No Christmas dinner?” you ask.

“Sometimes,” he says. “It depended on Wayne’s schedule. We’d eat fish if he was home.”

“Fish?” you ask, nose wrinkling.

“Mhmm,” he affirms. “My grandmother - my dad and Wayne’s mom - was very Italian. It’s an Italian tradition to have the Feast of Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve. But it became mine and Wayne’s tradition to take one of his catches from the lake and cook it up for Christmas dinner.”

“That’s sweet,” you tell him, snaking your arms around his middle.

“What about you?” he asks. “How do you decorate your apartment?”

“Can’t put up lights outside, unfortunately, but I always get a nice wreath for our door.”

“Like that one.” Eddie nods to the pine wreath woven with red ribbon that’s hanging on the front door of the trailer. Another one of your purchases yesterday.

“Yeah, usually something like that. Then we’d have the tree in the living room, but that’s about it. I’d put up lights in my room, though. I’d hang them all around, watching them blink and twinkle as I fell asleep.”

“What about your Christmas dinners?” he asks.

“When I was little, they were pretty perfect. Four of us around the table in our house in the cutest suburb. There’d be chicken and mashed potatoes, and I always insisted on biscuits. But after Dad died, sis left, it was just me and mom in the tiny apartment. Christmas dinners became meatloaf if I could scrounge up enough ingredients around the kitchen. If I couldn’t? Maybe canned soup if there was any.”

Eddie presses kisses to the top of your head and opens his mouth to speak, when he’s cut off by a shout from behind you.

“Looking to connect with someone, Munson?”

Over your shoulder, you see Max bundled up in a hoodie, coming your way.

“What?” Eddie asks her as she comes to stand behind you.

“The lights,” she says, nodding her head at them. “Gonna talk with someone?”

Your brow is pinched in confusion until you remember what Nancy told you about Will communicating through the lights when he was in the Upside Down.

“No, just being festive, brat,” Eddie says.

“Hey,” Max says to you, a small smile on her face.

“Nice to see you again,” you tell her.

“You too. You here for Christmas?”

“I’m here until school starts back up again in January.”

“Really? That’s awesome.” Max looks genuinely happy that you’ll be around, and it warms your heart. “I can always hang out with you when Van Halen over here has to work.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and drops his arm from your shoulders.

“That sounds great to me,” you say and Eddie scoffs.

“She’s a horrible influence,” Eddie says, gesturing to Max. The redhead doesn’t deny it, just shrugs her shoulders.

“I think I’ll be okay,” you tell your boyfriend, patting him on the shoulder.

Late that afternoon, Eddie drives the two of you up to the tree farm, where families stroll through the rows of pines, trying to find the one that’s just right for their home. Hand in hand with Eddie, the two of you take your time walking around the small space. The scent of pine is overloading your senses and you think you’ll be able to smell it for a month after you leave this place.

The perfect tree for the Munson home is found in the back corner. It’s tucked away, two bigger pines trying to hide it from view. But Eddie catches sight of it first. He tugs you in the direction and reluctantly drops your hand so he can move offending brushes out of the way. The tree is the perfect size for the trailer. It’s full, needles dark and green. An employee helps you both load the tree onto the top of Eddie’s van and tie it down for the drive. You give the rope one more tug for good measure before you slip into the passenger seat.

The first mini argument you and Eddie have starts when you’re trying to set the tree up in the living room.

“No, the water goes there.”

“Babe, can you hold this or what? It’s going to fall on me.”

“I already said that! Twice!”

“It goes like this. Yes, I’m positive.”

There’s a part of you that likes squabbling back and forth with Eddie like this. It makes it feel like a real relationship, where you feel comfortable enough to express your thoughts and opinions without fear the other person will just leave you high and dry. You know you can have these silly little arguments with Eddie, but at the end of the day, he’s still yours. It’s a beautiful feeling, you’re just not used to experiencing it.

It’s decided that no decorations will go on the tree until tomorrow. That would give Wayne the chance to see it in all its natural glory, plus it’s getting late and Eddie wants to get you in his room. Now.

When you wake in Eddie’s arms the next morning, you can hear Wayne is already home, moving around out in the living room. One look at Eddie’s adorable sleeping face you can’t bring yourself to wake him. Doing your best not to move him too much, you carefully lift Eddie’s arm and place it down on his chest. You slip off the bed and tug on a pair of your boyfriend’s sweatpants and a Black Sabbath sweatshirt. The bedroom door hinges squeak as you open it, so you carefully close it behind you so you don’t wake the sleepy boy.

Wayne greets you with a smile as he sees you come into the living room.

“Mornin’ doll,” he says. “What’s got you up so early?”

You shrug as you pad into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

“Dunno,” you say. “You hungry? I could make pancakes.”

“Nah, you don’t have to do that,” Wayne says, waving a hand.

“I don’t mind,” you tell him with a smile. “I like to cook.”

Eddie opens his eyes to a cold, empty bed and frowns to himself. He thinks maybe you’ve gotten up to use the bathroom so he closes his eyes to wait for you. But when he hears your familiar giggle coming from out in the living room, he opens his eyes again and smiles to himself. He gets out of bed and is about to open the door to the hall when he remembers the only thing he’s wearing is his boxers. When he sees his Black Sabbath sweatshirt is no longer laying over his stereo, he rolls his eyes to himself, but there’s a fond smile on his lips as he thinks about you wearing it. Pulling on an old Hellfire shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his many piles of clothes around the room, he heads out into the hall and can tell by the buttery scent in the air that you’re in the kitchen.

“No, it’s true!” you’re saying as Eddie steps into the kitchen. You let out a squeal in surprise as Eddie swoops in, wrapping his arms around you from behind and hugging you close to his body. He places a big kiss on your cheek with a loud mwah!

“What’s true?” he asks you, sliding his hands down to your hips.

“Wayne doesn’t believe that you picked out the tree,” you say, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner with your batter-covered spatula.

“You usually come back with a sad looking thing,” Wayne says in his defense.

Eddie turns to his uncle who’s leaning against the other side of the counter. Even as he turns, your boyfriend manages to keep one hand on your hip.

“I have impeccable taste, thank you very much,” Eddie says.

“Before, I woulda said that was questionable,” Wayne says. “But you picked a winner as your girlfriend, so maybe you’re right.”

You beam in pride as Eddie turns back to you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“What’s the best girlfriend making, hmm?” he asks.

“Pancakes.” You reach up and wipe a bit of flour on the tip of Eddie’s nose. His tongue comes out of his mouth and tries to lick it off, but as talented as his tongue is, it’s just not long enough.

“You really are the best.” Eddie’s tempted to give your ass a playful smack, but he remembers his uncle is standing right behind him so he only kisses your shoulder before stepping back. He uses the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe his nose clean and walks around the corner to stand next to Wayne, giving you space in the kitchen.

“You kids got any plans today?” Wayne asks.

Nothing you need to know about, Eddie thinks to himself.

“Don’t think so,” is what Eddie says aloud. He looks at you to double check and you shake your head to say you don’t think so either.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks.

“Well, this lady at work, Abigail, has this booth at a Christmas fair. Was thinking it might be fun.”

“Aw, that sounds nice,” you say, using the spatula to stack the pancakes on a plate.

“A lady at work?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Wayne says, not looking at Eddie as he accepts a plateful of pancakes from you. “Thanks, darlin’.”

You slide a plate over the counter to Eddie, who blows you a kiss as he accepts them. Picking up the bottle of syrup and your own plate, you walk around and perch yourself on Eddie’s lap. He wraps an arm around your waist as he eats with one hand. It takes him a bit longer, but it’s worth it to hold on to you.

“These are delicious,” Wayne says between bites.

Eddie hums in agreement as she shoves half a pancake in his mouth at once.

The Christmas fair is in downtown Hawkins, and the entirety of Main Street is set up with booths, stalls, and tables selling an assortment of goodies. There are baked goods for sale, making the air smell sweet and delicious as you walk, fingers laced, with Eddie. Wayne walks on the other side of Eddie, his eyes scanning the owners of the booths as you pass, making you think Eddie might’ve been on the right track with his teasing before.

Wayne buys the three of you hot chocolate when the wind picks up and starts to whip around the street. Eddie’s bundled up in his leather jacket and you smile at seeing the red scarf you bought him around his neck again. You’d slipped your own jacket over Eddie’s Black Sabbath sweatshirt, having refused to take it off. Why would you want to when it kept you warm and smelled so strongly of your boyfriend?

You tug Eddie over to a few stalls, one selling handmade jewelry, one selling miniature figurines of animals, and another selling hand woven blankets and quilts. The talent showcased at each stop amazed you, unable to fathom how people could make such beautiful things with their bare hands.

The three of you are more than halfway down the street when Wayne says he’s spied the woman from work and you and Eddie follow him over to a booth where a friendly looking older woman with graying blonde hair looks over the table she’s behind, a beautiful assortment of ornaments spread out before her. Wayne clears his throat as you all approach and the woman looks up, a smile lighting her face when she sees Wayne. You and Eddie share a knowing look, sensing this crush isn’t one sided.

“Wayne, what are you doing here? I didn’t think this was your scene.”

Eddie’s uncle slips his hands into his pockets and gives a charming smile.

“Thought I’d come on by, bring the kids out for some Christmas fun,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, before apparently remembering you and Eddie are standing behind him. “Oh, this is my nephew and his girlfriend.”

She introduces herself as Abigail as you and Eddie shake her hand, introducing yourselves in return. As you look over the trinkets on the table, Eddie tugs on Wayne’s denim jacket and pulls him to the side.

“You’re not subtle,” Eddie whispers.

“What?” Wayne asks and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Just ask her on a date.”

“Eddie, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wayne says, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie whines, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve known you as long as you’ve known me, old man. You like her. Admit it.”

Wayne rolls his neck and Eddie smirks at the obvious nerves.

“Eddie…” Wayne trails off, not really knowing what to say. “Eddie, the more I get to spend time with Abigail, the more I can leave you two alone.”

Eddie’s face lights up and he nods.

“Come on,” Eddie says, hitting Wayne lightly on the chest. “I’ll be your wingman.”

“Good Lord,” Wayne mutters as they both step back up to the table.

“These are beautiful, Abigail,” Eddie says. He wraps an arm around your shoulders as he joins you in looking over the ornaments.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Oh, hey Wayne,” Eddie says, looking over his shoulder at his uncle. “Didn’t you say you wanted a new ornament to put on the tree?”

Wayne huffs out a sigh and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. You slip out from under Eddie’s arm and back up to where Wayne is standing. Abigail picks up an ornament to show Eddie and you let out a quiet giggle as he feigns interest.

“Tell me,” Wayne whispers to you. “How did Eddie manage to pick you up if this is how he is with women?”

This time you giggle louder and have to cover your mouth with your hand.

“I have no idea,” you whisper back.

Wayne steps up to the table, asking about the ornament Abigail is showing. Eddie politely backs away and comes over to you. He sends you a wink as he wraps his arm around your hips.

“See how I work my magic?” Eddie asks.

“Oh yes, Casanova,” you answer, leading him away from the booth. “Now come on, leave them alone.”

A few more stalls down, you come to a booth that’s selling custom painted clothing and accessories.

“Oh, look at these shoes,” you say, walking over to a pair of high top converse painted with symbols of New York City. There’s the Empire State Building, taxi cabs, the Statue of Liberty, and Broadway marquees. “They’re amazing.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “They remind me of the sneakers Robin wears.”

“Well, that’s perfect,” you say, nudging his arm. “What custom painting would she like on a pair? You can give them to her as her secret Santa.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Eddie’s brow furrows as he looks at the shoes, thinking of what he should have painted on them. His face quickly turns into a smirk and you don’t know if you should be worried or happy that he’s thought of something.

“Can I help you?” The woman who runs the stall comes up to you and Eddie. He inquires about getting a pair of the shoes painted, and when the woman tells him that she’s the artist and asks what he has in mind, he asks her for some paper and pencil. You stand over Eddie’s shoulder as he sketches. Quickly, you realize what the images are and you roll your eyes, in a loving manner, at your boyfriend. You hadn’t known Eddie was so good at drawing, though. You tell him as much when you’re done at that booth, the woman saying the shoes should be ready any day and Eddie would get a call.

“I didn’t know I was dating such an artist,” you say.

“Eh, I can doodle,” Eddie says as you walk farther down the street together.

“More than doodle, babe,” you say. “That was really good.”

Eddie’s cheeks are already flushed from the cold, but you think they get even redder at your words. The two of you come to the end of the fair, so you turn back around and head in the direction of where Wayne’s truck is parked. When you walk by Abigail’s table, Eddie’s uncle is no longer there, but he’s waiting for the two of you at his truck with a small package in his hands.

“Oh boy,” Eddie says as the two of you get closer. “What did she swindle you into buying?”

Wayne frowns and gives Eddie a huff.

“I don’t get swindled, boy. But I did see this and thought y’all might like it. If not, if I overstepped, just tell me and I’ll take it back.”

Both you and Eddie share a face of confusion as Wayne offers forward the package. Eddie takes it and starts to unwrap the layer and layers of tissue paper it’s rolled in. He pulls the ornament out by its red ribbon and holds it up for you both to see. It’s a wooden disc with a Christmas tree carved into it. The details are beautiful, from the star on the very top, down to the lights and ornaments adoring the branches, to the wrapped presents underneath. At the very bottom is the year 1986 carved in. To the left of the tree is your name, painted on in a delicate hand in red paint. Eddie’s painted name sits on the right of the tree, written in the same lovely handwriting.

“S’your first Christmas,” Wayne says with a shrug. “Something to remember it by.”

“Oh Wayne, this is beautiful!” You rush forward to throw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. He’s a little stiff at it at first, but eventually returns the affection. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

“Me too,” Eddie says, still staring at the ornament. He packs it back up in the tissue paper and pats Wayne on the shoulder as he walks by him to get in the van. It might’ve seemed cold to other people, but you were learning it’s just how these two were with one another. No flowery words or long embraces. There was teasing, small acts of kindness, and the occasional pat on the back or arm between this uncle and nephew.

You climb into the truck next to Eddie, and he immediately takes your hand in his own.

Once you get home, Wayne has to get some sleep before his night shift, so you and Eddie stay out of the house. Eddie makes sure your new ornament is safely in his room before the two of you get in Eddie’s van and drive.

It’s dark when the two of you get back, and Wayne’s already headed to work. The heat inside the trailer warms your bones and you let out a content sigh as you toe off your boots. You’re hanging up your jacket when Eddie comes back down the hall, your new Christmas ornament in his hands.

“What do you say?” he asks. “First one up on the tree?” When you nod with an excited grin, Eddie offers the decoration up to you. “You may do the honors.”

The tree is taller than you, but not so much that you’re unable to reach the top branches on your tiptoes. There’s a sturdy branch high up, protruding out a bit farther than all the rest. It’s the perfect spot, you decide, so you stretch your body up as high as you can reach and hang the red ribbon on it. Stepping back towards Eddie, you lean into his side to admire your handiwork. With the dark green background of the tree, the light brown wood and bright red paint stand out vibrantly.

“I love it,” you say.

Eddie wraps his arm around your neck and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“It means a lot, actually.” You sense that he isn’t don’t talking yet, so you look up at him as you wait for him to continue. “Wayne’s not a very sentimental guy, if you haven’t noticed. Bet he’s not mentioned my Aunt Laura to you since you’ve been here, right?”

“His wife you told me about? The one who died when you were little?”

“That’s her,” Eddie says with a nod. “He never talks about her. Or any of our family, really. He doesn’t buy souvenirs, he doesn’t save birthday cards, he doesn’t even have photos on the walls at all. So that,” Eddie says, nodding to the ornament, “says a lot. About you. About us.”

“He likes me?” you ask, though you were already kind of getting that feeling anyway.

Eddie turns to face you and takes both of your hands in his.

“More than he likes me, I think,” he tells you with a smirk. “But really. This is him basically saying you’re family so you’re stuck with us now. That he sees you sticking around for a long time.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, so that’s good,” you say. Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Maybe he just wants you to keep cooking for us.”

You snort and swat Eddie on the chest.

“Come on, sweet talker,” you say. “Let’s get the rest of these ornaments up.”

Eddie has a mixtape of metal covers of Christmas songs - because of course he does - so he blares that as you break out the ornaments you bought at the store the other day. Eddie says he’ll take the higher branches, even though you can clearly reach most of them, and that you can take care of the shorter ones. Halfway through decorating, you realize you don’t know the last time you decorated a tree with someone. It’s usually you all on your own, putting the few ornaments you had on your small tree. But now, you look up as Eddie hangs a golden bauble on a high branch, tongue poking out in concentration, and you can’t help the well of emotion you feel. This tiny trailer you just stepped foot in for the first time the other day feels more welcoming and more like home than your own home of the last ten years or so.

Eddie takes notice of your misty eyes and comes over to cup your face in his hands.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Nothing,” you say with a watery smile. “This is just really nice.”

He leans in and presses a slow, soft kiss to your lips.

“Having fun?” he asks.

“I am. Just emotional.”

“Well,” Eddie says, pausing to peck a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Then it’s probably as good a time as any to bring out these.”

Eddie goes over to the hall closet and reaches for something on the top shelf. Brow pinched as you watch him, you wipe away a stray tear that decided to go rogue and slide down your cheek.

“Aha,” Eddie says, pulling an old shoe box out of the closet. He closes the door with his foot and makes his way back over to you. “Wayne may not be a sentimental guy, but I am. Enough to keep these, anyway.” He lifts the lid of the shoebox and there are a little over a dozen ornaments inside, most of them looking as old as Eddie.

“Who’s are they?” you ask quietly.

“Mine now, I guess,” Eddie says. “They’ve all got some kind of meaning.” He sits down on the floor and gestures for you to join him. Once you’re sitting next to him, he pulls out the first ornament. It’s a little toy soldier, plastic, with fading colors of red, blue, and green. “This was my mom’s. I don’t have a whole lot of good memories with her, but I remember her lifting me up so I could put this one on the highest branch of the tree. And this one.” Eddie takes out an Elvis ornament that makes both of you laugh. “This was Aunt Laura’s. She was in love with Elvis. Sometimes she’d sing me Elvis songs as a lullaby.”

“Which was your favorite?” you ask.

“I always liked Jailhouse Rock,” he says.

“That’s a good one. I think I like Can’t Help Falling In Love best.”

“Pretty sure that was her and Wayne’s wedding song.” He sets that ornament down and picks up one that’s got Santa Clause riding a motorcycle. “This was my dad’s. Don’t know why I still have it, but I don’t want to throw it away either.” He sets that one aside quickly and lets out a sigh. “I think this one here is my favorite, though.” Eddie holds up an ornament that shows two polar bears in a boat, fishing. “Wayne bought me this for my first Christmas with him.”

“Beautiful,” you say, and Eddie knows you don’t just mean the polar bears. He puts the ornaments back in the box and stands up with it, offering his hand to help you up.

Eddie balances the shoebox on his arm as he scopes out places to put these new additions. His dad’s goes towards the back of the tree, while his Aunt Laura’s gets a place of honor in the front. The two polar bears go near the ornament Wayne had just given you today. For hanging up his mom’s toy soldier, Eddie sits the box down and opens his arms for you. You look at him in confusion as you step into them. He places the ormanament in your hand and leans down to wrap his arms around your legs, just under your ass. You’re hoisted up and let out a squeak, balancing yourself by putting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Go ahead,” Eddie says, smiling up at you. “Put it on the highest branch.”

His eyes are watching you with so much adoration that you can hardly take it. You reach down and cup his cheek, your thumb stroking over his cheekbone. Turning back to face the tree, you spot the highest branch and lean towards it while trying to stay steady in Eddie’s grip. The hook slips easily over the branch and the little toy soldier looks ready to defend the tree from any incoming enemies.

Eddie sets you down and admires your handy work.

“Perfect,” he says.

Taking a few steps back so you can take in the tree as a whole, you nod to yourself in approval.

“Perfect,” you agree.

Eddie has to work the next day, so after your morning shower session, he heads out and you call up Nancy. She says she’ll be by in fifteen minutes to pick you up. Part of you wanted to take Max up on her offer to hang out while Eddie is working, but you and Nancy had already scheduled your plans for the day, and Eddie was working tomorrow as well. Hopefully, Max is available then.

Nancy takes you to a cute little sandwich shop and you’re glad it’s mostly empty because once you and Nancy are seated with your food, she gets into the questions she’s been dying to ask.

“So,” she says with a smirk. “How long after Steve and I left the other day did you two do it?”

Sprite almost comes out of your nose and you have a small coughing fit, which amuses your friend greatly.

“Who says we did it at all?” you finally respond, voice still raspy from the burn in your throat.

But she’s not dumb, she can see all the signs. Eddie wanting to explain his scars to you, sleeping in the same bed every night, alluding to the fact that you had phone sex the other day, and you have a pep in your step that you didn’t have the last time she saw you. Nancy rolls her eyes and leans in towards you across the table.

“Spill. I want to know everything,” she says.

“Everything?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Yep.” It’s so casual, as if she’s asking to hear about a test you took in class.

“I’ve never talked about it before because I’d never done it before,” you say with a giggle. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“Hey, I told you about my first time,” Nancy says.

“I know! And I’ll tell you about mine, I just don’t really know what to say.”

“Was it good?” She takes a bite of her chicken salad sandwich, but her eyes never leave you, eager for an answer.

“It was really good,” you tell her.

Nancy looks around and sees there’s a mom with her two kids sitting not far from you and she frowns. It seems she’ll have to talk in code.

“Did you…get there?” she asks.

You clocked the small family the minute you sat down, so you know Nancy’s trying to be conscientious for their sake.

“I did,” you say, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

“During?” Nancy sounds astounded. Not only did most girls not reach orgasm from penetration during sex the first time, but Nancy didn’t either.

“Before. When he, um…” You can’t think of a way to phrase it without it being crass, so you just tap your finger against your lips.

Nancy’s brain processes it quickly and her mouth drops open.

“Lucky you!” she says with a smirk. “I don’t know how many times Steve and I did it until he finally got to that.”

“Eddie said he liked it,” you tell her.

“Steve does too, I think. He’s never said it, but the longer we’ve been together, the more he wants to do that.”

“We’ve got generous boyfriends,” you tell her with a teasing wink.

“So, it’s official? You’re his girlfriend?” she asks.

“Officially, I am. Which actually changes the rules of the game for me.”

“What rules?” Nancy asks. “What game?”

“Secret Santa,” you tell her. “Rules were couples can’t have their boyfriend or girlfriend since they’ll already get them a gift. I didn’t pick Eddie, but now that I’m his girlfriend I guess I have to find a pretty damn good gift for him, huh?”

“That doesn’t change the rules then,” Nancy says with a laugh. “As long as he didn’t pick you, nothing changes. Except that you’re buying Eddie something.”

“I would’ve done that anyway,” you admit with a sheepish smile. “And no, he did not pick me for secret Santa. I did help him find the present he is giving, though.”

“There are some cute stores just a few blocks over. We could go there once we’re done eating?” Nancy offers.

“Perfect.”

The grilled cheese on your plate finally gets your attention as Nancy’s questions have slowed. But they still came.

“Did it hurt? Or just, like, uncomfortable?”

“Have you been on top yet?”

“So…how big?”

That last question got a potato chip thrown her way. But truthfully, it was nice to have a friend to talk to about all of this. Nancy understood. She knows Eddie, she’s the reason you met to begin with so she’s been invested from the start.

Once you’ve finished lunch, Nancy takes you to the stores she mentioned, and the two of you stroll around, seeing if anything catches your eye. Nancy already has her gifts for her secret Santa, Steve, and her family, so she’s just here to help you now. You browse for a few hours, neither of you having anywhere else you need to be. It’s nice to have a girl’s shopping trip with Nancy, though. Sure, you hung out constantly at school, but this was different. You weren’t talking about tests or papers. You weren’t bitching about professors or roommates. You were in Nancy’s hometown - where you feel just as at home - shopping for Christmas presents with your best friend.

The stores you went to turned out to be successful, and you clutched the bag holding Eddie’s gifts in your lap the entire drive back to Forest Hills. When you hug Nancy goodbye, she says she’ll see you in two days at the party. You tell her you can’t wait and wave as she drives off.

No one’s home when you walk inside, which feels a little odd. Wayne had already left for work, and Eddie hadn’t come home from work yet. You wander around the trailer, looking at the different hats hung on the walls, counting how many different metal bands are featured on t-shirts scattered around Eddie’s room, but then decide to do something useful.

Rummaging in the kitchen leaves you with limited options, but you can work with what they’ve got. By the time Eddie is walking through the door, the trailer smells like a starving man’s dream - which Eddie is currently considering himself.

“Holy shit,” he says as he sees you working in the kitchen. “Come home from a long day at work, just wanting my girl, and here she is making me dinner? Jesus Christ, what did I do right in a past life to deserve this?”

You chuckle and shake your head at his dramatics.

“It’s nothing fancy, Eddie.”

He goes to strip himself of his oily t-shirt, a habit that he usually does after coming home from work, but he sees oil in a pan and senses there’s a chance of splatter. The last thing he needs is another type of oil to be his enemy.

“What is it?” Eddie comes up behind you and runs his hands up and down your sides.

“Chicken.”

“Why’s it look all crispy and good and shit?”

You turn in his arms so you can give him a proper kiss hello.

“I covered the chicken in butter and ritz crackers. Super easy. Super tasty.”

“My woman’s a genius,” Eddie says, going in for another kiss.

“How was your day?” you ask.

“Long,” he says with a sigh. “I’m usually fine at work, it never seems too boring. But today all I could think about was the fact that you’re here, in Hawkins, and I wasn’t with you.”

“You’re with me now,” you tell him. “And you helped fix cars that people need for their jobs and to take their families places. So you did good.”

Eddie’s smile is bashful and he presses a kiss to your forehead before walking out of the kitchen.

“M’gonna go change,” he tells you as he starts down the hall.

Eddie would never admit it - maybe to you one day, but not yet - but he always wanted this kind of domestic life. It always seemed so foreign to him, never having it, but always seeing it in friend’s families and in television and movies. When he walked in the door and saw you cooking, it hit him that this is what he wants. He wants to come home to you everyday, or have you come home to him. Whoever gets home first would make dinner, then you’d eat it together and talk about your days, just like you’re doing now. It’s pure domestic bliss and he’s mentally kicking himself because that does not go with the metal head persona he’s got going on.

When you go to bed, you’re both already taking your clothes off before you’ve even crossed the threshold to the bedroom. This is also part of what Eddie wants. To hold you in his arms every night, to make you moan and whimper and call out his name in pleasure. He wants to take care of you, in every sense of the word.

Once you’ve gone three rounds, you're both thoroughly exhausted. But as he pulls you to his chest afterward and you press your nose against his shoulder, placing soft kisses along his skin, the word smacks him in the face.

Love.

This overwhelming feeling of needing you, wanting you, but wanting you to live the wonderful life you’ve built before you even met, too. Eddie wants the world for you and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t help you get it.

“I’ve got a question,” Eddie says.

You hum against his skin in acknowledgment.

“I’m not asking for, like, now, okay? I don’t want you to freak you.”

Frown pinching your face, you look up at him and melt under the large doe eyes he’s giving you. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

“Okay…” you start. “What is it?”

“Do you want kids? You know, someday.” His fingers trail up and down your bare back in a soothing manner as he speaks.

“I do,” you tell him with a smile. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “Used to think I never wanted them. But, I don’t know, it doesn’t seem as scary anymore.”

“You can take a test run with my niece one day. She’s seven and a total firecracker,” you say.

“I’d love to meet your other favorite person,” Eddie says.

In the morning, you whine when Eddie starts to get out of bed to get ready for work. All you want is him snuggled up next to you, keeping each other warm in the cozy space.

“I’ll see you tonight, baby,” Eddie promises with a kiss on the forehead.

When you finally force yourself out of bed, you dress in warm clothes and tug on your boots. You’re pretty sure you remember which trailer Max came out of the other day, so you roll the dice and knock on the door. The redhead herself answers, and smiles when she sees you standing there.

“Hey,” she says. “What’s up?”

“Well, you said we could hang out when Eddie’s at work. And…well, he’s at work,” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“Totally,” Max says. Then she realizes how cold you must be so she steps aside so you can come in. You rub your hands together and blow some hot breath on them. It helps a little.

Growing up, being the little sister sucked. You got less time with your dad before he passed, you got abandoned when your sister left you with your then-alcoholic mom the moment she turned eighteen, and you had no choice but to raise yourself because the older people weren’t there for you. You’d always imagined you had a little sister to play with in those moments when it just became too much. You’d imagine a girl a few years younger than you who made you laugh when you needed it. You see every single quality you gave to your imaginary sister in Max.

She tells you about Lucas, and hanging out with the guys, and once she realizes you know about the Upside Down, it’s like a weight has been lifted off her chest. She can talk about it to someone who will believe her and actually listen. So, Max tells you her story. From the moment she moved to Hawkins with her asshole ex step-father and her step-brother, to when she finally woke up in the hospital, barely remembering anything that had happened to land her in there. As she’s finishing up, you realize that she needed this. She needed to tell someone about everything she went through. Someone who wasn’t there, who didn’t already know. It was probably itching her to tell her mom, and though you’re nowhere close to that, you think maybe this helped ease the burden she felt a little bit.

For lunch, Max encourages you to try a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, which you have to admit tasted pretty damn good. You’re glad to see there’s still some kid left in her, even after all the awful shit she’s been through in her life.

“So, who’d you get for secret Santa?” Max asks as you two wash the dishes together.

You almost spill, having already told Eddie and Nancy. But you catch yourself at the last moment and shrug your shoulders, hoping it seems nonchalant.

“You’ll see tomorrow, I guess,” you say.

“Come on,” Max says. She takes a plate from you and dries it off with the towel. “What if I tell you who I got?”

“Still not telling.”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to know who I’ve got?” Max asks.

“I didn’t say that.” You can’t help the smile from forming on your lips. Of course you want to know. “You’re more than welcome to tell me, but I’m not telling you.”

“Ugh, fine.” She’s silent as she dries the next plate so you assume she’s not going to tell you. But it seems like she can’t hold it in. “I got Steve.”

“Oh, really?” You chuckle as you turn the faucet off. “What’s Steve got to look forward to getting tomorrow?”

Max laughs, and it sounds slightly diabolical.

“I got him the ugliest sweater I found at the store.”

“Why?” The thought of Steve in an ugly Christmas sweater is pretty hilarious though.

“Watch,” she says as she walks back over to the couch. “When he opens it he’s going to say he loves it. I’d put money on it.”

“And why’s that?” you say, sitting down next to her.

“Because he loves me so much. I don’t think he’d ever say it out loud, but he totally does. He’s taken on the role of being my big brother, and that was even before I was in the hospital. After? He’s like a damn mother hen.”

“So, you bought the ugliest sweater on purpose? To test his love for you?” you ask.

“I don’t need to test it,” she says with a scoff. “This is purely for a good laugh.”

“I knew I liked you,” you tell her.

Max tells you that she’s not sure when her mom will be home from work, and you relate to that too much, so you invite her over to the Munson trailer for dinner. She helps you make spaghetti that’ll be ready by the time Eddie comes home, and you tell her more about your home life as you get everything together.

“So, your sister just…left you? Even though she knows what your mom is like?”

“Pretty much,” you say with a sigh. “She was only eighteen, so I get that she couldn’t support me. But I’d hoped she’d come back for me. Two years later she was pregnant though, so I knew she’d never come take me away.”

“Jesus. How old were you?” Max asks.

“Eight when she left. Ten when Chloe was born.”

“Chloe’s your niece?”

“She is.” You just can’t help the fond smile on your face whenever you talk about her. Max takes notice.

“You’re the cool aunt, huh?”

A laugh comes out and you nod your head.

“I am. Her dad’s sister is a total bitch, so I’d win anyway, but I’m still her favorite.”

The loud engine and blaring music from Eddie’s van reaches your ears and you roll your eyes in a fond way. You know the minute it starts to get warmer outside he’s going to want to have sex in the back of it. He needs to make it smell better in there, then.

“I hate that stupid thing,” Max says as Eddie’s brakes squeal.

“Honey, I’m home! Oh. Hi, Max.” He ruffles her hair as he passes her, leaving her huffing and reaching up to fix it. He gives you a soft kiss as he tosses his keys down on the counter, adjusting a package under his arm. “Smells good.”

“Thanks,” you say. “What’s that you’ve got?”

“Robin’s gift,” he says. “Just gotta wrap it. But later. Now, I’m starving.”

“It’s almost done. Go change.”

Max’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you, amusement lighting her features. You give her a questioning look as Eddie goes down the hall to the bedroom.

“You’re like a couple in a 50’s sitcom,” she says.

“Calling me a housewife?” you ask with a smirk. You drain the water out of the pasta and Max takes the sauce off the burner.

“That’s not a bad thing!” Max says.

“I agree,” you tell her. “It’s hard work.”

“Is that what you want?” Max asks. She pours the sauce over the pasta and you begin to mix it together.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Not right away. Maybe eventually, though. I’d like to have a career. But when the day comes that I have kids? I think I’d like it.”

“Aww, you wanna be a mom?” Max teases.

“What?” Eddie asks as he comes back into the kitchen.

“Your girlfriend wants babies,” Max tells him.

“I know,” he says, opening the fridge and pulling a beer out. “We literally had that discussion last night.”

“You what?” Max asks. “Are you guys crazy? You’ve barely been a couple!”

Eddie rolls his eyes and you let out a laugh.

“Not like, tomorrow, Max!” you say. “One day. Far in the future.”

“Yeah, why do you seem the most freaked out about us having kids?” Eddie asks, giving her a playful shove as he walks by you. “You’d only be the babysitter.”

“I’m the Steve here?” Max asks.

“Eh, you’re right,” Eddie says as he plops down on a barstool. “I don’t think we’d trust you enough for that.”

“Here,” Max says, dropping a plate of spaghetti in front of Eddie. “I poisoned it. Enjoy.”

There’s not much to do the next day before the party at Steve’s. So once you’ve officially worn Eddie out enough that he lets you out of bed, you take a look around the kitchen and talk Eddie into taking you to the store so you can buy ingredients for cookies. As you make them, he keeps trying to steal dough, so you’re forced to threaten him with no sex tonight if he doesn’t stop. It’s an empty threat and you both know it, but it works.

While the cookies are in the oven, Eddie breaks out the wrapping paper and you wrap your gift for Max while he wraps his for Robin. Once they’re all nice and fancy looking, Eddie asks you to help him pick out an outfit for the party. He’d look drop dead gorgeous in anything, but you can’t say no to him when he turns those doe eyes on you. He sits on his bed while you dig around in his closet. Towards the back you find a long sleeved green t-shirt and you pull it out.

“This!”

Eddie catches the shirt when you toss it at him and he looks it over.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Green is a Christmas color, plus it looks really good with your eyes,” you tell him.

Eddie smirks and whips off the Metallica tee he’s wearing, eyes never leaving yours. You don’t back down from the stare, raising an eyebrow at him as he sits there shirtless.

“You’re going to get cold,” you tell him. He shakes his head but you know he’s full of shit because his nipples are so pebbled. After holding out for a minute, he groans and slips the green shirt on over his head.

“Black jeans and your leather jacket will work with it.” You walk over to perch yourself on Eddie’s leg. “I’d ask you to pick my outfit but I’d be a little scared.”

“Oh no, I’ll do it.” Eddie smirks and tosses you back on his bed so he can walk over to your suitcase. He sits down in front of it and thoughtfully goes through your articles of clothing.

“See anything you like?” you ask.

“Besides your bras and panties?” he asks, and you don’t have to see his face to know he’s smirking.

“I think I’d be cold if that’s all I wore.”

“You’ll just have to wear them, and only them, when we get back to my nice warm room,” Eddie says.

“Wow, you want me wearing that much clothing?”

“Good point.” Eddie tosses a piece of clothing over his head and you have to dart to the left to catch it.

“This is a cute cardigan,” you say, holding the purple material in your lap. “Kind of need something under it.”

“Is there a dress in here?” Eddie asks.

“A few,” you say. “Uh, black one, blue one, and green one that I’m wearing tomorrow.”

“Black works with purple, right?” Eddie asks and you hum in confirmation. “Aha!” Eddie stands up, brandishing the dress above his head.

He stands there and watches you change, of course, a dopey smile on his face the whole time. While you add a touch of makeup, Eddie changes into his black jeans and puts the cookies in a bowl to take with you. If one or two don’t make it in the bowl, he’s sure no one will notice.

Eddie helps you into your coat, then you’re out and on your way to Steve’s.

When you get there, the house is already loud and crowded, not that you expected anything different. Eddie drops your gifts on the pile and you join the rest of the gang in the living room.

“Hey!” Robin calls when she sees you. She makes her way over to you, almost tripping on her feet as she does. “Ooh, you made cookies!”

“Cookies?” Mike’s head snaps up and he looks in your direction. You shake the bowl at him like you’d shake treats at a dog, and he’s by your side in the blink of an eye. “How are you?” he asks, but doesn’t stick around to hear the answer before he’s walking away with the baked goods.

Nancy walks out of the kitchen, bottle of wine in her hand and a smile lights her face when she sees you.

“Hey! Want some wine?” she asks.

“Always,” you say. She tugs you over to a couch with her and pours both of you a glass. You sit shoulder to shoulder, leaning back on the couch as you enjoy your glasses of merlot, and you breathe a contented sigh. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed being around this gang.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Nancy says, as if she was reading your mind.

“Me too,” you say. “Makes me not want to go back to Boston. Again.”

“You may be the only person who prefers Hawkins to Boston,” she says.

“Boston has you,” you say. “Hawkins has you and Eddie.”

Nancy chuckles and nods her head.

“Fair enough.”

Max walks over and sits down on the other side of you. She raises an eyebrow as she looks over the rim of your glass.

“Can I have some?” she asks.

“No,” you and Nancy say at the same time.

“You guys aren’t 21!” Max argues.

“Closer than you,” you tell her.

The redhead huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

At dinner, you sit between Eddie and Will, who you notice are more alike than you thought. They talk about D&D, art, books, over you during the meal, with you piping in here and there. Will starts to ask you about Boston and school, and he tells you he’s probably going to major in art, but he might minor in psychology. You tell him about your classes, which ones you like, which ones you find boring.

Dustin sits on the other side of Eddie and keeps trying to say kind things to him to make up for hitting the back of his van a few days ago. Eddie insists on acting like he’s still pissed at the boy, but the truth is that Eddie is secretly finding it all hilarious.

Looking over, you see Nancy sitting between Steve and Lucas, and the two guys are arguing about a basketball game. She widens her eyes when she meets your gaze, mouthing the words “help me” to you. You chuckle and give her a helpless shrug.

Eddie takes your hand under the table and gives it a squeeze. Lacing your fingers with his, you give a squeeze in return. Across the table from Eddie, El is giving the two of you a smile. As you return the gesture, you realize this is the first time you’re seeing her since finding out she basically has super powers. Then you get in your head and tell yourself not to stare, but of course once that’s in your head, it’s all you can think about. Like Eddie can sense where your mind has gone, he leans in towards you and whispers in your ear.

“Doing okay, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you say. “You full yet?”

“Never,” he says with a smirk.

“Really? Even after sneaking those cookies?”

“You saw me?”

“No, but I know how many I made,” you say with a laugh. “It was not the number that was in the bowl when we got here.”

Once everyone has finished eating, Jonathan offers to help Steve clear the table while the kids start clamoring to open presents. Nancy, stepping in as the deputy mom of the group, tells them that we can all get to presents quicker if they help clean up. It doesn’t work, but it was a valiant try.

They finally get their way, though, and Mike and Eddie carry in all of the gifts, piling them up on the Harrington’s coffee table.

“Who goes first?” El asks.

“I think there should be a fight to the death to decide,” Robin says.

“What’s the prize?” Dustin asks. “Dying?”

“As someone who almost died this year, maybe it should be me,” Max says.

“I’m sorry, who came closer?” Eddie asks her, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh my God,” Steve says, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. “El, you go first.”

With a smile on her face, El leans forward to find the present with her name on it. She picks it from the pile and sets the box on her lap. Everyone’s quiet as she rips into the paper, waiting to see what she’s got.

“Remember,” Dustin says. “You’ve got to guess who gave it to you.”

El nods as she pulls the top off the box. She pulls out a pair of overalls that have different colorful patches all over them. All eyes turn to Robin, who has a smirk on her face because she’s wearing the exact same outfit.

“Robin?” El asks with a laugh.

“I thought you might like to have matching outfits!”

“It’s great,” El says, looking back down at the outfit. She doesn’t look like she’s patronizing either, you notice, it seems to mean a lot that El received a matching outfit with her friend. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome,” Robin says. “Do I pick mine now?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says.

Robin wiggles her fingers as she leans forward to inspect the pile of presents.

“Aha!” she snatches hers up and shakes the box next to her ear. You try not to laugh, Eddie rolling his eyes next to you.

She’s not careful about ripping through the paper, and you can basically hear Eddie’s jaw clenching as he remembers how long it took him to wrap it. Robin lifts the lid of the shoebox and pulls out one of the painted converse.

“Whoa,” Robin says. She turns the shoe in front of her face. The Hellfire logo looks amazing painted on the outside of the shoe, while the instep is decorated with different types of dice that are used in D&D. “This is sick.” She sets the shoe back in the box and pulls out the other one, painted with “Corroded Coffin” on the outside, musical notes on the instep. “These are so cool. But I wonder who gave them to me…”

She whips her head to the side and gives Eddie a smirk.

“They’re hand painted,” Eddie tells her.

“Shit, really?” She takes another look at the shoes, jaw dropping in awe. “I’m afraid to wear these now.”

“I was told they’re fine even out in the rain. Snow? I’m not so sure,” Eddie says.

“Thank you!” Robin drops the shoe back in the box and lunges over Max’s lap to hug Eddie. He’s startled at first, but pats her back when he recovers.

“You’re turn,” Dustin tells Eddie. Eddie’s gift is in a flat, square box and you instantly have an idea of what could be inside. You’re proven right when he opens it to find four new vinyl records.

“Hey!” he calls out happily. “Metallica, Ozzy, all the good shit. This is the best.” He narrows his eyes as he looks around the circle of friends, trying to find out who gave them to him. His tongue pokes out of his lips as he thinks, and that’s quickly become one of your favorite habits of his. Eddie and his damn tongue.

“Take a guess,” Mike says and Eddie waves him off.

“I’m thinking,” he says. “Uh, Lucas?”

“Nope,” Lucas says, shaking his head.

“Shit,” Eddie says, resting the albums in his lap. “I’m the first one to get it wrong.”

“To be fair,” Robin says, “yours is the hardest one so far.”

“Yeah, only you would give Corroded Coffin and Hellfire shoes,” Max says. “And Robin’s literally wearing a replica of her gift.”

“So who was it?” Eddie asks.

Nancy raises her hand, a shy smile on her lips.

“Wheeler! Thank you. Really, I love them,” Eddie tells her.

“You’re welcome,” Nancy says.

“Who goes now since Eddie guessed wrong?” Will asks.

“Since this isn’t even officially a game, I don’t think,” Steve says with a shrug. “Nancy can pick.”

“Mike looks impatient,” Nancy muses. “So not him. Um, Lucas. You can go.”

Lucas grins as he digs his present out of the pile. The box is kind of large, but when he opens it to see an official Boston Celtics basketball, he stands up so quickly the box gets knocked to the floor.

“Holy shit!” he yells. “This is the coolest thing ever!”

“Whoa,” Steve says, getting up to look at the ball as well.

“It’s a ball,” Eddie whispers in your ear and you pinch his thigh, making him snort.

“There’s two people here who spend their time in Boston. And one was already outed as giving a gift, so…” His gaze falls on you but you shrug your shoulders.

“Sorry, wasn’t me.”

“Who?”

El giggles and waves her hand at him.

“I had Nancy get it for me,” she says. Lucas wraps her up in a hug that almost suffocates the small girl.

“Another wrong guess. El can pick,” Nancy says.

El picks Jonathan, whose gift is a set of film and developing solution. He guesses it’s from Max, which is wrong. Lucas takes credit for the gift, then picks Will to go next. His present, to no one’s real surprise, is art supplies. He would’ve guessed Eddie since they have that hobby in common, but Eddie had already been called. Will’s not sure but guesses Max, which was incorrect. Steve stands up and takes a bow, glad that he wasn’t guessed correctly for the present. Max picks Nancy to go next, and she opens her small box to see a beautiful silver tennis bracelet. It’s gorgeous and dainty, and just exactly what Nancy would wear. Nancy guesses Will and she’s right. There’s a cheer from the group, because she’s the first one to guess correctly in a while. Will chooses Mike to go next, whose gift is a new outfit, consisting of a t-shirt, button up shirt, and pants. He looks stumped on who gave it to him before he notices the clothing label and something seems to click in his mind.

“Jonathan! These are the clothes Argyle was saying he’d get me when we were in California,” Mike says and Jonathan shrugs sheepishly.

“You didn’t get them then, so you get them now.”

Since Jonathan already opened his, he declares it your turn to open your gift. You’re not expecting a particularly thought out gift, just because no one here knew you particularly well, and you knew neither Nancy nor Eddie had pulled your name. But when you spy your present inside the box you know exactly who gave it to you. With a laugh, you pull a stuffed Ewok out of the box, and upon closer inspection, you notice he’s wearing a pick necklace just like your boyfriend’s. You hug the toy to your chest and smile at the only person in the room you remember talking about Ewoks with.

“Dustin!”

The boy grins and shrugs his shoulders.

“What can I say? I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “My little metal Ewok.”

“I thought that was me,” Eddie says with a smirk.

“You’re the metal teddy bear,” you remind him. “Get it right.”

“Dustin’s turn,” Robin says.

Dustin unwraps a package stuffed with new books. His face lights up as he goes through them, rambling off title after title and author after author as he looks them over. He correctly guesses that Mike gave them to him, and Mike chooses Max to be the next one to open her present. Now that most of the gifts have been revealed, Max only has two options to guess from. It’s either you or herself, so that makes it an easy choice.

“Hmm, I wonder who,” Max says, sending you a smirk as she tears into the wrapping paper. When she pulls out her new skateboard her jaw drops open. She runs her hand along it before flipping it over and seeing the artwork on the deck.

“No way.” There’s a painted picture of Wonder Woman on the bottom and Max’s eyes are wide in astonishment. It makes you feel proud that you found that for her. You’d already liked Max from the first time you met her, but you’d come to know her even more on this trip and become her friend.

“This is…wow,” Max says. She’s shaking her head, like she can’t believe what she’s holding. “Thank you so much.” She turns to you and gives you a smile that’s pure joy. For a moment it reminds you of Chloe’s smile when she gets very excited.

“You’re welcome,” you tell her. “I saw it and had to get it. Eddie did give me some clues about what you like, though.”

“This damn snow needs to melt so I can ride it,” Max says, still staring at the board.

There’s only one gift left and it’s for Steve. But he knows Max is the only one who hasn’t claimed a gift given yet, so this is obviously from her. It’s good it worked out this way though, because it further tests Max’s theory that Steve’s going to say he likes the sweater just because Max gave it to him. The redhead’s grin would look excited to anyone else, but you could see it for the maniacal smile it was.

Steve opens the box and stares down at the sweater inside. His mouth is hanging open and his eyebrows raise up.

“Oh,” he says. “Wow.”

“What is it?” Mike asks.

Steve picks up the sweater and holds it up against his chest. Max wasn’t lying. It’s one of the ugliest things you’ve ever seen. It’s blue and white, dotted in snowflakes and candy canes, and right in the middle of the chest there’s a gray cat wearing a Santa hat. Steve nods his head as he looks down at it.

“It’s…great,” he says, and you have to turn your head away to keep from laughing. Max is still grinning at him when Steve meets her eyes. “Thank you, Max. I love it.”

“I’m so glad,” Max says with fake cheeriness. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, though his voice sounds strained.

Max nods enthusiastically and you have no idea how she's managing not to laugh. You volunteer to help with the clean up, and as you pass Max she smirks and whispers, “Told you.”

Steve heads into the kitchen to toss some of the wrapping paper away, but Eddie stops you as you go to follow behind him.

“Sit, princess,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got it.” He takes the garbage from you and heads towards the kitchen.

Giving him a grateful smile, you sit down next to Max on the couch and look at her new skateboard with her. Eddie tosses the garbage out in the big bag Steve got out, but he stops his friend from going back out into the living room.

“Dude, I need to talk to you,” Eddie says.

Steve shrugs and puts his hands on his hips.

“What’s up?”

Eddie chews over his bottom lip and slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He wasn’t sure how to start this conversation without sounding like a complete idiot.

“Spit it out, man,” Steve says.

“It’s just…fuck, it’s going to sound crazy,” Eddie says.

“A lot of the things you say do.”

Eddie throws a glare his way before he begins to pace back and forth in front of the sink.

“I know I’ve only known her a month,” Eddie says. “And I don’t know, I don’t have any sort of reference for this. But, like…shit.”

Steve tilts his head to the side, waiting for Eddie to get to the point.

“I think I love her,” Eddie says, halting his motions and coming to stand in front of Steve. “Is that crazy?”

Steve shrugs his shoulders and leans against the counter.

“I wouldn’t say it’s crazy. A little fast, yeah? But since when do you do things like everyone else anyway?”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and Steve lets out a sigh.

“Look,” Steve says. “No one else can tell you when you’re in love or not. It’s just something you know.”

“I do,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “I do know. God, I love her so much.”

“Then you love her,” Steve says. “What’s the problem?”

“I just feel like if this was anyone else I would be saying that they’re crazy. Saying it’s not possible to fall in love so fast. Especially with someone they’ve only communicated with by phone the majority of the time they’ve known them.”

“But it’s not someone else, it’s you. And who gives a shit what anyone else thinks? You of all people have never cared about that,” Steve says.

“I care what she thinks,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the living room. “I don’t want to scare her.”

“Then don’t tell her yet,” Steve says.

“I’ve already almost let it slip. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Dude, you’re too much in your own head about all of this. You guys are great together. Like, it sounds straight out of a fairytale type of great. Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s obviously working.”

Eddie nods and comes to lean on the counter next to Steve.

“How quick until you loved Nancy?” Eddie asks.

Steve scratches at his neck, eyes looking up as he searches his memories.

“Maybe between two and three months,” he says. “But I never stopped. Does that make me crazy? That even though she and I were broken up for years, she had a serious boyfriend, and I went on countless dates, I still loved her the whole time? Everyone’s love story is different, Munson. None of them are supposed to be the same or they wouldn’t be special and yours.”

Eddie lets out a deep breath and nods his head.

“Thanks, Harrington.”

“You’re not going to pop the question, are you?” Steve asks.

“No!” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb. We have talked about kids, though. Not like, for now. But talked about if we both want kids in the future.”

“That’s good,” Steve says. “Nance and I have those conversations too. Even if something is years off, it’s still good to know where you both stand.”

“When’d you become the guy to go to for dating advice?” Eddie asks with a smirk.

“Some of it I’ve just absorbed from Robin talking so much,” Steve says. “But Nance and I are really good now. I was bound to learn some things at some point.”

Dustin walks into the kitchen and stops short when he sees the two guys standing there.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

Eddie walks over and slings his arm over Dustin’s shoulders.

“You’re forgiven,” Eddie says. “You’ve made it up to me.”

“Really?” Dustin asks excitedly.

“Made up for what?” Steve asks.

“When he hit my van,” Eddie says.

“With a car?” Steve’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head.

“Drivers Ed class,” Dustin mumbles.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says, running a hand over his face. “You’re never driving my car. Not even when you’re thirty.”

“What did I do to make it up to you?” Dustin asks Eddie, ignoring Steve’s remark.

“The Ewok with the pick necklace. She loves it. Like, she really fucking loves it. And you put that smile on her face, so we’re all good.”

“Sweet,” Dustin says.

“He’s forgiven for hitting your car because he got a teddy bear?” Steve asks.

“It’s not a teddy bear,” Eddie and Dustin say at the same time.

Christmas mornings had become less magical since you’d grown up. That thrill of excitement that shoots through you when you see what Santa’s put beneath the tree for you. As you got older, you didn’t care about getting up early to open any gifts. You’d rather get the extra sleep. But this year, waking up in Eddie’s arms, there’s a whole new type of magic surrounding you. He’s still asleep when you open your eyes, and you smile at the sight of him, lips slightly parted, chest steadily rising up and down, his eyelashes fluttering. Your mind cannot comprehend that at one point the whole town hated this sweet boy.

You can tell Eddie’s waking by the way he squirms a little, muscles stretching as life is breathed back into them. He lets out a sigh as he lifts one arm above his head to loosen it up. His eyes blink open and a sleepy smile comes to his lips when he sees you’re already up.

“Merry Christmas,” you say.

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”

“How’d you sleep?” he asks, voice still a little hoarse.

“Good. I was exhausted last night,” you say.

“From the party or our after party?” Eddie asks with a smirk.

“Both!”

Eddie chuckles and there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Everyone decent?” Wayne calls.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mumbles. He rubs one of his eyes with the palm of his hand and peeks under the covers to make sure he’s still got his boxers on. You, of course, had slipped into one of Eddie’s shirts, so you were presentable from the waist up.

“Come in.”

“Merry Christmas,” Wayne says with a smile, eyes crinkled in the corners. “I ran out and got us some doughnuts for breakfast.”

That’s got Eddie sliding out from under the blankets and rummaging around for pants to put on.

“We’ll be right there,” you say. You’ve got to stay put in the bed since you only have your panties on your bottom.

Wayne nods and closes the door behind him.

Both of you and Eddie dressed in warm and comfortable clothes you’d found scattered around the room. The box of donuts is on the coffee table, so Eddie sits on the couch and pulls you down beside him.

“I suppose you want Boston cream,” Eddie says with a smirk.

“You’re so cheesy,” you say, laughing.

He hands you the donut anyway, and practically inhales a glazed donut whole. While you’re still working on your first one, he eats a jelly filled one in two bites.

“Alright,” Eddie says when you’re done. He rubs his hands together in anticipation. “Presents.” He slips off the couch and sits in front of the tree. You come down to join him and he taps his hand against your knee as he looks over the handful of packages laying in wait.

“Wayne first.” Eddie picks up a present with his uncle’s name on it and tosses it over his head to the man. “That’s from the lovely lady sitting on my right.”

Inside there’s a green and gray flannel buried in a mountain of tissue paper, and Wayne smiles as he appraises it.

“Thanks, doll,” he says. “Don’t think I’ve got a green one.”

“Thought it might make you blend in a bit more when you’re fishing,” you say.

“You think the fish can see him up on land?” Eddie asks but Wayne throws a ball of tissue paper at his head before you can respond.

“I’ll save the best for last,” Eddie says. “So I’ll open next.” He picks up Wayne’s gift to him, a small box, and he shakes it near his ear. Since no sound provides him with any clues, he rips the paper off and opens the box. “Oh, thank God! Or well - Wayne. Thank you!” Eddie pulls out new guitar strings and a small baggie stuffed to the brim with picks. “Gonna be playing with my sweetheart later.”

Eddie’s looking down at the gift in his lap as he says it, but you can still see the smirk. You feel the tips of your ears turn red and reach forward to grab a present labeled to you from Wayne.

It’s a larger, flat box that you lay in your lap. Eddie sets the accessories for his guitar down to watch as you strip the box of its paper. Lifting the lid, you gasp when you see the neatly folded kitchen apron. It’s a turquoise material, soft under your fingertips as you touch it. But the best part is your name stitched on the apron in big, purple letters. You lift it from the box and hold the material tight to your chest.

“I love it! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Wayne chuckles and nods his head.

“Knew after you’ve been cooking for us so well that I should repay the favor. And I figured since you like to be in the kitchen it’ll come in handy.”

“It’s perfect,” you say. “I’m constantly getting flour all over myself, so this will save me from doing a lot of extra laundry.”

Eddie leans forward and scoops up a small box from under the tree.

“Here,” he says, tossing it to Wayne. Once Wayne’s ripped the paper off, he starts laughing, dropping his head forward as his shoulders shake. Eddie’s smirking and you’re looking back and forth between them in confusion.

Wayne holds up the small box and you see it’s a box of condoms.

“Eddie!” But you’re laughing too, not able to actually scold him.

“Ribbed, for your lady friend’s pleasure,” Eddie says and you fall forward in laughter, your head resting on Eddie’s knee.

“You think you’re so funny, boy,” Wayne says, laughter still in his voice as well.

“Well, here.” Wayne tosses a small box to Eddie. When he catches it you see it’s a different box of condoms, this one with a nice red bow taped to it. “We don’t want no little Munsons around here anytime soon.”

Both you and Eddie blush - but definitely more you - despite the fact that you’re both laughing.

There are two more boxes under the tree and one of them is for you.

“I really hope those aren’t condoms,” you say.

“You’ll have to wait and see!” Eddie says as he scoops up his gift from you. It’s a small box, and yet again, he shakes it. There’s a light rattling coming from inside and his brow pinches together.

“Will you stop shaking it?” you ask with a laugh.

“That’s no fun,” Eddie says, but he stops. He rips open the paper and almost rips the small box as he tries to open it. His face splits into a grin when he looks inside. There’s a silver ring with a pair of skeletons hands making a heart. He picks it up out of the box and inspects it in the light. “I love it.”

As you watch his eyes trail over the details, you see him pause when he sees there’s an inscription inside.

“The date we met,” Eddie says. November 28, 1986 is engraved on the inside of the silver ring, and Eddie’s sure he’s never come closer to crying when he’s gotten a gift. “Best day of my life.”

You’re pretty sure he’s only saying that because Wayne is in the room. He’d definitely say it was the other day when you had sex for the first time if it was just the two of you alone.

“Mine too,” you tell him.

He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Thank you. I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” you say.

“Your turn.” Eddie hands you a small box, a little bigger than the one his ring was in.

“Should I shake it?” you ask and he pinches your knee playfully. As impressed as you are with the care Eddie took when wrapping it, you still just tear through the paper. There’s a velvet box inside and you’re already afraid Eddie spent too much on you. Lifting the lid, a silver charm bracelet sits inside. It’s shiny and delicate, and there are three charms attached. You carefully pick it up and bring it closer to your face. The first charm is a music note, which makes you smile. It’s very Eddie. The second charm is a small phone and you blush, knowing what it represents. Eddie chuckles softly at your expression, too lowly for Wayne to hear. The last charm is a beautiful silver “E” with a little jewel dotted in the top corner. This one is automatically your favorite. Whenever you’re sitting in a boring class or just missing your boyfriend, you can look at your wrist and see the pretty reminder of him.

“Eddie, this is so beautiful,” you say. Eddie’s noticed you haven’t taken your eyes off of it yet and it fills him with pride. He’s glad he got something you truly like.

“I figured I could just add a charm every year or something. Maybe like a tradition?”

Hearing him already talk about your next Christmas and starting a tradition with you fills your eyes with tears. You refuse to let them spill over as you launch yourself at Eddie, wrapping your arms around his neck. Traditions weren’t something you had in your life. The thought of having one with Eddie makes your stomach all tingly in the best possible way.

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. And you mean it.

He hugs you back tightly and you’re sure he can sense how much you need the embrace in that moment.

“Can I put it on you?” Eddie asks.

You nod as you pull back from him, unable to trust your own voice. He takes the bracelet from you and you hold your wrist out. Once he successfully opens the small clasp, he hooks the gift around your wrist. You turn your wrist to inspect it from all angles, heart thrumming in your chest. The silver of his new ring catches your eye and you pick it up.

“Can I put this on you then?” you ask.

“You proposing?” he asks with a smirk, and another wad of tissue paper hits his head. Eddie ignores his uncle though and slips the skull ring he has on his left ring finger and puts it on the middle finger of his right hand.

“Why don’t we wait until we’ve known each other for at least a month before we talk about marriage?” you say, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Sounds fair,” Eddie says with a shrug.

He holds his hand out and you slip the silver skeleton hands down his finger.

“I accept,” Eddie gushes playfully, holding his ringed finger up. You roll your eyes but lean forward to hug him anyway. His harms instantly encircle you and he hugs you close to him.

“Thank you, beautiful,” he mumbles against your head.

“And thank you, handsome.” You look up at him and he presses a quick but sweet kiss to your lips.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Wayne says from behind you. Red creeps on your cheeks as you pull away from Eddie and move to stand up. Eddie follows your lead and stands, bending down to pick up all the discarded wrapping paper.

“Thank you, Wayne,” you say, going over to hug him. “I’m going to use the apron when I make dinner.”

“I’m glad you like it, darlin’,” he says, patting your back.

“And thanks for these,” Eddie says, swiping up the box of condoms. “I’ll make sure and put them to good use.”

“Eddie!” You cover your face and Eddie chuckles, coming over and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Aw, baby,” he coos. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m traumatized, is what I am,” you say.

The dinner you make is simple, but you want to honor the tradition Wayne and Eddie have of having fish for Christmas. The salmon, potatoes, biscuits, and asparagus are served earlier than you’d typically eat dinner, but unfortunately Wayne had to work even though it was Christmas. He said he didn’t mind because he got to spend the morning and most of the day with you two. You manage to keep your apron clean except for one spot of potato on your chest, which Eddie offers to lick off.

After Wayne leaves for work, you and Eddie curl up on the couch, a blanket cocooning the two of you, and watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. When it’s over, you start to feel butterflies in your stomach as you think about the other present you bought for Eddie.

He stands up from the couch and turns the television off. The room is cloaked in darkness as he spins around and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Ready for bed?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, standing up. You follow him into his room and snatch up the shopping back that you’d hidden in your suitcase. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie acknowledges you with a hum as you slip down the hall and into the bathroom. When you’d gone shopping the other day with Nancy, you’d bought Eddie’s ring. As you passed a lingerie store later, Nancy joked that you should buy something as a second present for him. You’d surprised her by walking into the store, leaving her outside. Her surprised face as she followed in behind you amused you more than you’d let her know.

In the mirror over the sink in the Munson bathroom, you turn to try and see yourself from all angles. It’s the first time you’ve ever worn anything like this and you feel self conscious. The black lace bustier held your boobs up and together, which even you had to admit, looked damn good. The matching panties and garters holding up the sheer black stockings made you feel sexy. It’s a weird mixture feeling self conscious and sexy at the same time. But you have no doubt Eddie will make you feel beautiful, like he always does.

You step out of the bathroom and your heart races as you make your way back to Eddie’s room. The mattress creaks, which lets you know he’s already on the bed. With a deep breath, you summon the courage and step into his doorway. He’s leaning over to his nightstand, putting the new condom box in next to the current one you’ve been going through.

“Ready to unwrap another present?” you ask. Eddie turns to answer but does a double take when he sees you, his eyes growing wide as saucers. The way he’s staring at you makes heat pool between your legs. It feels like his eyes are burning you as he rakes them up and down your body.

“Holy shit.”

You giggle as you step inside the room, making your way over to the bed. Eddie hurries off the bed, needing to touch you or he’ll combust. His hands find the strip of bare skin between the bustier and the panties, and he settles them there.

“Baby, you look so fucking sexy,” he says. “I mean, you always do, but this outfit? Fuck. You’re going to kill me.”

“Mm,” you hum, resting your hands on his chest. “No dying until I’ve had my fun with you.” You give him a gentle push and he falls back on the bed. When you sink to your knees in front of him he feels like he must be dreaming. You haven't even reached for his belt yet and he already knew he wouldn’t last long. You rub your hand over the growing bulge in his jeans and Eddie throws his head back. The way he reacts to your touch makes you smirk. The handcuff belt that used to give you trouble getting off, now you’re an expert at it as you work your hands at the waistband of his pants. Originally, you were just going to reach into his boxers and pull his cock out, but you decide you want him fully naked. He gets the hint when you start to pull his jeans and boxers down his legs and he lifts his hips to help you. Next you go for his shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it behind you. You’ll never get over how beautiful he is. His dark hair and dark eyes framing his face, dotted with freckles and highlighted by his pink lips, already parted as his breathing increases. The pale skin of his torso, covered in both tattoos and scars, and his pretty cock, already hard and leaking precum, waiting for your attention. You run your hands up his thighs and dig your fingers in up close to his hips.

“Never done this before,” you tell him, even though he already knows. “Gonna have to tell me what you like.”

“Shit, babe,” he says, voice straining. “Pretty sure your mouth won’t be on me for a minute before I blow my load.”

“I’m doing the blowing,” you say with a pout. Eddie chuckles and reaches out to caress your face.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says.

“Eddie?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I want you to cum in my mouth.”

His dick twitches and he grabs a fistful of the blankets on his bed. You can’t help but smile in satisfaction at how he reacts to your words.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” you hum as you wrap your hand around the base of him. He nods his head and you start to stroke him a few times. You lean in and give the head a few kitten licks, making a whine escape his throat. When you run your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock, from base to tip, he shudders and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Jesus Christ,” he pants out.

You can’t help the smile on your face, loving seeing him in so much pleasure. And the fact that you’re the one causing it is making you even wetter. You lower your mouth onto him and his hand instantly grips your hair. It’s not too tight, just enough so he grounds himself. And even though his dick is literally in your mouth, he still feels the need to touch some part of you with his hands.

Trying to remember everything you’ve heard or pieces of advice friends gave about giving head, you take more of Eddie into your mouth, not sure when or if a gag reflex will kick in. The noises he’s making above you encourage you to take him deeper, trying to relax your jaw as you go. You pull back until you’re just sucking on the tip, which has a guttural moan escaping him.

“M’close,” he says.

Your drool is leaking down his cock and you spread it with your hand as you start to pump down at the base. Eddie’s thigh muscles tense on either side of your head and you hollow out your cheeks.

“Fuck! I’m cumming.” One more bob of your head and Eddie is filling your mouth with his sticky release. You take as much of it as you can, some dribbling out the corners of your mouth. Swallowing all that he gives you, you pull back and lick over your lips, trying to get every last drop.

Eddie’s breathing hard as he looks down at you. The way you’re looking up at him through your eyelashes as you clean his cum off your face might be the prettiest sight he’s ever seen.

“How was that?” you ask.

He has no words to respond with, so instead he reaches down and pulls you up from the floor. He lays back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. You place your hand on his chest and his heart is beating so fast that you’re afraid it’s going to jump out of his skin. Hand coming up to tangle in your hair, Eddie brings you down for a messy kiss full of tongue and teeth. His hands slide down to your ass and squeeze.

“I’m not done with you and these yet,” he says, snapping the elastic of the panties against your skin.

“It’s a good thing we’ve got all night then.”

The week after Christmas is full of laughter, friends, sex, snow, and feeling more at home than you should in a place that’s never been your home. The few days Eddie has to work you either spend with Nancy or Max, once even going with Nancy to spend time at Family Video when Steve and Robin were working. The days Eddie had off all started and ended the same - naked - but each day you have a new adventure. One of the most interesting included going on a double date with Wayne and Abigail to a nice restaurant. Both Munson boys dressed in nice shirts and slacks was a rare sight and you were indeed enjoying it. Even if you did have to help both of them pick out what to wear. You’re so focused on what a good time you’re having in Hawkins, and dreading going back to school, you forget all about New Year’s Eve until Eddie brings it up.

“So,” he says once he’s finished giving you your second orgasm of the night. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.

“How would you like to go to a concert?”

“A concert?” you ask and Eddie nods. “Who’s playing?”

“Corroded Coffin.”

You sit up straight, jaw dropping open as you look at him.

“You are? I’m going to get to see your band?”

“Talked to them all today,” Eddie says. He smiles and tugs you back down so you’re laying against his chest. “Gareth got us a gig on New Year’s Eve at the place we used to play.”

“I forgot all about New Years,” you say.

“Well, this is the first year I’ll have a New Year’s kiss, so I wasn’t about to forget.”

Your thumb strokes over his skin as you press a few kisses to his bare chest.

“I’m excited!”

“Nancy, Steve, and Robin are coming too,” he tells you.

“Are they going to be embarrassed to be seen with a girl who is clearly trying to get into the lead singer’s pants?”

“Well,” Eddie says, running his fingers up and down your arm. “I hate to disappoint you, but I hear he has a girlfriend.”

“That’s a shame,” you say.

“Heard she’s gorgeous, too. Like, the most beautiful girl ever.”

“Well, he’s so sexy, he definitely deserves a girl like that.”

Eddie chuckles and leans down to press his lips against yours.

Even though it’s so cold out, you insist on wearing a Corroded Coffin t-shirt to The Hideout. You layer a cardigan over it and your coat on top as you help Eddie load his guitar and amp into the van. He stares at your ass as he helps you into the van, eyes taking in your tights and skirt.

“Being a perv?” you ask once you’re in your seat.

“For you? Always.” He presses a kiss to the back of your hand before heading around to the driver’s side.

The Hideout is pleasantly full when you arrive, and Eddie takes you backstage to introduce you to the other guys.

“This is Gareth, Jeff, and Andy,” Eddie introduces, pointing to each man in turn.

“Holy shit, she is real,” Gareth says.

Eddie rolls his eyes and rests his arm over your shoulders.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you tell them. “I’m excited to hear you perform.”

“I heard it was your idea,” Jeff says, but you shake your head.

“All I did was ask if I could hear Eddie’s band play. He took it from there.”

“You’re sticking around after the set, right?” Andy asks.

“Of course,” you say.

“Oh good, we have a hundred stories to tell you about Eddie,” Gareth says.

“Alright,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I’m going to walk you to your seat now.”

You giggle as Eddie leads you away from the guys, but you can hear one of them whispering loudly to the others as you leave.

“Damn, Eddie got a hot girlfriend.”

Your friends are already there and at a table near the stage when Eddie walks you back out to the front. Robin waves you over and you give Eddie a kiss and tell him to break a leg before you go over to them.

“Looks like we’ve got a groupie here,” Robin says, gesturing to your shirt.

“I think she’s hoping to score one of the band members,” Nancy adds with a smirk.

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug as you take your seat.

The lights dim and you squirm in your seat, excited nerves taking over your body. Steve smiles to himself as he watches you, knowing you’re just as deep in it for Eddie as he is for you.

When Eddie walks out on stage with his guitar, you squeeze your thighs together in your seat. He looks insanely sexy all the time, but seeing him strut out like a rockstar has you even more feral for him. With a smirk, he throws a wink your way as he adjusts the microphone.

“Well, hello, Hideout,” Eddie says and there are a few scattered cheers across the bar. “It’s been a minute since we’ve played together, but we’re back for a special reunion this New Year’s Eve.”

Robin subtly nudges Nancy in her ribs and nods her head towards you, where you’re looking at Eddie with almost literal heart eyes. When he begins to strum his guitar, Nancy thinks you just might pass out. By the second song you’re standing, dancing around to the band’s songs. The way you’re moving and swaying your hips has Eddie glad his guitar is held in front of his crotch.

It’s not long before your friends join you in your dancing, and eventually all people at the tables closest to the stage are on their feet. Sweat pours down Eddie’s face and you’re surprised when you have the urge to lick it off. Wouldn’t be the first time you’d licked something off of him.

During the last song, Eddie kneels down on one knee in front of you and tilts your chin up to press a possessive kiss to your lips. Your knees go weak and your tummy flip flops. When he pulls back he gives you another wink before finishing the song. It wouldn’t surprise you if your voice was gone tomorrow after shouting and screaming so loud for the band. And then maybe some more when you guys got home.

It’s 11:30 pm when the guys come out from backstage and join you at the table with the others. The bar has some music playing over the speakers now that isn’t nearly as good as Corroded Coffin’s music was, but no one’s paying any attention to it anyway. Your table is full and everyone’s shouting over one another and laughing so hard they’re practically crying. Jeff tells you about the time Eddie got detention for smoking weed in the gym, but Gareth tells you that was nothing compared to the time he got caught trying to break into a teacher’s car to try and steal the answer guide to a test. Eddie’s groaning and rolling his eyes, but you can tell he’s happy to be surrounded by his old friends. You smile to yourself how they all keep teasing him. How Wayne tries to embarrass him. It’s because they care so deeply about him.

At five minutes to midnight the bar announces the time and everyone starts to get ready for the big countdown. Somehow Steve found some party hats and everyone at the table was wearing one now. Eddie has you practically in his lap, ready for your midnight kiss. Steve has his arm around Nancy’s chair and she’s leaning into him. A girl who wandered from her own friend group over to yours is cuddled up with Jeff, so you’re pretty sure he’s set for a kiss as well. Gareth tries to talk Robin into giving him a midnight kiss but she shudders and physically pushes his face away from her when he tries to get too close.

“One minute, everyone!” a waitress calls out.

There are murmurs around the bar, then everyone begins to count down from sixty.

“To a happy New Year!” Steve says, raising his glass.

“To an amazing 1987!” Andy echoes.

All of you clink glasses in cheers before Eddie pulls you fully into his lap.

“I was going to say I don’t know how 1987 could possibly be better than 1986,” Eddie starts.

You raise an eyebrow and lean in so only he can hear you.

“You mean the year that you discovered there’s a secret dimension under your town and you almost died?”

“Let me finish,” Eddie says, tickling your sides. “I was gonna say that because 1986 is the year I met you. But I only got to know you for about five weeks this year. Next year it’ll get to be a whole fifty-two.”

It may have only been about five weeks but you already know you’ll never get used to him saying such sweet things to you. You lean in to kiss him, but he holds up a finger to your lips to stop you.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “You still have to wait another fourteen seconds.”

The bar gets louder.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Eddie cups your jaw in his hand and presses his lips firmly against yours. One hand makes its way to his hair as you kiss him, smiling into it the whole time. When you pull apart, he’s smiling as well. He rests his forehead against yours and you tangle your fingers with his in your lap.

“Happy New Year, baby.”

“Happy New Year, Eddie.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Crowley not so subtly begging Papa Asim for donations :3c

Ah, yes 😌 A tale as old as time… Nobody let Jamil overhear this—

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Night Raven College is greatly honored by your presence, Mr. Asim!!” Crowley warbled as he flitted around his desk, wine bottle in hand, and right up to his guest. "Please, allow me to pour you a drink!"

Mr. Asim and Kalim were seated in luxurious chairs (something Crowley had specially procured for this occasion), cushions silken and stuffed with the down of baby birds. The businessman was draped in the finest fabrics with expect stitching, brilliant peacock greens, blues, and golds bright against his white hair and rich skin.

He beamed—his smile so much like that of his son—and held up his glass in a hand heavy with sparkling gems. "Most hospitable of you, headmaster. I'll have just a nip, thank you."

"My pleasure!!" Crowley purred, tipping the bottle over. A stream of deep garnet liquid filled Mr. Asim’s glass halfway. The aroma of finely aged grapes and mulled spices filled the headmaster’s office.

“Smells good! Can I have some fruit juice too?” Kalim asked.

“Errr, when you’re older, Asim-kun! For now, you may have sparkling water.”

“Gahahah! Listen to your teacher, Kalim. The man’s job is to keep you safe while you’re at school.”

“Awww… Alright, dad!”

Crowley tended to the boy, then poured himself his own drink. He made himself comfortable back behind his desk. Swirling the wine in his glass, Crowley eyed the (very wealthy) man across the way.

How much cash was stuffed in the inner lining of his suit? How many credit cards could fit in a single wallet? Was one wallet enough to contain all of his financial assets? Surely not.

Family Day was a means of cultivating good will with students’ relatives and netting donations. If he played his cards just right… Crowley licked his chops—he could practically taste the thaumarks now.

Mr. Asim took a healthy swig. “So! Tell me, my good man. How’s my boy been doing this year?”

The headmaster practically jumped to answer the question. He had prepped himself for this, taking care to prune his feedback of any mention of subpar, just-barely-passing grades.

“Ah, yes! Asim-kun is very cheerful and friendly. He’s one of the few in the student body willing to lend an ear and a helping hand to his peers! Truly, a ray of sunshine in the dark, a cool sip of water in the scorching desert!”

“Hmm, that certainly sounds like him.” Mr. Asim thoughtfully stroked his bushy white beard. “Never has been the type to keep to yourself. Gregarious one, he is. At home, Kalim chats up everyone: the locals, the servants, the animals we keep, his siblings. The ability to communicate across different groups is a valuable thing.”

“I wholeheartedly agree!! And Asim-kun is so good at it,” Crowley gushed. “He reaches out to others regardless of their dormitory—why, I’ve seen him inviting staff members and reclusive Ignihyde and Diasomnia students to his get-togethers!” (The headmaster fondly recalled the delicious foods he had stuffed himself with at a recent Scarabian banquet.)

“He’s beloved by members of his dorm. They couldn’t ask for a better person to lead them. His enrollment alone has done so much good for our school!” Crowley paused dramatically, then slyly added, “And, of course, Night Raven College is most gracious for the generous donation received upon your son's transfer. The newly renovated Scarabia dorm is greatly enjoyed by all.

“Alas!! Our school seems to have fallen on hard times as of late. We experienced big commotions on campus between winter break and the cultural festival…” Crowley lamented, holding his head in his hands. Sorrowful sobs punctuated his sentences.

“If only a kind benefactor would spare us a few million thaumarks for repairing and expanding our facilities! F-For the benefit of the children, of course!”

"Mm?" Kalim cocked his head for a moment—then his face lit up with realization. "Oooh, you’re talking about when Jamil—”

“N-Not now, Asim-kun!!” Crowley hastily silenced him. Sweat beaded on his brow. “The adults are talking!”

Mr. Asim set his wine down and leaned forward. His expression became serious as he laced his bejeweled fingers together, eyes narrowing into ruby slivers. At once, his presence was less like that of a jolly neighbor and more like a powerful sultan, ready to command with the wave of his hand.

Crowley gulped. This man was no pushover.

"How is Jamil doing?"

"Viper-kun? " Crowley scrambled for composure. "Th-This meeting is about your son, so I don't see why... I don't know if I can divulge information on other students...!!"

"He is my son's attendant and closest confidant. I should like to know how he fares.” Mr. Asim turned to his son. “Kalim? Your thoughts?”

If he spills the beans, it’s over for me!! Not just no donation, but my reputation—Night Raven College’s reputation—forever tarnished in the eyes of the public!

“N-No,” Crowley said quickly, “I-I can provide a report if that’s what you want!!”

“I want to hear what Kalim has to say first. Go on, my boy.”

The headmaster’s face fell. One testimony from Kalim, and all of his efforts to flatter Mr. Asim would have all been for naught.

“Dad…” Kalim’s face was uncharacteristically flat. “About Jamil, he…”

It’s over.

“Jamil’s been having a hard time at school! But I didn’t know that until really recently. It turns out, he was really upset and hurting, and he couldn’t tell me about it.” Kalim’s eyes drifted shut. “I feel like… I’ve failed him as his friend.

“I want to be the person he can come to if he wants to be heard. I want to support him. Then I thought, ‘maybe the problem is me’. Maybe I’m not that kind of person in Jamil’s eyes. Maybe I’m not good enough yet.

“So… I made a promise to myself, dad! ‘I’ll get better, so one day Jamil can feel good about coming to me’.” Kalim beamed, the sunshine taking up his entire face. “That’s my goal!”

"Hmmm."

Crowley had entirely deflated into his chair. A prayer to the Great Seven was on his lips, begging for mercifulness.

Mr. Asim suddenly smiled, cutting the tension. "That's good to hear."

Crowley bolted up, talons digging into his seat's arms. "I-It is?!"

“There are some things money can’t buy. I could hire the best tutors in Twisted Wonderland—in fact, I did at one point!!—but there are lessons you can only learn through first-hand experience. I wanted Kalim to have those kinds of opportunities, so I sent him to this institution.

“Birds kept in cages never learn to fly on their own." Mr. Asim nodded firmly, placing a hand over his son's. A belly laugh bubbled out. "The world will open up to you if you open your eyes to it and are willing to change with it.

“I'm happy that you were able to come to understand that during your time here. You’ve matured so much, Kalim. You're well on your way to becoming a dignified successor."

"Wow, you really think so, dad?"

"Yes, I see that the future is in good hands."

Mr. Asim stood and reached into his suit. Crowley's heart stood still when he produced a gold-plated fountain pen topped by enormous diamond and… a rectangular pad of papers.

Jackpot: his checkbook.

“I'd like to invest in that future,” Mr. Asim continued with a laugh, “and in this fine, reputable establishment. Name your number, Crowley, and you shall have it.”

“R-Really?! ANY number?!” There were practically thaumarks dancing in the headmaster’s beady little eyes.

Crowley seized Mr. Asim’s free hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “Thank you so very much, sir!! I can guarantee you that these funds will be put to good use!”

[yanderes-galore]

Hello! May I request a winter request for borderlands 2 (or 3 you can choose either tbh) with Moxxi? Perhaps darling brings her a hot chocolate to start off the festivities? Darling can with be civilian or vault hunter, you may choose! And thank you again!

-MissPlacedHero

Sure! Here you go! Sorry it's short and took a dark turn, yet that's the nature of these fics lol.

Special Drinks

Yandere! Mad Moxxi Short - Winter Event Request

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Intoxication, Drinking until passing out, Manipulation, Kidnapping implied, Flirting, Forced affection (Sorta), Possessive behavior implied at times, Slight guilt, Coercion, Forced relationship.

“Cold out there, isn't it?” Moxxi asks you as you enter the bar. A small bag is in your arms and you take your seat at her bar. Moxxi can't help but smile, you came when she called!

“Yeah… how do you not get cold?” You chuckle, gesturing to her. She knew what you were getting at.

“Oh, I have my ways.” Moxxi laughs. “What's in the bag?”

“Look, I know you specialize in alcohol, but why not some hot chocolate for the holidays?” You offer, pushing the bag to her. Moxxi looks in it briefly, it is indeed ingredients for the holiday drink. 

Moxxi gets an idea in her eyes, briefly looking at you before nodding.

“Oh sure, sugar. Anything for you, right?” Moxxi teases before taking the ingredients behind the counter. Weren't you just so innocent?

She'd be so lucky to call you hers….

“Hot Chocolate is good and all… but it's the holidays, right?” Moxxi grins towards you. “Why not celebrate a little more… with me?”

You should've expected this. This is Moxxi's bar, of course she has a special thing planned for you. Willing to bite the bullet you accept.

“Fine, give me what you got.”

If only you didn't say such a thing.

Moxxi only felt encouraged when you consented to her plan. She quickly grabs one of the stronger drinks she has and gets to mixing. Poor you… you had no idea what her plan was.

You were blissfully unaware as she passed you drink after drink. She shares the first one with you and you both chat. Then came the next one. Maybe even another.

Slowly you began to hit your peak. Your speech was slurred yet you could still listen to Moxxi's words. All she did was watch you with a mischievous grin.

“Y'know, sugar…” Moxxi drawls, reaching over the counter to grab your free hand. “It was mighty nice of you to come over this holiday.”

“Mm… yeah?” You answer, a smile on your face.

“Well, I've been wondering…” Moxxi hums, bringing your hand up to her lips. “How do you feel about me?”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, confusion on your face.

“Sugar… I've been thinking about you for a while and I've been waiting until now to tell you.” Moxxi confesses, pressing her lips softly to the back of your hand. “I'd be honored to declare you as mine.”

“Moxxi… I-” You try to respond, having a hard time putting your words together. “I don't know-”

“Oh, please… I've been looking for the one to settle down with. I do believe that's you, sugar.” Moxxi continues to flirt, holding your hand still.

You choose to stop drinking the spiked drink and try to stand up. Moxxi lets go of your hand momentarily and comes out from behind the counter. Just in time to catch you when you stumble.

“Dear… you've drank too much, let me help you-” Moxxi offers yet you try to refuse.

“Moxxi, how much did you-” You try to ask but she cuts you off.

“You look sick, sit down and rest.” Moxxi suggests, sitting you on a sofa. Your vision begins to fail you. Oh… how much did you drink?

“Moxxi-” You ask again in a frightened tone. 

“Don't worry…” Moxxi coos, pulling you close. “Just rest… I'll take care of you.”

It was such an underhanded tactic, getting you so drunk at a bar that she can move you. Part of her feels bad but she'd been waiting so long for this. She wouldn't take advantage of you or anything… but she will be taking you home.

At home you can get all the rest you need. So, as Moxxi waits for you to give into the alcohol you willingly took from her, she can't stop smiling. Truthfully… there's only one thing she wants around this time of year…

It just so happens to be your love.

[rosewaterandivy]

5. a ticket to anywhere

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, depictions of bar fights, winter holidays (Christmas), call outs to It’s A Wonderful Life, two idiots making bad decisions in spite of their feelings, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance. 

A/N: Ohmygod, sorry for falling off the face of the earth! Had a bit a writer’s block with this bad boy, but hopefully that’s rectified now. Here’s 5K of idiots being bad at feelings; feedback and reblogs are appreciated, enjoy!

series masterlist | playlist

previous || next

Then - Winter break, December

Going to The Hideout the last day of term was tradition. A celebratory drink to kick off the festivities of winter break (mostly sleeping in, if you were being honest) and relax a bit. Unfortunately, that was not in the cards tonight. As Steve quickly found out at the bar.

“Funny seeing you here Harrington,” he says, sipping from his pint glass. “Would’ve throught the two of you’d be cozied up by now.”

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble,” Steve says, signaling for the bartender, “Just ordering drinks and I’ll be on my way.”

He pauses, considering Steve’s words. A scoff as he shakes his head, “Course she didn’t tell you, figures.”

Steve ticks his jaw, fuse growing shorter and shorter the longer he stands here with him. He should’ve just sent Robin to get the drinks. 

“Not at all curious why we broke up?”

That about tears it. 

He turns to your ex, appraising him in his drunken stupor. “No offense,” he spits, “But I could give a fuck about your excuse for putting her through all that.” 

“Mm, I see.” He signals for another drink, “Guess it doesn’t matter the reason, as long as you get yours, eh?”

“Excuse me?”

Kyle sets the drinks down in front of Steve, staying close to keep an eye on the situation. Steve nods in thanks.

“Well,” he sighs, grabbing the drinks in both hands, “I would say it was nice talkin’ to ya, but we both know that’s a lie.”

He’s halfway back to the table when he hears it, a snide voice ringing out from the bar: “Told her it’s ‘cause I didn’t want your sloppy seconds.”

Steve stops short, beer sloshing over the glasses where they’re balanced between his hands. Robin sees as he girts his teeth, jaw strained. She hops up from the booth and takes the drinks from him, nods when he says, “Keep her distracted or get her out of here.”

The bar isn’t silent by any means, but the regulars know enough to be wary as Steve turns on his heel and slowly walks toward the man in question. “What was that now?”

His voice is soft, just loud enough for it to pique your ex’s interest. He turns toward Steve, smirk fixed on his face. “Too many knocks to the head Harrington? I said—“

Thumb tucked over his fingers and knees slightly bent, like your dad taught him, Steve’s fist collides with the man’s jaw before he can finish the sentence, liquor and spit spilling from his mouth. He stumbles back against the barstools, attempting to stand back up.

“Think that’s last call for you,” Kyle says, sliding the bill toward him, voice gruff. “Close out and leave.”

His eyes narrow as he wipes his mouth, hand coming away bloody. “Considering the circumstances,” he spits on the floor, saliva tinted red, “I think you’ll find my tab comped for the trouble.”

Steve remains where he is, both stunned by his own actions and terrified for any retaliation. Kyle looks from the man in front of him to Steve and back to the booth where Robin is struggling to restrain you. 

“Considering the circumstances, I think you’ll find yourself banned from The Hideout.” He sighs, exasperated, “Come back to fuck around and find out,” he warns eyeing you as you make your way toward them, “And I’ll let Trouble finish the job.”

He takes the hint, shrugging into his jacket as he walks toward the door. “Sorry sweetheart,” he calls out mockingly, “I tried. Seems like Harrington just can’t take a hint!”

“Hey, fucko!” 

You’re in the middle of it before Robin or Steve and wrangle you back - one hand fisting his jacket, knuckles turning white as the shirt beneath, teeth bared and glinting in the light. Your nose is pressed up against his, voice biting and acidic when you hiss, “You feeling brave today?”

Steve is suddenly reminded of that fact that you played roller derby in college. And you were scary good. Not just the skating and endurance, but the shit-talking and intimidation tactics, too. The occasional brawl. He swallows audibly, earning a look from Robin.

Shocked silent, your ex shakes his head furiously and you exhale, satisfied with the response. 

Slowly, your fist uncurls, leaving a wrinkled shape of your fingers and thumb in a vengeful imprint. With a calm smoothing of your palm, you press the jacket flat and leave the bar without another word.

Eddie finds you in the parking lot as he’s walking in to The Hideout. Shivering in the cold as the adrenaline leaves your body. Coat left behind in the booth, your wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. 

He drops his jacket around your shoulders and turns you around. “Hey killer,” he greets with a soft smile. “Wanna go for a drive?”

You nod as he leads you to his car, opening the door for you to slip in. You’re reeling from the confrontation with your drunk ex-fiancé and the fact that Steve punched him–holyshit–and then bartender Kyle banned him.

What the actual fuck.

Eddie is quiet as he pulls onto the main drag, fingers tapping along with the beat of the music. You’d wager Metallica or Dio, but it sounds an awful lot like—

“Jeremy spoke in class today,” Eddie warbles out in his best Eddie Vedder impression. 

It’s enough for you to crack a smile at the ridiculousness of it all. To be fair, it was a truly terrible impression, a disservice to both Eddie as a singer and the frontman of Pearl Jam.

“There it is,” he says, noticing your smile, “Knew you didn’t stand a chance against 90s grunge.”

He turns on a county road just outside of town, ignoring the notifications piling up on his phone. Eddie has half a mind to ask you to text Rob for him, but thinks better of it.

You’re still quiet, taking in the frosted scene outside of Hawkins. He still finds it odd that you can be this quiet, much more accustomed to your general vibe of chaos and a complete lack of impulse control. 

“Steve punched him,” you say, seemingly out of the blue, as Eddie comes to a stop by the lake. “My ex, I mean. Just popped him on the jaw after he started talking shit.”

“Huh.”

The car still thrums with heat, as you sink down into the seat closing your eyes. “I wasn’t close enough to really hear what he was saying,” you continue, “Rob was basically yelling in the booth and showing me these dumb TikToks at like, the loudest her volume could go.”

Eddie nods, knowing she was doing her best to distract you, probably at Steve’s request. 

“Then, the next thing I know, he’s back against the barstools and Steve’s winding up for another shot.”

“And you tried to stop it?”

“Yeah,” you open your eyes tiredly. “I hadn’t seen him since…” you trail off and look out the window again, “I don’t know why I did that, confronted him, I mean.”

“Did it help?”

Eddie watches as you pause, searching for the words that will somehow have this all make sense.

A slow shake of your head, “No, not really. I just wanted it to stop.”

He hums in agreement, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. 

“Why do you think he did it?”

Your voice is soft, you look so small tucked against the seat, his jacket nearly swallowing you. Eddie sighs for lack of a response, and shrugs.

“Dunno, sweetheart,” he reaches for your hand and gives it a squeeze because he knows why Steve did it, he’s always known. But he can’t say shit to you about it.

He starts the car up once more, suggests something like Dairy Queen, which you readily take him up on (“Ice cream in December, fuck me up, man.”). 

You’re quiet once more which allows him to ponder exactly why Steve decided to deck your asshole ex-fiancé. 

And all he can circle back to is that god damn lab project he and Steve had back in high school, when Steve was with Nancy but, hand to god, would not look at, talk to, or breathe in Eddie’s general direction for a month after he’d learned you’d lost your virginity to him.

Poor Robin had to mediate the entire thing.

So, yeah. Eddie knows why Steve is the way he is about you. He’s known before Steve could figure it out for himself. 

The stubborn idiot was in love with you, had been half in love with you since god knew when, and had realized it, too little, too late.

Over the next few days, random thoughts and memories are fleeting through your mind and come seemingly without prompting. Just little things, you’re not sure why you’ve fixated on them. 

The conversation you had with Eddie as he painted your nails at the cabin, for example. Talking about high school and the stupid shit you’d gotten up to. Specifically, the pact: you and Eds, your parents away on business, and an empty house.

“Yeah, but I gave my v-card to you Eds,” you say, the scent of nail polish invading your nostrils.

“Pfft, on a technicality.”

You sputter indignantly, “Whaddya mean by that?” Shooing him away from your nails to blow them dry, “I give you the greatest gift I have to give and you swoop in and take a dump on me like that?!”

He laughs, moving onto your next hand, brush dipping back into the bottle of polish. “Yeah, such a travesty,” he teases you, “Everyone else has to get a sweater, huh?”

“Fuck off for real chump,” you grouse, “You should be so lucky.”

“I know babe, you’re always a delight.”

It was nice, all things considered; you wouldn’t change a thing. Steve was weird for a bit afterwards, but other than that no notes. 

Eddie was good like that, your resident fuckbuddy and “safe dick” during the lulls in your respective romantic lives.

Or when Nancy, slightly sloshed after dinner, pointed out something during the bonfire later that same trip. 

“C’mon babe,” Nancy tuts, sipping from her glass of wine, “You and Steve have been orbiting each other for years.”

“We’re friends!” you defend, voice a scoff, “Just friends.”

Nancy laughs, sets her glass down on the table. “Whatever you’ve gotta tell yourself, Trouble,” she stands and stretches, blanket falling from her shoulders. She sets you with a look, a fond one tinged with concern. “But friends don’t look at each other like that.” Nods to where Steve and Eddie sit across the firepit from you.

It’s there and gone in a split second; for a fleeting moment, Steve looks at you hung the moon or something. The next, his eyes shift back to Eddie, nodding along with whatever he’d said.

Huh, you think, that’s … different.

Nancy throws the blanket over her arm and grabs her glass, ready to head in for the night. Crouches beside you, hand settling against your shoulder, head bent close to yours, “He’s never stopped that,” her breath brushes against your heated skin.

“Stopped what?”

She smiles, firelight illuminating the fond pull of her lips, “Looking at you like you’re the only star in the sky.”

These are the thoughts that torment you and bring up other instances you hadn’t considered as significant before: Steve designating you as his plus one for nearly every family function he’d been drug to, your parents looking at the pair of you with knowing smiles despite your insistence of “just friends,” Mrs. Harrington knowing you by name and Nancy as “the Wheeler girl,” your exes being perpetually possessive over you and jealous of Steve. 

The list goes on and on.

It’s as if everyone was privy to knowledge that you didn’t have.

God. Had you really been so blind?

Curled up on the night before Christmas Eve, or Christmas Eve-Eve as Robin insisted, sweater paws and blankets abound. Eddie and Robin were visiting their families, and Nancy had the usual Wheeler festivities. Leaving you and Steve alone at the loft, Steve’s parents opting to vacation somewhere warm while yours visit your brother in New Mexico. Cookies had been baked, flour and frosting still dusting the counters; a panoply of colors and sprinkles. 

It’s a Wonderful Life played softly in the background, black and white images flitting across the screen. Somewhat a secret tradition between the two of you, watching the holiday classic without the usual obnoxious running commentary.

Your hand finds his chest in excitement, “This parts my–” 

“Favorite,” he drawls, “I know, honey.”

Steve’s hand drops from your shoulder to nudge your face back to the screen, fingers caressing your jaw, the high point of your cheek, “If you don’t look now, you’re gonna miss it.”

His eyes flit back up to the film, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from him. 

Lips moving along and whispering George Bailey’s lines: “What is it that you want Mary? Whaddya want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”

Your hand reaches up and presses against his stubble, scratching your palm. Its familiar scrape has rested upon your head countless times. You could cry as you push back the errant hair that’s fallen across his face, returning the gestures he’s always done for you.

And in that moment, it all falls into place.

“Hey, that’s a pretty good idea,” you rasp, picking up where he left off. “I’ll give you the moon, Stevie.”

Your bare legs peak out from underneath the blanket, one hand on your thigh, the sleeves of his stolen sweatshirt loose and engulfing your fingers. The hollow of your throat taut from holding your breath – it makes him want to touch you. It makes him want you. 

He’s sick. He’s dying. He is so, so fucked.

“What...” he trails off, thought gone before he’d even begun. 

He feels split open, like the sky after a storm. Torn up completely, unable to grasp anything in his own turbulence. All because you’re looking at him like you’ve realized something.

Fuck.

You’ve always been an oblivious idiot, too stubborn for your own good, a dumbass with no survival instincts, heart on your sleeve. He’s counted on that to conceal his big, fat, stupid crush on you. And it had worked, all throughout high school, college, and the devastating news of your engagement.

Worked like a charm, up until it didn’t. And now he’s caught out, your scope trained on him like he’s a lone stag in an open field. You’ve lined up the shot, all that’s left is to pull the trigger.

Steve doesn’t think he can bear it.

“Don’t,” he pleads into the silence, head tipped up to the ceiling, eyes screwed shut in pre-emptive heartbreak. “Don’t say it–”

“Then I won’t,” you say before miming locking your lips and throwing away the key. Calm and patient as you settle your way into his lap again.

He’s terrified and dizzy, fumbling with a million different outcomes and failing each time. Relationships have never quite worked out for him; too stupid, too jealous, too little, too late. 

Steve had gotten better; dated a few girls, and liked them a lot too, but they never worked out how he’d planned. And this one–this one, he really can’t fuck up.

Your lashes are so long and pretty. The curve of your cupid’s bow, a shape he adores. Even the tiny scar on your chin and the way your hair shifts— wavy strands framing your face. 

Steve’s mind blessedly stills as your lips brush his — warm and eager, coaxing his own to move at your touch, “Stop thinking Steve,” your breath fans across his lips, “And just kiss me.”

It’s surreal. He’s there, in one sense, with you curled up in his lap, watching as you press against him—palms to his chest, hips slotting against his own. 

But Steve is also recalling nights at the cabin, back in November. You, idiot that you are, without pajamas and wearing one of his shirts instead, legs bare underneath the covers. He’d woken up every day of that god forsaken trip pressed against you, sleeping better than he had in months, and painfully aware of his hard on against the perfect curve of your ass.

And you, thankfully, had never said a thing about it. And he’d never brought it up; he was mindful to give you space and extricate himself as quietly as possible before an icy cold shower.

Steve feels like he’s in two places at once, the same inscrutable emotion suspended across space and time. 

“It’s just me.” You say, comfortable and lighthearted. “You know me.”

Your eyes glimmer, a familiar color and gaze calling him home. 

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “Yeah, I do, honey.” 

He’s scared to death, terrified and dizzy. Because Steve’s known for a while now, this is it for him. You are it, alpha and omega, beginning and end, as above so below. And it’s not at all how he thought it would be.

It’s quiet and hesitant, the seconds stretching into horrible eons of passing time. You tilt your head this way and that, eyes tracing his face.

The knowing is what gets him. He’s never been one for genre conventions, more comfortable with the reliability of indisputable fact. And he’s flummoxed to learn that two things can be true at the same time.

It’s everything and nothing like the writers, artists, and visionaries say. Steve is in love with you: fact. Some part of him has known this since you scaled his fence, mistaking it for yours, as you tried to sneak back in your house after missing your curfew all those summers ago: fact.

Love at first sight, even though it’s not quite first sight at all. 

It’s fleeting glances across crowded hallways, laughs echoing from classrooms, waking up in a daze having dreamt of you, last minute road trips and running through terminals to catch flights; but it’s also the melancholy as you leave for yet another date, lingering touches when you round the desk of his classroom, soft smiles meant just for him.

He really can’t fuck this up. A chance with you and your chaos, your kindness, and quick wit. It’s overwhelming, like a tidal wave crashing against the shore during a storm. Insurmountable, the pressure dissipating in his chest as he realizes it.

Steve flushes, and in the split second of your tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, he tells himself, do it, you coward, just fucking do it— and, god help him, he does.

Then the entire room bursts into flames. Your lips are searing hot against his— plump and eager, leaving scorched trails everywhere they touch, and Steve thrums like a strike of lightning trying to catch his breath. 

Steve watches the way you pull him toward you, glowing and euphoric with kiss-swollen lips, and fucking Christ, he knows.

The next morning brings a swell of guilt rising in your chest, and you know that the events of last night cannot happen again. 

Kissing Steve, your best friend, like it wasn’t some cataclysmic thing– you were such a fucking idiot. It was too much and too soon, and you’d somehow already fucked it up before it could begin.

You’d never been so grateful for Robin’s shitty timing, but her drunkenly stumbling in the loft with Vickie in tow had been enough for you to disentangle yourself from Steve and hightail it to the opposite end of the couch. 

His eyes were wide, lips pink and cheeks fevered— he wouldn’t stop looking at you. 

And you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

You exchanged greetings with Robin and Vickie before excusing yourself and heading to bed. Nancy said you could use her room for the night, so you quietly shut the door and failed to will yourself to sleep.

Now, it’s the morning of Christams Eve and you’re cleaning up the kitchen. Steve wandered in earlier, and methodically gathered the glasses and plates from the haphazard dinner you’d shared last night, only to deposit them in the sink next to you.

His fingers trailed against your forearm, sleeve rucked up as you sprayed and wiped the countertops ridding them of flour and cookie dough. 

You fail to suppress your surprised gasp at the sensation, soft and warm, with enough latent promise to give you goosebumps allover.

He lingers, fingers grasped around your elbow now. Three successive taps to ask are you okay?

Robin and Vickie’s voices trail down the hall, letting you know they’re up even if the door hasn’t opened just yet.

You swallow, finding that you’re unable to respond verbally, throat dry and tight. Nor are you able to tap back, as per your code, hands busy with cleaning. Instead, you rock back into his frame with a sigh and allow his arm to wrap around your hips.

Content with a job well done, you leave the spray and cloth on the counter and turn to face him. And, confirming Nancy’s observation, Steve looks at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at; his hazel eyes soft, the green giving way to flecks of gold around his pupil, but tinged with apprehension.

And damn, if it doesn’t make you want to kiss him again.

But you can’t and you need to stop this before it goes any further. 

While there are feelings there, for the both of you (you hope), you are nowhere near ready to have that discussion with Steve. Nor do you want to unnecessarily complicate matters. You’d only just began casually dating again, for fuck’s sake.

“Steve I–,” you croak out before he stops you with his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. He’s somehow backed you against the countertop, effectively caging you in.

And you know if you asked or signaled that you were uncomfortable in any way, he’d let you go. But you find that you aren’t, in fact, you feel the opposite, Steve’s weight against you is soothing in a way; as if he’s a perfect blend of a man too attractive for his own good and a weighted blanket. 

Odd metaphor, but your addled brain allows it.

He doesn’t try to kiss you again, though the weaker part of you wouldn’t be opposed, but simply takes you in, his eyes roving across your face and body. As if he could discern your emotion or anticipate what you’d been trying to say. 

His thumb settles along the notch of bone at your hip, tracing circles through the fabric of his your hoodie. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he swallows, your eyes following the movement of his throat and the constellation of freckles there.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says eventually, voice soft but resigned.

You stare up at him, eyes wide and can feel the heat creeping up your body in embarrassment. Your hand finds purchase against his shoulder, settling there while your thumb traces the line of his collarbone. 

“I mean, I’d like to,” he clears his throat, “Eventually. But I know you’re going through a lot and I’d hate to add to that, so.” His glances down at his feet, a lovely flush on his cheeks matching the ruddy tone of his lips. 

Shit, you really need to stop staring at his lips.

“Okay.”

He gives your hips a reassuring squeeze and pushes himself upright. Steve turns to check the clock on the microwave, eyes catching the time. 

“Ready for your present?”

He’s all smiles now, eyes glinting with mischief as you let out an exasperated pfft and roll your eyes. Steve treated gift-giving like it was a competition to be won, and Steve always won, without fail from year to year.

With a nod from you, he drags you over to the chaotically decorated Christmas tree in the living room and sits down in front of it while you plop down on the ottoman. Another thing he insists on, Steve always plays Santa and hands out gifts to everyone, the one’s he’d purchased them go first, without saying.

Neither of you can remember when it started, but the pair of you always exchanged one gift on Christmas Eve. And you worked for years to get the gifts down to a certain budget and number, but somehow Steve “forgot” that agreement more and more as each year passed on. 

Despite growing up in the Harrington household, which abided by strict holiday themes and color schemes under his mother’s guiding hand, Steve could not be fucked to 1) wrap a gift with any sense of order or presentation and 2) have thematic wrapping paper or accoutrements. 

Which is how an impossibly wrapped gift proclaiming ‘Merry Rexmas!’ from shiny green T-Rexes with far too much tape and not enough wrapping paper ended up in your hand. It was also, based on its lack of weight, something that definitely should have gone in a gift bag. 

He sets you with a smirk, “Go on then, open it,” your gift for him in his hand. The lights from the tree twinkle behind him, casting Steve in a warm glow and you look to the task at hand to avoid doing something stupid.

Again.

You peel back the paper and tape to reveal a soft gray leather stamped with your initials. “It’s beautiful,” you say, as you continue to unwrap it, thumb skimming over smooth surface. 

Steve watches as you do so. “There’s uh,” he rasps, voice just above a whisper, “More on the inside.”

You quirk a brow in interest and pull the zip to open it up. Inexplicably, he’s moved all the contents of your previous wallet to this new one, you can’t help but laugh. Fingers tripping along the contents, you pull the flap at the back of the wallet to reveal not cash, but plane tickets.

“What?”

He moves from his position in front of the tree closer to you, hand settling along the ottoman. “I figured you could use a break.”

“Steve, this is too much. I–,” you stop before you give away how overcome you are. You blink back the tears threatening to fall and swallow in an effort to soothe your rapidly closing throat.

He’s quiet, contemplating whether you’re really upset with him over the extravagance of his gift. When your hand finds his, he’s reassured. He watches as you pull the tickets from the wallet and eye them warily.

You clear your throat, thumb skimming across the back of his hand, and say far too calmly, “These are for this afternoon. And there’s a ticket here with your name on it, oddly enough.”

“Huh,” he smirks, “How about that.”

“What are you playing at Harrington?”

Steve stands up, stretching casually before making his way to the hallway. You trail after him with furtive whispers of his name, needling him for some semblance of a response. He disappears into his room for a moment and returns with a backpack slung over his shoulder and not one but two rolling bags, one in white and the other in black.

“That’s not my luggage,” you say when he stops in front of you. 

It’s decidedly not your luggage because you’ve been meaning to replace it for years since it’s falling apart at the seams. Too many excursions where it had taken a beating, whether thrown into the cargo hold of a plane or strapped to the top of a rickshaw or bus, clinging on for dear life. No tag or branding in sight, but you notice the two TSA locks and leather luggage tag and file it away for further investigation.

“It is now,” is his reply as he walks you back to the living room. He places your Christmas present to him in his backpack and zips it back up before turning to you. “As much as I love the look Trouble,” he smirks, eyes working you up and down, “I think the TSA are going to insist on pants, of some kind.”

Your face colors remembering your current state. Overheated as you baked cookies the night prior, you shucked your yoga leggings and threw them on a sofa somewhere before promptly forgetting about them as the night carried on.

Locating them, you pull them hastily back on. “But I’m not packed,” you point out. Rightfully so, since the majority of your wardrobe still resides in your former home with your ex-fiancé. “And I don’t even know where we’re going. Plus,” you continue walking toward him, “I haven’t even agreed to this ridiculous idea of yours.”

Steve grins at your petulance, he’d anticipated it in fact. “Nancy helped me out, no need to worry,” he taps the white suitcase at his feet. He steps closer to you, thumb landing at the center of your chin while his other fingers fall into place curled underneath your chin and prompts you to look up at him.

“Now,” he begins, voice soft and steady, “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to. But you’d mentioned wanting to get away and it was either this or spring break.” His breath fans along your cheeks, and you can pick up the scent of his coffee from earlier. “The choice is yours.”

In for a penny, in for a pound.

With a sigh, you grab your new wallet and check for your phone in your leggings. Determining that as sufficient, you run a hand through your hair and say, “Did you bring my—”

“Your ridiculous pillow that makes you look like a hostage when you sleep?” He smiles and does nothing to prevent his laughter at your extravagant sleep routine. “Why yes, in fact,” he takes your hand and leads you to the door to grab your coat, purse, and shoes, “I got you the travel size so you can horrify all the passengers on the plane.”

“Lucky me,” you grouse, toeing on your boots in a huff.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a smile, “Something like that.”

[thescribeoflostmemories]

Secret Santa

Yan(?)! Capitano x wife! Reader

(Yes, it's the huntress reader)

Warning: Unhealthy relationship, Lemon Pudding, black-mailing(?), smexy time, inaccurate depictions of drunken-ness, some fluff and crackers. Mild yandere

lil summary: Waifu tried to get away from hubby but ended up bonding a bit with the help of someone during the festivals.

ps. I was in a hurry to make this before the month ends, hopefully next xmas would be me completing the other harbingers (probably)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have no idea how you got pulled into this, one moment you were fraying your husband for cuddling you in bed (Well actually, you were the one who’s cuddling him) the next you were told by one of the sermon goers named Sister Pangita to aid in carolling for the unfortunate. You tried to deny the invitation (forcefully) but you relent, since it’s not always how you get to enjoy the winter holidays. Even if you get to see your arrogant husband to whom you will gladly ignore the whole night too.

“ So you’re telling us we could get injured?”

“Yep, which is why I asked some soldiers and agents to help us with getting the presents to the recipients.” Sister Pangita says with a wide smile, her curly dark hair tucked under her nun cap.

“Uhm, Sister Pangita?” Raising your hand to catch her attention, her gaze fixated to you , making you shiver in the cold. Even with only one eye, the anxiety you felt never ceased.

“Mm, yes, miss?” Gesturing you to speak up.

“What if someone is in critical condition once engaged?”

“Do not worry, you are free from your burdens if you just hand the presents and list to the next worker.” She speaks as if it were no big deal. But it is concerning to you that there are some people in the group who don't seem to know how to fight.

“Though, it is why we picked a select few like you who are capable of fighting these thieves. After our caroling, I have the soldiers and agents scatter for you to join and aid you in your quest to complete the ending year.” Sister clapped her hands, a smile on her face formed on her sickly image.

You tried, keyword here tried to match their voice, though you end up with a sore one with how much you tried to control your voice with a falsetto. People kept looking at you weird and wondering if you should even be here. 

Sister Pangita had handed you a sack of presents and a list of names who had been good this year. With a sigh you put the list in the pocket of your dress. Your bow and arrows on your back. 

Your husband insisted you wear these embarrassing clothes, your back is exposed to the elements. On your back is a big green bow that holds the dress in a tight fit, green gloves keep your hands nice and warm.

Feet trekked on the snow that did little to no hindrance to your journey. This quest proved to be difficult due to how your monstrous spouse had sheltered you away and did not let you out unless he came with you.

Not noticing a person blocking your way. Your voice got soft from suddenly feeling the coldness on your face. “Oh I beg your-” You look up and see the hulking figure of your husband in armor, his white coat replaced with a red one, outside is decorated like a festive tree…

Silence before closing your eyes and make a U-turn, shouting “Sister Pangita! Sister Pangita! Where are you?! I got a sprained ankle!” Your fast paced walking turned into running to make Capitano lose sight of you. You quickly want to be relieved of your burden of being the festive gift giver.

“Dove!” He called out, the clanks of metal footsteps can be heard growing closer.

“Fuck off!” Cursing at him, not minding if you received stares from other people since they knew you loathe him. The soft clinks of your shoes sound against the pavement, the snow here has already been cleared of.

With a sharp turn you hid between houses. Capitano going past you. And saw a small group of children, “Oh, children!” You called out to them, and they turned to you.

“Yes, miss?” One little boy with long black hair and blue eyes stared brightly at you.

“I think, I saw Mr. Santa over there.” You pointed at Capitano who was asking a person over there if they saw you.

“You did?!” Their eyes lit up and went over to see Capitano, making you chortle a bit and ran off with the sack of your own gifts to bestow to children.

“DOVE!” Enraged roar can be heard in the distance as hurried feet nearly give away your location by leaving footprints.

Soon when you think the chase is over, you are ambushed by the ‘thieves’ that wanted the gifts. Cryo slimes and based creatures partnered with a few people to command them.

“Aren’t you a little old to be expecting gifts!” It wasn’t a question as you drew the bow and aimed it at the creatures to electrocute them.

"Why! Don't! You! Relax! It's a holiday! " Each phrase you released arrows at them, not noticing another one sneaking up at you. Ready to strike, yet it never made an impact on your vulnerable backside. 

The opponent tossed aside as if a rag doll. “Your methods of capturing my attention are perplexing, Dove.” A familiar tone of arrogance called out, or so you think of it as such. 

“And I was hoping to have a nice relaxing evening with just the two of us and not to be accosted, by children!” Ironically, with his heavy armor, he managed to take down half of the enemies matching your speed. 

“I would have enjoyed the event! If you haven’t!” You gave out a few more arrows covering his blind spots while he charged at the ones behind you. “Joined in!”

“Seems they all left.” Indeed, It wasn’t until long after the others had realized going after you is not worth it. The others seemed to have fled and carried away their fallen allies.

A puff of warm breath escaped your lips, pushing back your hair. " The fuck are you staring for?” You had noticed him staring at your back side for a bit there. 

“Nothing, find it quite odd you haven’t run off again.” he replied simply. Making you turn to him, weapons tucked away securely to your back.

"Fuck you." You grumbled. Hand going through your hair again and scratching an itch.

"Sorry but you aren’t in the list." With how on edge you are, you are easily annoyed and replied hastily with.

"Like hell I would have my time spent with you in bed" Stomping off without him again, this time you dragged your small sack of presents… Of course Capitano easily found you and you got lost on the way there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the house of one of your recipients, Capitano seemed to be baffled at the notion of going inside. “A chimney, can’t we just put it by the door?” He says looking at you struggling to get up the house, thankfully there’s no fire.

“No can do Capybara, if we just leave it outside then the thieves can just snatch it right up.- Woah!” Capitano was about to catch you but you held your grip on the roof more. You rather fall than get caught by him.

“Be careful.” He says.

“Pipe it, tin can. I know what I’m doing.” You grunt, it’s a wonder why he hasn’t gotten rid of you yet. If you were in his shoes you wouldn’t tolerate the unhealthy relationship. For all you know he has a thing for spouses nagging his ear off or saying terrible things about him. 

While you’re busy climbing up and getting on the chimney, Capitano is actually enjoying the view of that upskirt. Though too bad you climbed too quickly.

Your problem with leaving the gift isn't much to think about since it was late at night. But a rather nice child had left you a note and left some snacks for you, and no cookies were spared on that plate.

Once you got out of the house, you safely got back to the roof. Swinging your arms in preparation to jump down, a bird flew by surprising you and causing you to fall down to his arms. “Told you to be careful, dove.” He laughed using his free hand to rub off the crumb off your lip, you blushed. That earned a smack on his shoulder for that, it wasn’t that hard compared to the previous smacks you had given him.

And so, both of you went to the next recipients to break in through the chimney or lock picked just to drop the gifts off… At this point you were tired. You went ahead of your husband and met a familiar man by the guest room.

“Yo, lil’ firecracker~” He waved at you with a bottle of booze in hand, and how could you say no to an old friend…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your husband wanted to check on you since you looked pretty much tired from caroling and the events of earlier. His thoughts were disturbed by a familiar chuckle from the guest room. Just as he was about to enter, Simeon came out with a bag in hand. Annoyed that this pest just waltz in the house without him being notified. He had to fire who let him in.

" Hey, relax, this happens all the time. But thanks pal, I managed to get in contact with Miss Sandrone!" How optimistic, typical. Leaning his arm on the general’s.

" Bah, don't look so sour bro. " Simeon hiccupped, but he looked off, a heavy scent of booze wafted through his breath. 

"Got you a lil' gift, heard you were complaining about a few things and she wanted some fun… So why not loosen up" he passes the brown bag to the general.

“A lil something- something, a friend of mine made it. Though use it sparingly~" Before Capitano could say anything, Simeon already left, still waddling away from his vision.

Capitano can handle him next time since his main priority is with you, his wife. Once he enters, the armor wearing man is greeted by a surprise. You drunk off your mind, your arms embracing him.

“Dove, you’re drunk. You need some rest.” patting your shoulders, but you didn’t shrug it off unlike the first time he did it.

“I know… It’s just too cold on the bed.” Rubbing your head against him, you aren’t even watching where your hands are going. Trailing on his chest, he pulled back. 

“You should take a bath, I’ll have one of the maids draw you one-” He looked back at you, seeing how you held on to him again so tightly.

"I…  love you~" Your voice muffled against him, his hand on the handle was let go.

“You’re on dangerous grounds, _____.” You heard him but in response you just pulled him to the bed. And you said something you shouldn’t have. But who was he to deny his wife some affections?

That night he's been smothered with kisses and body coated in hickies. You might even see traces of your lipstick on his neck and face if he doesn't cover it up with his armor.

And in the morning, you wouldn’t want to get out of bed until late in the afternoon. It was a good thing that Capitano went away as soon as he woke up early and had you dressed so you wouldn’t find out, if you did he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Can you stop staring? It’s giving me the creeps…” Your face scrunched up in discomfort as you ate some soup. The warmth of the broth eases your pain as your husband just coughs.

“Sorry.”

Dessert time 🍮 warning!

The memory of you between his legs and forcing him open remained in his mind for a good while.  " Mmm… " From within the room, he could hear how hard you're sucking him. He most likely didn't expect to get this sort of gift instead.

Head between his legs, your hands kept him there. You could feel the grip he has on your scalp making you deep throat his entire length into you.

With a loud wet pop, you catch your breath. The large shaft of your husband rests on your head, warm breath fans on him. He couldn't get enough seeing that cute face looking up at him, worshiping him, teasing the red head.

"Chu." You playfully kissed his tip, making him groan softly, rubbing him still, coating his whole member in spit preparing him for the next hole to enter.

He remembered how quickly you tried to strip yourself, ended up getting his help to undo the dress. Everything felt so fuzzy. All you could feel is your apparel never felt so irritating to wear at the moment which was gone in a flash.

"Yes!" You cried, tears fell from your face as your legs holds him closer when he gave one last thrust.

[switch-writer]

Grumps and Giggles in the Snow

(A/N: Ahhh, the holiday season has kept me busy but I’m glad to finally be able to post this, this is for Spooky!Anon, and it was very fun to write! Truthfully, I didn’t touch Genshin for quite awhile, but this fic (along with the release of The Wanderer, but mostly this fic) did inspire me to finally get back into the swing of it Genshin Impact, research characters, along with regrow and light the spark of loving them once more! I truly had a blast with writing this and I never wrote for this pairing before so it was very intriguing! So I’m glad I got to write it and I really hope it was to your liking! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!)

(Warnings: Tickles, nothing else!)

(Prompt: [Tickly cuddles n chase scenarios (or suprise me!!)])

Today was a day like any other, a peaceful, yet beautiful day. Liyue was in the winter season, elegant white snow falling to the ground as a certain archon bard and an adepti were cuddling up with one another, Venti sleepily leaning on Xiao as the Yaksha stared out at the snow falling to the ground.

“Hmm.”

Venti perked up at the noise from Xiao. “Hm? Something wrong?” The bard asked with a yawn, finally somewhat waking up from his slumber.

“Mm-mm.. just watching the snow fall… it isn’t often we get it here in Liyue.” The adepti stated, and admittedly, the snow was pleasant to Xiao! So he surely wasn’t upset over that in the slightest. Nor was the cold too bothersome to him. Venti was quite warm after all.

However, Venti let out a small laugh. “Yeheah! I forgot that snow isn’t too common here compared to Mondstadt. You like eating the snow a lot too.” He grinned as the fellow anemo user whom he had blessed with the vision nodded his head. “It’s good. That’s all.”

“Well, perhaps you should come to Mondstadt more! Everything is super festive there, along with lots of snow! And I’d be your guide after all.” Venti playfully nudged the stone cold, straight faced Xiao a few times as he grumbled like the big grump he was.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that!” Venti giggled at the ‘tough guy’ who was refusing to smile. “Come on! Please?” Nothing. “I’ll be nice, I won’t even go into the tavern.” Nothing. “…I’ll get almond tofu?” A slight twitch at his lips, but alas, still nothing.

“Oh that’s it. Just know you asked for it!”

Just like that, Xiao felt a smile tugging at his lips upon feeling wiggling fingers at his sides, trying to squirm away from the tickles causing giggles to flow from his mouth. “Hehey!” He raised his voice, trying to be a little stand-off-like. To Venti, he simply found it to make his giggles louder and much more pleasing!

“Ehe! Hi!” The bard playfully greeted the Yaksha who kept squirming and giggling away. “Stohohop ihihit!” Xiao snickered before finally wiggling out of the archon’s grasp, quickly running to the edge balcony where he usually lurked, taking a leap from it and summoning his polearm, sharply deciding to lunge to the ground and did so with ease.

However this caused a mischievous chuckle from the bard, a grin appearing on his face as he dashed to the balcony, quickly using his wind to get to the ground fast yet break his fall, landing on his feet.

“Oho! C’mere Xiao! You’re being a grump and the tickle monster needs to tickle all the grumpiness out of you!”

Just like that, Venti began to rush towards Xiao, the polearm user’s hair puffing up and standing on its ends as he quickly stumbled to turn around since he was facing the bow user, then began to run away from Venti in a haste. And the chase began!

With the two anemo vision holders dashing through the snow, one of them, being Xiao, picked up some snow before throwing it at Venti who laughed in response. “Aww! Don’t be so mean now!” “Then stop chasing me!” And once again, a snowball was thrown at Venti as they ran.

However, a detail worth noting was the smile spreading across the darker of the two, the one who’s being chased, Xiao… admittedly, whether he liked it or not, he was having… fun! It felt silly and it reminded him of memories. Fond ones. Not that he’d admit he’s having fun, but this was making him much less grumpy and cold due to the playfulness.

But after a moment, due to thinking back on memories, Xiao snapped back to reality as Venti tackled him into the cold white snow, a small huff escaping the vigilant demon hunter. “Caught youuu!” “Don’t!” Xiao quickly spoke, causing the clever lyre player to grin. “Don’t what?”

“T-Tickle me!”

“Oh? Well of course!”

And with the yaksha’s failure to see the trick coming, he burst back into bunches of giggles from scribbling fingers on his ribs, wiggling side to side as the skilled fingers from the lyre player tickled away. “Kitchee Kitchee koo!” “Shuhush!” Xiao immediately became defensive, feeling a little bit of red creep onto his face from the tease.

The tough yet horribly ticklish demon slayer began to squirm around from the ticklish feeling. “Hehehey! Ohohoff! D-Dohohon’t be soho chihildish!” He demanded despite enjoying the silly nature of it, honestly… if this is what if this is like in more casual and enduring settings, he didn’t mind! It made the winter season somehow more joyful for him.

“Don’t be so mean now! That’s it! Now I have to use my secret weapon!” “Whahat secrehet— weAPOHOHON!? HEHEHEY! GEHhehet ohohout Of thEHERE!” Xiao shrieked out with his usual stand-off tone. Or rather ‘attempting’ since his laughter majorly sabotaged it, also attempting to bat and shove the bard’s hands out from underneath his shirt.

“Ehe. Why would I do that?” Venti played all innocent. “BEHEHECAUSE! YOHOUR HAhahaNDS AHAHahare cohold!”

“Oho! And here I thought you were so tough, now you can’t handle the cold. I don’t think that’s it… I think you can’t handle something else…” Venti suddenly stopped the tickly feeling that was causing the demon hunter to squirm and thrash around.

“Wh-Whahat?” Xiao giggled softly, clearly confused by the words coming from Venti, and just equally as confused by the fact he had stopped.

“Don’t be all silly… I think you, Xiao, an adepti, can’t handle how ticklish you are!”

Xiao would be lying if he said he didn’t get flustered and go slightly red.

Xiao also would be lying if he said he didn’t shriek upon feeling those ice cold hands underneath his shirt wiggle onto his stomach.

“So this is super ticklish for you?” Venti, obviously well aware of Xiao’s reaction, decided to play dumb to tease the squealy yaksha. The wind archon’s wiggling fingers traveling up and all around Xiao’s stomach, ‘clawing’ playfully at the sensitive spot as Xiao’s laughter became louder with the more time the skilled bard spent tickling him.

“VEHEHENTI!” Xiao finally called out, a squeal escaping him and causing his laugh to go up a octave.

“Yes, Sir Giggles?”

“I’M SOHOHORRY!”

Now that’s a surprising sight!

“Aww, for being a big grump?”

In any other case, Xiao would’ve glared and gave a snarky comment, but right now wasn’t much like any other case. But Xiao gave a quick nod to reply.

“Ahaww! Well, out of respect for anything left of your dignity, I’ll accept your apology, Grumps and Giggles!” Ah nicknames.

Honestly, Venti wasn’t sure he wanted to stop, Xiao wasn’t a laugher, a smiler, or anything like that! So to hear him laughing so freely and bubbly, a smile covering his face as he twitched around and squealed in ticklish joy was beyond enduring and lighthearted, and as much as he wanted to continue, he figured he’d gotten the grumpy mood out of the picture. Besides, there was still much more time in the day to tickle him… ahem.

But finally, the demon slaying yaksha was released from the tickle attack, a bunch of residue giggles escaping him begrudgingly, but if he was honest… he didn’t mind too much. He much rather think and deal with this and all the tickles and giggling that came with it than sulk.

“You alright?” The bard asked, also replied to by a giggly nod as Xiao slowly stood back to his feet alongside the man from Mondstadt. “Hmm… how about this, let’s go back, and we can make something like hot cocoa!”

“Hot… cocoa?”

The usually very defensive man questioned. “Never had that before?” Another silent reply, this time a shaking head to show he hadn’t. “Well! You’re in for a treat.” Venti claimed, gently scribbling and wiggling his fingers across Xiao’s sides; a burst of giggles escaping before the archon began to pull the polearm user behind him.

Apparently Barbatos decided not even 3 minutes after he had stopped was later in the day. But to him, it was worth it to hear that burst of bubbly and squeaky giggles from Xiao.

“Well come on, Grumps and Giggles!” Venti exclaimed as he allowed the winds to swoop them both up and lift them to the balcony.

Needless to say after they both surrounded themselves with blankets, Venti had made some hot cocoa for the two of them, allowing themselves to be warm and watch the snow fall once more with a lighthearted and joyful feeling that the holidays and winter brought.

“…Venti?” “Hm…?”

“…Thank you.”

A small giggle escaped the bard.

“Mhm… Just know you aren’t safe from the cold hands!”

Within moments, Xiao found himself laughing once more, kicking out with joyful sounds and noises.

“VEHEHE—!” Xiao fumbled out in ticklish glee, Venti with a grin on his face before Xiao’s hands began to gently scribble at a certain bard’s hips, causing a giggle filled with hiccups along with the bard’s hands stopping their ‘attack’ to retract and defend from the ticklish sensation. “WOHOHOAH! wahAHAIT! XIAHAHAO!” The archon squealed before the fellow man slowly flashed a smile, his hands quickly making work of Venti’s hips, causing laughter.

Needless to say this is going to be a eventful day of snow and giggles.

[lesbianoms]

Imagin', iffin' ya will, 's a brisk winer night in December, a festive time o' year. All wrapped up in ya' snug, warm clothes, maybe a nice sweater, some pajama pants, scarf if ya feelin', whatever ya' favourite "cozytime clothes" for an evenin' at home.

That's when ya' hear it, on ya' roof, rather clear at first, the impacts, like two feet(?) landin' on the shingles.

But after that? Slow. Quiet.

Creepin' quietly toward. . . the chimney. . .

A bluster o' winter-wind bounds outta' the fireplace, snuffin' the flame, 'long with any candles cozily lightin' the room, though fortunately, despite the dark, the nearest candle's on the table beside ya. It only takes a moment to light.

Just the moment.

That's all it took to creep silently onto ya' floor.

To rise, silently, up to her "feet".

You wouldn't've known before ya turned 'round to see her. . .

. . . were it not for that snort. That smug, teasin' puff o' her hot. Hungry breath that puffed past ya' from behind like steam.

A deep breath, seemin'ly, given the faint jinglin' that tinkled through the iron bells affixed to what sparse cloth she wore.

Behind ya, 'gainst ya' upper back, ya hear ('n feel) her belly, with a doughy sag o' gluttonous experience, growl, as low 'n as hungry as sin. A strong hand comes to rest upon ya' shoulder, skin warm 'n rugged in texture as well as hue, her fingers and claws long. The hand's match glides down 'long ya' arm, gently takin' ya by the wrist, raisin' ya' own hand tae study.

"Hmmmmnnn. . ." She seems to study ya, delicately turnin' over ya' hand, 'n, ya hear, drinkin' deep o' ya' scent. The latter seems intrigue her especially, given the deep, ravenously gurglin' songs her stomach starts singin'. Her voice is a low, growlin' purr, dusky and mature, 'n ya can practically hear her long, forked tongue lick her sharp teeth,

"Tell, me, m'dear; hasss sssomeone been a naughty girl, thisss year?"

🐮

🌕

(happy holidays!)

Oh, you spoil me~

This reads exactly like an old Christmas story, I love it…

Of the many ways to spend the holiday evening, being fondled and sniffed by a gluttonous she-Krampus sounds absolutely, incredibly amazing…

(Somewhat of a continuation below)

I stammered. Words didn’t exactly come out, though— they sounded more like the whimperings of some scared prey animal.

But given the circumstances, it seemed appropriate… I stiffened my back as the intruder pressed her belly even closer against me… its plush flab rumbled up the sides of my body, making me feel all tingly… tingly and frightened…

Her breath huffed low on the nape of my neck, washing over me in a chilling warmth. She licked her lips and spoke,

“Gonna need an ansssswer from ya, darlin’…”

Her grip on my shoulders tightened ever-so-slightly, and I let out a small gasp of fear. I flinched in her grip. Her bells jingled as she held me fast in place, pressing me back up against that soft, plush, yet ominous gut of hers. I heard a particularly loud grumble from within.

“I- I don’t know,” I said quickly.

In my voice, I tried to hide the fact that I was a bit flustered. Despite the danger of the situation, there was something exciting about feeling her belly right on me— that fleshy orb growling low and meaty… and murmuring sweet nothings into my ear…

Her hot breath eased in closer, closer to the side of my face. I heard a hiss lacing her words as she went on.

“Ya don’t know then, mm? Are you abssolutely sssure ‘bout it, m’dear?”

I squeaked in surprise as her rough hand traced the underside of my jaw. Gently but firmly scratching me on the chin, like a pet. Like livestock. I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

“Mhm,” I replied shakily.

The intruder huffed out a deep chuckle.

“Turn ‘round and look at me, darlin’… let me sssee that pretty face o’ yoursss…”

I turned and held my breath, eyes widening as I saw just what I was face-to-face with. A tall, hulking she-beast, barely wearing any clothing at all, with horns and hooves and rough, claw-like hands. Her tongue dripped saliva as it snaked out from between her fanged maw. She stared down at me with piercing yellow eyes.

Just below all that, she sported a hefty and doughy gut. It groaned and grumbled so much that the sound was almost hypnotizing to me, like a siren song calling… her belly rolled right over her waistline, and as she pressed me against it and looked down me, I felt the bottom half of my face sink into the pudge.

I stared up with wide, terrified eyes.

“I’m visssitin’ ya for a reassson tonight,” she hissed. “Everyone will either be naughty or nice this time o’ year… that ol’ jolly, bearded man getss th’ nice girlsss…”

Her stomach roared at me; I felt it shake through my entire body.

“And I get th’ naughty onesss…”

“What did I do?!” I shouted, struggling against her ironclad grip.

“A lil’ birdie told me ya got a fondnesss for th’ naughty… all those thoughtsss o’ ssin up in yer head…”

Fuck. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

“And o’course, asss iss tradition, naughty girlsss get th’ gut…”

She pulled away from me slightly, but only so she could crane her neck low and trace her slippery tongue across my face. I whimpered as she tasted me.

A hissing laugh. “You like that, don’t ya sssweetie…?”

Her big belly sloshed to the side as she crouched down low, squishing onto the floor with a whining groan. I watched— a confusing rush of desire and fear taking me over— as she opened her mouth wide and rolled out her tongue to me like a velvet carpet.

“Lassst chance t’ redeem yersself, hm? Be a good girl an’ climb inssside… morsssels like you belong ssnuggled up in m’belly… 🖤”

I took a shaky, deep breath, as I marched forward with a sudden burst of courage. It was short lived, however, as I found myself shaking the moment I stepped onto her slimy tongue. I looked up at my captor. She just watched me with patient eyes, drooling… and so I took the other steps into her large, gaping maw…

She swallowed me, gulping heavy, quickly. Her throat had years of experience in capturing and getting down prey…

I moaned and wiggled as I filled up her round belly. The inside of her gut was a slimy sac; it was a bit more spacious than I thought it would be, but as I squirmed I felt the walls rumble and begin to churn. Acids and juices washed over me in waves, tingling my body in pleasurable and sticky sensations. I moaned as I felt her stand back up. Her belly sloshed and tumbled me into the squishy walls that hugged me tightly. There was an aching in my crotch.

I didn’t really want to admit it, but…

“Good girl… goooood morsssel… I can feel ya gettin’ all hot n’ bothered in there…”

Ohh. I guess I didn’t need to admit it.

I wiggled around and curled up in her belly as she gave the stuffed organ a hearty pat. A big, monstrous belch exited from her maw and I felt the stomach squeeze me as she sighed in satisfaction.

“Cute, whimperin’ thing… you’ll be out by new yearss, fully reformed… until then, besst sssettle in for a long n’ gurgly digessstion…”

She burped again and patted my form, hissing in delight at my struggles. She stomped back over to the chimney, ready to squeeze back in and up onto the roof, to return into the cold winter night with her catch.

“Maybe you’ll learn a thing r’ two, bein’ ol’ Krampusss’ss belly fat for a while…”

I sighed, feeling my set of Christmas pjs already beginning to melt off. Mmm, seems like I’d had a Merry Christmas indeed… <3

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Seventeen

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Karl remained uncharacteristically gentle in the shower.  At one point, Ethan opened his eyes, blinking away water, to see the engineer staring at him with deep sadness.  And though Ethan inquired, Karl said nothing, withdrawing into the lonely place he seemed to inhabit when not being physical.  Or teasing.  Or repairing something.  

When he lay his damp head of curls on Ethan’s chest, after they’d climbed back into bed, Karl seemed to hold the other a bit more tightly than usual.  This surprised the father, who was content to stroke the strands of hair and feel the radiant warmth of the body on top of him.  He wondered what Karl was thinking about, and considered entering his mind.  Just as abruptly as the thought entered, Ethan was horrified at his own disregard for privacy, and began mentally berating himself for it.  Never a thought.  Ever again.  

But then, he’d done it before, hadn’t he? Listened in with his heightened sense of hearing.  Gotten jealous over the conversation Karl had with Ada, and then angry at another hushed exchange, when the Duke and Heisenberg had discussed Karl’s “health” problem–namely, the nature of the cadou to cause him to lose his humanity.  

Ethan’s hands hovered, pausing on the satin hair.  

“Karl.” 

“Mm.” 

“Did you…” Ethan frowned.  “Have you done your uh…the procedure? Since the other time you did it.”  Just before the festival in June.  Months earlier.  

“No.” 

“Are you feeling…” Murdery? Carnivorous? “...the way it makes you feel?”

“Not really.” 

“Are you controlling it?  How is it getting better and not worse?” 

Karl shrugged.  

Ethan’s stomach dropped.  Had something happened?  Was Karl’s cadou…damaged?  Was it not healing as rapidly as before?  Did the Mold being ‘void’ of a Queen affect him too?  Or maybe, it was removing whatever part of him Miranda had used to make him–was that what Eva had said? Ethan’s mind began its spiral, and after a few minutes of quiet, he heard the shallow locomotive breaths of the engineer.  He was dead weight on Ethan.  

The blond wove his fingers through Karl’s curls again, resting his lips and chin on the mop of hair, staring at the embers of the fire.  Apparently being the one doing all the fucking didn’t make Ethan any more sleepy…but he’d always been this way.  Karl seemed to get his anxieties out through physical intimacy, but Ethan shut down during intimacy and then stayed anxious after.  This wasn’t specific to Karl, but Ethan noted that even this seemed to be getting worse, remembering how he’d almost blacked out earlier.  

What was happening?  To him, to both of them? 

When Ethan stubbornly closed his eyes, intent on sleeping, he saw a strange vision.  Inky black, and a gold bowl.  It spun, revealing intricate details.  As Ethan watched, the familiar dish turned upright.  From the blackness came the flow…blood? No.  Wine splashed into it.  Godric’s Patera.  

Ethan heard his heartbeat thrumming suddenly…or was that drums?  War drums, a solemn, layered beat.  That wasn’t his heart.  Neither was the whispering chants that accompanied this new sound.  There were so many of them–were these the voices of the consciousness?  They only ever answered questions, and even then, maybe half the time he asked.  They could whisper a tune? 

He didn’t understand anything.  Ethan felt a strange trepidation about the bowl, which now moved closer to him, a disembodied hand-no, set of hands-holding it out.  One masculine, one feminine.  

Find me. 

It wasn’t Godric’s voice.  It was the whispers around Ethan.  He wondered suddenly if he could open his eyes and go back to his bedroom, back to holding Karl.  But Ethan wanted answers.  Several answers, actually.  The ominous, looming bowl tipped, splashing wine, and he extended his hand.  

Though he could see nothing, the blond felt the cold plate slip into his grasp just as he tipped forward into blackness that smelled like wine.  

—-----------

He tipped upside down again.  The patera completely disappeared from his view. For several confused seconds Ethan wondered if he would get lost in the void.  It seemed so far away from reality, so removed from even the Mold’s layers, wherever Godric sat.  And yet he was able to right himself, fight the strange, thick sticky blackness around him, and stumble with heavy feet toward a single doorway.  

When Ethan pushed the doors of the church open, he was relieved to see the same disjointed, blurry borders of darkness, and the throne at the pulpit.  Godric sat in it, looking pensieve, but the man brightened, standing slowly, as if he couldn’t be sure Ethan wasn’t a mirage. 

The blond wondered why the behemoth of a man was grinning so widely, and then he remembered the clothes he was wearing; pajama pants he’d donned after the shower.  Right.  Ethan rolled his eyes inwardly at himself and stepped forward anyway. 

“Ethan.” 

“Godric.”  The blond felt ridiculous, but he also couldn’t help but smile. Now Godric motioned to the bench seat, one of the former pews.  Ethan’s legs were still heavy, but he forced himself to walk, moving until he was in the surprisingly tender embrace of the taller man.  Godric hugged Ethan as if he were a tiny teddy bear, squeezing him and nearly lifting him from the ground.  He sniffed Ethan’s hair, and said something in his own language.  The stare he gave the blond was curious, and yet…skeptical? 

“You changed,” Godric decided seriously.  Then he steered Ethan to the wooden seat, nearly pushing the blond down with a large hand clapping Ethan’s shoulder–well, add that to the list of things he’d passed down to his descendent.  

Once Ethan was sat-firmly-on the bench, Godric swooped down next to him, openly admiring the other’s bare chest before gesturing at his own robe.  Ethan shook his head.  He was still trying to get accustomed to the other’s huge presence, let alone the very intense eye contact, when the King’s face broke into a wide grin and he gestured to himself.  

“Read me.” 

Ethan was perplexed, but then recalled how images from his own memory had flickered in his mind’s eye when Godric stared at him.  He had no idea how to do what the other asked, but he allowed his gaze to move to the other man’s, and he focused, staring intently.  At first, he felt vulnerable, as if he were staring down a Rottweiler, but then Ethan heard the same drum beats as before.  

Some kind of war.  A battle.  He could see it clearly, smell the smoke in the field.  A hulking man mowing down enemies.  Drinking from his bowl.  A ceremony.  Papers signed.  A meadow with dark shadows-galloping horses? And more wine.  Another man, whispering in the dark.  The smell of a pipe.  Shouting, anger.  More paperwork being signed.  Gems glittering in dark water. 

Ethan was feeling emotions, as well; a similar sensation as when the Bakers had accidentally forced their pain onto him.  Pain loomed at the corners of every cell in his body, overwhelming emotions that he could not stand.  The blond pulled away from the deep well, and he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.  “Close your eyes, they go away.” 

He did as he was told.  The images disappeared.  When Ethan opened his eyes, his expression was curious.  “Your English sure got better.” 

Godric smiled mischievously.  “I have the time to learn.  And now, the reason.” 

Ethan’s usually troubled glare lifted at this and he gave a half smile.  Godric moved his hand from Ethan’s shoulder, but kept it draped near him.  His entire body faced the blond��s and even with such formal gestures, the man seemed to radiate cozy.  Ethan wouldn’t have been surprised if he had a pair of slippers and a snuggling robe.  

Putting the intrusive, but hilarious, image from his mind, he asked, “Did you…want me to come here?”

“Always,” said the other, but he nodded in affirmation.  “I sent word.” 

He frowned.  “You feel so worried.  I want to help.”  

“I…” Ethan wanted to be flattered, but he was still too nervous around the other.  Despite the large man’s very obvious attempt at putting him at ease, he was simply intense, intimidating.  “I…need your help, I think,” Ethan said sheepishly, not knowing what else to say.  Changing the conversation was safer than asking, “Why were you feeling me?” 

Probably.  

“How can I help?”

“Is there another way to save the Mutamycete without Eva going back into the Mold?”  Well, he’d blurted that right out.  Godric didn’t even blink though.  He tilted his head, drumming his fingers on the wood behind Ethan’s back.  He stroked his impressive beard, and Ethan was staring.  Quickly the blond looked away.  

“Can be another,” Godric said with a squint.  “The mind is accepting of many.” 

“Does it have to be ah…uh…a woman, I guess?”

Godric’s squint increased.  “Motherly spirit.” 

“I see.”  Ethan frowned.  He’d considered taking Eva’s place for a moment–a rather wild, suicidal idea, possibly–but Ethan didn’t have much of a motherly spirit.  “If we don’t?”

“It will all slowly go away,” Godric nodded, his pleasant attitude turning solemn.  “Wasn’t always so hard.  This is because of her.” 

Ethan made a disgusted noise.  Did he want the Mold to go away?  A few months ago, he would have said sure.  Every waking fucking moment after Dulvey, absolutely.  But now, he didn’t know exactly what that would entail for his future or his daughter’s. If he could just wipe Miranda from the board, they would have years to figure it out.  If they could survive without the Mold (likely, as he already had been, after defeating Eveline) and how to ensure their safety.  

If that moment ever came, he would probably need Chris’s help.  And Ada’s, more likely.  But they had to buy time until Miranda was no longer a thorn in their side.  He licked his lips, figuring he might as well interview the other while he was stuck down here in…wherever this was.  Godric’s eyes were finally unglued from Ethan’s chest and he now plucked at the gossamers of blond hair.  “So light!” 

The blond didn’t even respond to this.  

“Do you know about Karl’s…the ... crystal Miranda used on the Lords? Do you know how to take that safely out of their bodies?  I know Karl already has, but…for the other Lords.  I want…” Ethan was speaking too quickly, tripping over his words.  “I want to be able to save Karl’s consciousness. I can’t let anything happen to him.  I can’t lose him.”  Ethan’s frown deepened, which looked less impactful with his hair sticking straight up thanks to Godric’s plucking at it.  “I WON’T lose him.”  

Godric paused in stroking Ethan’s hair to put his hand over his heart, showing that this touched him.  With a sweet smile, he batted his eyelashes at Ethan, and then nodded slowly.  Ethan leaned forward eagerly, waiting to hear the wonderful news.  There was a way then.  This could work.  He would just….fix it all.  Fix Donna.  But more importantly, fix Karl.  Forever.  His eyebrows lifted, the troubled look dissipating.  It was all worth it to hear whatever the handsome King would say.  

“Awaken the Fish Man.” 

Ethan’s face immediately fell, and his skeptical, unimpressed glare was so palpable that Godric burst into laughter.  

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

“No!”  Godric chuckled, but was no better at holding his laughter in than his great-however-many nephew, or whatever the hell Karl was.  He choked, put a fist over his lips, chuckled again.  

“You mean Moreau, right?”

“Yes.”

Ethan sighed and rubbed his temple.  Well, technically, they were going to have to drag his disgusting soul out of its mold cocoon anyway, weren’t they?  The Duke would probably have a field day with this one too.  Ethan’s loud, “Uggghhhh,” went ignored by Godric, who tilted his head quizzically. 

“The Duke?”

“Yeah,” Ethan answered, dropping his hand.  “Merchant, big…very big, he’s a–wait.  YOU know the Duke?  How is that possible?”

“He is a very good friend.  For all of us,” Godric said in the closest thing to a solemn voice he’d ever used.  

Ethan wanted to ask more, but as it usually was, the Duke’s almost mystical presence seemed impossible to grasp.  More questions would probably just lead to more questions.  And he had another, unrelated question in mind already.  

He pointed to his own eyes.  “Earlier, my eyes…went black.  I think more than once.  And my lips, and hands…did this thing.  I…” When Ethan faltered, trying to explain the strange occurrence in the bedroom, he suddenly saw himself in the mirror again.  He realized Godric was looking into his memories.  The other ran a hand across his mustache stoically as the vision played for them both.  Ethan’s shocked look, the way his lips were grey and his eyes completely dark.  Veins, jet black, snaking away from his eyes and down his face while he stared in the mirror.  

And then, Ethan saw himself on top of Karl, felt himself moving into the other man.  He saw his own blackened eyes, saw Karl’s hand on his cheek.  He heard the soft voice.  Eethun. 

“Hey, no, not that-!” 

Godric wagged his eyebrows, and Ethan laughed anyway.  Well, not like he wasn’t sitting here in his goddamned pajamas in an ancient building, in probably the deepest remaining layer of mold consciousness, basically interrogating the man about everything he could think of.  

They both laughed together, before Godric went back to fluffing his hair.  The gentle smile faded to something of a contemplative stare as he attempted to explain, “I said, you changed.  You stepped into the lake.  Changed you.” 

“The…that dead place that Miranda made?”

“Yes.” 

“You know that place?  What do you mean changed?”  

“You will be more like her.  Wading in the water.  It is full of her….you…” The King’s gestures were so like Heisenberg’s.  “Absorb.” 

“Great.  So I am gonna turn evil?” Ethan said, stumbling over the last word.  It was the only word he could think of to describe Miranda. 

But Godric shook his fluffy head confidently.  “Not evil.  Mmm…Dark.  Desperate.  Not just absorb.  You walk the same path as her.  You are now trying to cheat death.” 

Was he?  Ethan squinted.  He was intent on saving Karl, sparing Eva, protecting Rose.  Hell, he was now even trying to consider how to extract Miranda’s remnants from Donna to spare her, even though she deserved at the very least the world’s longest time out for that basement shit she pulled.  Well, fuck.  

He was trying to keep everyone alive…was that the same as cheating death?

“How do I make sure I don’t end up like her then?”

Godric twirled a blond strand and smiled in an almost sad way.  “You will not.” 

Ethan exhaled.  He knew he shouldn’t have stepped into that goddamn water.  Oh well.  A part of him didn’t mind becoming dark, if that’s what it took.  Then that’s what it’d take.  He’d already blown the village into smithereens.  Murdered quite a few once-people.  And attempted to murder Miranda, at the cost of his own moldy body.  

Godric leaned in and whispered, his thick accent clipping near Ethan’s ear.  “He likes you dark.” 

Karl?  Ethan blushed furiously and stuttered as Godric chuckled.  The King winked.  “So do I.” 

He had to be fuschia by now, he was blushing so hard.  “I just don’t want to be like her, that’s all,” Ethan managed.  

“Then you must learn grief.” 

Ethan was dumbstruck at this; his mouth moved, but he had no words.  He did not dare to say what was in his mind.  That he couldn’t.  He never had been able to.  To grieve, cry?  The closest he’d come was earlier in the garden, with Karl, after learning everything he’d done for Rosemary was essentially in vain.  It had taken Karl hunting down the girl and bringing her back to the place of death to even begin to right the wrongs from the BSAA, from Miranda, from everyone and everything that would treat them like experiments.  Like the bioweapons that they were.  

Eveline had never learned to grieve either, he supposed, and that hadn’t gone well for her.  But then who did know how to properly handle grief?  

The worried, terrified look that crossed Ethan’s face must have said a lot, because Godric shrugged and answered, “You learn it with anger, and then love.  Not darkness-then.”  He tutted, wagging a finger as if to say, then you’ll be Miranda all over again.  

“You run from sorrow, sorrow will find you.” 

Sorrow will find you. 

Ethan swallowed.  When he managed to look again at the hulking King, Godric gave another knowing, sad smile, and raised his thick eyebrows.  

“You should go.  Harder to leave, longer stay.” 

He clasped Ethan’s hand.  But just as they stirred, the blond paused.  “I have one more question.  Rose.” 

“Yes.” 

“She’s….she knows how to jump around in the mold.”  Godric was already nodding.  “It’s terrifying to me.  She…what if she runs into Miranda?  Gets lost?  How dangerous is it?”

“Not dangerous, for her,” he said proudly.  “She can not be touched.  Rest easy.”  

Finally, Ethan had an answer that filled him with relief, instead of further anxiety or uncertainty.  That was something.  And it was for Rose, the most important person in his life.  He stood with more vigor than he’d had moments ago.  

He didn’t even realize it until now, but Godric was still holding his hand.  Ethan put his other hand on top of the dark-skinned, gigantic fingers.  “I’ll come back soon.  You’ve…you’re amazing.  Thank you for everything.”  Ethan got the keen sense that Godric was sad, even devastated, that their time was coming to an end.  A crushing loneliness sat at the back of the kindhearted, warm energy that radiated from him.  

Ethan gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  “And the next time I see you, I want to talk about you.  I want to know about you.” 

At this Godric turned positively giddy, and pushed Ethan playfully toward the door, which was nearly covered in dripping, oozing blackness.  Void. 

“Yes?” Ethan pushed, enjoying the teasing now that he’d rendered the other speechless, still trying to cheer the man up.  

“Yes,” Godric answered, and leaned down for another very intimate, yet formal-feeling, kiss on the cheek.  Then he turned away as Ethan stepped backward into the doorway, immediately losing his footing and falling for stories.  

In time he righted; but was still falling…floating? Was he being pulled upward?  Ethan felt as if he were caught in a current.  A new sensation.  Was he not going home?  Home, home.  He chanted in his head, but nothing appeared. 

The familiar blackness blinked, flickered, and Ethan stood in an even more familiar place.  A place that smelled like hot cement and humidity, where red emergency lights teased the scene.  The factory. 

Karl stood in front of him.  Not Karl.  Who was this?  

That’s silly.  The man was Karl, Ethan was sure of it.  Karl’s hair, Karl’s face, Karl’s body, Karl’s gait. But he was dressed differently, in a simple linen top and grimy work pants.  No coat, no elaborate disguise, no jewelry.  His eyes were different–green.  Ethan realized the main reason that he looked different, and he was suddenly stricken with an unexplainable fear.  

This man was clean shaven and had no scars.  

This was not Karl.  

Not-Karl’s unscarred lips twisted into a smile as he approached Ethan, his boots clattering over the safety grate they stood on.  He whispered, his accent nothing at all like Karl’s.  

“She’s coming.”  His ‘sh’ was a ‘z’, his ‘ing’ an ‘inh.’  It was a thick German accent, Ethan decided, and he backed away, but his bare skin touched a hot concrete wall.  Well fuck. 

“Who’s coming?” 

The man rushed him, and too late, Ethan realized he held something in his left hand.  He grasped Ethan’s shoulder, pulling himself by Ethan’s ear.  The thick, familiar and buttery notes of Karl’s voice were there, it was so close, but the accent was entirely different.  

“Don’t let her use your past.  Don’t cave.”  This was nearly whispered, spoken so quickly it was a frenzied slur of broken consonants, and Ethan’s eyes widened as he attempted to stare at the speaker.  Then he felt a lightning bolt go through his right side and Ethan cried out in terror–the Karl-like figure had fucking stabbed him.  With a sinister smile, the brunette pushed Ethan even harder against the wall, and it fell away abruptly. 

Home, home home. HOME.

The blackness disappeared, and Ethan clapped a hand to his wound, crying out in pain again as he felt the gush of blood past his fingers.  

[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 25: For Good Luck | Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

A/N: Forgot to post this on here like a month ago oopsies

Word Count: ~3.1k Summary: Viktor gambles with you in more ways than one and you meet some interesting folks at the tavern Tags: drinking, swearing, gambling, smoking, the usual Last Chpt: Date Night Pt 2 Sinking Ship

// 🎧 Mood Music: Sinners by Barns Courtney 🎧 \\

Check my pinned post for more details/previous chapters/etc.

The main floor of the inn is a tavern, flooded with faces you’ve never seen before that barely pay you any mind despite your still damp attire.

The bar is packed with people and you squeeze behind Viktor while he asks the innkeeper about room availability. You take in your surroundings and notice a pair getting heated over a game of darts, tables of people playing card and dice games, stew and baked bread being served to travelers that looked even more weary than you, and a woman eyeing Viktor fondly off to the side as you hear him say “Is there a chance one might become available?”

Shit. The place must be full up.

You watch as Viktor must’ve felt eyes on him, turning to see the woman smiling at him before he looks back to you. The small lift of his brows serving as a sign that he wasn’t expecting you to be so tightly packed in with him. Still, he smiles softly as he takes you in—seeming comfortable with the closer proximity as he speaks.

“How many cogs do you have?”

“They have rooms?” You ask as you dig in your holster, brandishing a few silver coins from the cutpurse earlier on. You thought you had more, but they must’ve fallen out in the river…along with your pride.

“Room.” He clarifies as he pulls out his own coins and holds his hand out to take yours. “The most expensive one—this whole side of the city has no vacancy. Apparently, there’s some festival going on tomorrow.”

“…So, I don’t get that cheap room after all?”

Viktor grins slyly, holding back a laugh as he shuffles through the combined cogs in his hand. “Disappointing, I know.”

His teasing makes you grin back as you watch him count the amount, his mouth moving silently along as he does. “But for what it’s worth, I do enjoy festivals.” He adds in between his mental math.

“I do too, I don’t get to go very often.” You admit before glancing out the window. Frost glistens at the corners and judging by the haze in the lights it looks like it might start to snow soon. “I bet it’s for the winter season coming up.”

“If you’re not an icicle by morning maybe we can catch it.” He glances up and winks playfully, making you smile ear to ear until he finishes counting with a disgruntled hum.

“We’re ten shy…any ideas?”

The sounds of the tavern call your attention as you scan the room. The buzz of bar talk and laughter rings in your ears as you see a couple tables with coin laid down as they play cards. “Huh. Doesn’t look like these bar games are just for fun.”

Viktor nods steadily as he follows your gaze and your thought process. “Mm…gambling?”

“Looks that way.” You watch as he tilts his head, considering that reality. “See anything you think you would win?”

Dexterous fingers divvy up the cogs in hand while he peers around the tables, pausing at one in particular with both cards and a wooden board riddled with holes. Eyes light up with arched brows as he nods. “Yes, I believe so…what about you?”

If the book club has taught you anything it’s that bar flies can and will kick your ass at cards. Your focus falls back to the dart board, only hesitating when you look at your bruised knuckle—a slight tremble still afflicting your dominant hand. “Maybe…”

Viktor watches your gaze travel from the board to your hand, biting his lip as the gears turn in his head.

You keep focus on the two throwing darts, trying to listen in on what they’re so heated about. The noise of the crowd drowns out most of their conversation, but it sounds like they can’t find one of their friends. When you turn back you find Viktor staring at the small scar on your cheek.

Had he not noticed it yet? Peculiar thought, considering he ran his thumb across it in the boat. Curiosity gets the best of you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

A quick shake of his head brushes off whatever he was thinking about before he hands over your half of the cogs.

“I’m afraid you can’t afford that right now.”

Eyes wide and mouth agape, you cough out a laugh at his audacity. While he wasn’t completely wrong, his sense of humor easily catches you by surprise. Almost as much as his words of encouragement.

“But something tells me that you have a knack for getting what you want.” Whiskey eyes begin to drink you up and down playfully.

“Thaaat only happens when my luck isn’t dying a slow, agonizing death.” It’s a pitiful thought considering how unfortunately said luck as played out so far tonight.

“Ah, well in that case…” It all happens so quickly that you barely have time to process, let alone react to what’s happening.

As Viktor moves to step past you, he pushes his weight into his cane to turn and place his hand on your shoulder, eyes scanning your reaction while he holds you gently in place. Your heart jumps in your chest, unsure of what he’s doing but choosing to just trust him.

So, you stay still for him.

You catch the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth when he realizes what you’re doing and leans forward until you feel his lips press lightly against your cheek—kissing the faded scar where fletching from your arrow carved into you years ago. Heat rises to where his lips touch your skin and lingers even after he pulls away. With a crooked smile, he finishes his sentence before turning to make his way to the cribbage table.

“For good luck, of course.”

All you can manage is a dumbstruck expression as Viktor walks away—talking up the table to see if he can join the next game. You can distinguish his voice among the others, smooth and charming as always and aren’t surprised in the slightest when they offer him a chair.

You have to bite back the goofy grin trying to creep its way onto your lips as you walk towards the dart board. A new felt confidence rising within as you press now steady fingers to your cheek, whispering to no one.

“Of course…”

Maybe it’s the fact that your clothes were still damp. Maybe it’s because this group was already on edge. Or maybe you just simply aren’t as charismatic as Viktor, but joining the dart game was damn near impossible.

“We’re playing pairs, don’t have room for another.” A short man with dark hair tied up explains as the other eyes your clothes in disdain. At first glance the two men seem pretty ordinary, not wearing anything particularly eye-catching until you see their shoes.

Shiny buckles, polished leather without wear or tear, barely even a scuff on the soles.

Perfect, they’re topsiders.

Which means they’re loaded.

You notice the scorecard on the table next to them and see initials listed ‘DV | JT | JF’, cocking your brow with a grin when they see you catch them up in a lie about how many are in their group.

“If you’re scared of losing you just have to say so.” You tease at their egos, knowing it’ll only make it easier to get in on a game and win some coin as long as your hand behaves.

“Like hell, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer.”

The shorter man chimes in after his friend. “Can you even afford a wager?”

You hold out half the cogs that you have before tucking them back into your holster, grateful that their cocky expressions died down at least a little bit as you answer.

“Yeah. I think I can manage. Can you?”

“Don’t insult us.” The man with his hair in a ponytail holds out his share, the other follows showing his bet as well.

“Good, sounds like we have a game.” You glance at the scorecard again then back up. “So, where’s your third? Are they in?”

“We don’t know where the hell he ran off t—”

“Sorry!” A voice comes up from behind you, slightly out of breath as his steps hurry towards the group. “I found a pawn shop at the night market—couldn’t resist.”

Your attention shifts to the man coming up behind you. He’s a bit taller than you, clean-cut with dark hair and muscles that line his entire frame. The definition of a ‘pretty boy’ with a perfect pearly-white smile to match.

“Cigars. You had one job—pick up some cigars.”

Your ears perk up as you watch the newcomer set a wooden box down on the table, Remy’s seal holding the lid securely until they tear it open. The scent of tobacco mixed with molasses and clove fills the air and you recognize the blend immediately.

“Went with the Slow Burn collection, huh?”

All three sets of eyes are fixed on you, but your focus is on the one who brought the box. It looks like the first time he even realizes you’re there, looking to his friends in confusion then back to you.

“Yeah…the person at the cart said this R&R’s place is the best tobacconist in the undercity.”

“Oh, good to know.” You play with fire and attempt to figure out where the hell you are. “Where’s this ‘R&R’ place at?”

“The merchant said it’s about 4 miles up the ro—sorry, who are you?”

Fuck. That’s…not close, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

“Oh sorry, I was just asking your friends if you’d be interested in a game?” Your eyes flit to the dart board then back. “Maybe throw some coin down—make it a little interesting?”

He glances at the other two. Ponytail shrugs while the other glares you down until he searches through the box. “Did you get a straight cutter? A light?”

The silence that follows the question has you rummaging in your holster as you anticipate pretty boy’s disappointing answer.

“I—no…I’ve never smoked before! I didn’t even think about—”

You interrupt with a shake of the waterproof matchbox you snagged from the boat; gods rest its soul. All eyes on you again until the one with the long hair speaks up. “Do you have a cutter too?”

“No, but if you give me one of those cigars, I’ll show you how to smoke without one.”

Did you need to take one of their cigars?

No.

But telling yourself that it’ll take the chill out of your bones was helping you feel less guilty about practically stealing a cigar from these poor Pilties. Can’t throw darts if you’re shivering, can you?

Course not.

“Can’t you just bite the tip off?” Between the wording of that sentence and the shorter man’s furrowed brows, it takes all the power in your being not to laugh. Must be the first time any of them have tried cigars.

“Uhh cap, not tip.” You start with a grimace. “And sure, if you want to fuck it up and have a shit smoke.” You shrug nonchalantly. “I’d do that with cheaper cigars though, not those.”

Although the two men you initially met seem put off by your deal, the pretty one is eagerly handing over one of his…well, your cigars to show him what to do.

“You got something that can create a puncture?” You ask before watching the stranger’s face light up, flashing a small gap in his toothy grin.

“Sure do.” He digs through a rucksack before holding out a miniature screwdriver. “Just got it from that pawn shop I was talking about.” As if to redeem himself for forgetting a cutter, the man shoots a glare over to the others before handing it over.

Vibrations trickle into your fingertips as you reach to take the tool from him. You hesitate as the veins that map your hands feel like they’re burning up and glance over to find curious eyes weighing on you. You shake off the sensation and grab the screwdriver to show the class how to puncture the cap…not tip.

It’s going to take a lot of effort and therapy to unhear ‘bite the tip off’.

“I’m assuming Dimitri and Fisher didn’t volunteer to be your partner.” The man asks, his eyes studying your movements and committing them to memory for next time.

Another glance to the scorecard then back to your task at hand has you putting the pieces together.

‘DV and JF—Dimitri and Fisher, that’s their names. Which just leaves JT…’

“That would be an accurate assumption.” You light up your cigar, the ‘J’ guy watching and learning until you pass the screwdriver and matches over to him. “From the looks of that scorecard though that’s not a bad thing.”

He laughs loudly at your insult and starts to puncture and light his own cigar. “Then it looks like we’re partners. I’m Jayce.”

Before he pulls the match away you instinctively reach out to stop him. “Wait ‘til the entire end is lit.” You put two fingers on his wrist to hold it there longer and feel a low, familiar buzz of energy shoot through your fingers, causing you to pull back immediately.

Jayce looks down as you pull your hand back and you speak up quickly. “Sorry, weird static…shock.” You try to explain away. Even if it’s not at all what that felt like. “Uh my name’s—I’m…” You hesitate to use your real name, not trusting strangers from topside with it. “Gray.”

…Can’t get more anonymous than that.

The raw energy running through your hands was baffling. You hadn’t felt this much power since you had a crystal set in your bow years ago. Despite the amount of time that had passed, you recognized the sensation like it was yesterday…but why now?

You glance over to find Viktor hard at work on the cribbage board—making small talk and fitting in well with his table. His peck on your cheek still stirred up warmth in your stomach…could that trigger this sort of reaction from you?

It seemed unlikely…but at the same time you’ve never really felt this way about anyone before.

“Alright, what’re we playing?” Dimitri interrupts your thoughts and Jayce is quick to answer.

“How about ‘Gotcha’?” He turns to check in with you. “You ever played?”

“Yeah—first to 301. Try and match your opponent’s score on the way up to put them back at zero.” You smirk when Dimitri and Fisher lay their coins on the table, adding your own with a quick glance to your new partner. “Let’s take your friends’ money.”

Jayce proved to be a lot of things tonight. A terrible smoker who needed to spit every few minutes from not being used to the sensation. A decent man who never once asked why you smelled like a kraken’s ass (if they even have one?) And a formidable dart player that made you wonder if he was an archer like you too.

The two of you had the best game you could account for. You weren’t sure why your abilities had popped up and stuck around for as long as they had, but you were able to keep your hand steady and zero in on each and every shot, making quick work of getting your share of coins for the night.

“You up for another one?” Jayce seems to be having fun with you. As much as you enjoyed his company, trusting topsiders was not on your agenda tonight.

“I try not to feed my gambling habits when I’m ahead.” You lie with a small chuckle. “But thanks for playing, it was a good game.”

“Really good. We make a decent team.” He holds his hand out for you to shake before finishing his thought. “Maybe our paths will cross again.”

You can’t help but smile at his wholesome grin, offering your hand out as well. “Maybe.” When you make contact, it feels like the air got knocked out of you, immediately causing your muscles to tense and the hair to stand up on the back of your neck.

You look down and narrow your eyes at his hand, trying to find the source of what keeps sending surges through you. “What the fuck is happen—” You cut your sentence off when you see he’s wearing a bracelet, a small blue crystal set into the leather.

A near twin to the one that was faceted in your bow.

And an explanation for what’s causing your magic to go haywire tonight.

You instinctively flip his hand over to get a better look, feeling him resist only slightly as you flick your gaze back up to him. “Where did you get this?”

He pulls his hand away and eyes you up and down defensively. “Why do you care?”

Fisher and Dimitri look completely lost at this entire exchange. You study Jayce’s expression further, unsure if he understands what he has attached to his wrist.

“My sister collects rocks—her birthday was yesterday and she would love it.” You shrug with a grin and pull out all of the cogs in your holster. “I’ll play you for it.”

The two men go wide-eyed at your wager, then back to Jayce. Half of your bet was a bluff. If he was as clueless as the others, he would take the wager in a heartbeat.

But if he did know what it was…

“No. I think I’m done for the night.”

Then that’s exactly what he would say.

As if Syd herself manifested in your mind, you push the topic and call out his inconsistencies.

“But you just said you were in for another?”

“Yeah, but you’re right. Better to stop while I’m ahead.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I—just. I—"

“Jayce, take the bet.” Fisher looks appalled at his friend’s resistance to playing for the absurd number of coins you’re offering. “It’s a rock man, they’re all over the place. I’ll get you another one.”

You see your partner subtly shake his head, a silent ‘No, you won’t’ that you could respect completely. You’re not sure why he has a crystal, he doesn’t seem to be a mage—if he is he has to be a worse one than you. But he recognizes the value of it at least.

You nod, reluctantly giving up the game to respect his wishes.

“I understand.” You hold eye contact with him, your words holding more meaning than one.

“I don’t.” Fisher all but barks back as you take your leave. You turn your head as you walk away with your winnings, enjoying the energy coursing through your veins while it lasts.

“Get a cutter with that prize money, Jayce.” You joke before walking away, a slight grin pulling at your lips when you hear his answer.

“Get some clean clothes, Gray.”

----------

A/N: Fun fact, Fisher is based on a real person/stranger I met while I was playing darts one night. I'll never know what his last name was but his first was Juan, hence his initials being JF :) Low key though he had hella reader energy, I got hustled pretty good that night.

As always thanks for reading!

Cheers,

Ghost

[strykingback]

UPCOMING EVENT REVEAL

"Zek! Honey?" Atya said walking into his room who was just sleeping with Ergis on the floor sleeping as well. With a little smile on her face after everything Zek had been through especially with this last mission to take a MUCH NEEDED extended break. He is brave indeed but he can push himself a bit too much. But after everything he did need the break.. but that was not going to stop her from telling him the news.

Thus did she walk up and sit right next to him rubbing his cheek and kissing it lightly watching her son wake up. "Mm... Ma..? What is it?" He said whining as he sat up looking at her.

"Well.. I have some news for you." She said handing him the poster with eyes widening shock at what he was reading.

"The Yhyakh Festival?! It's almost here!!!?!?!" He said with shock.

"Mmhmm! This means you can finally participate in your first Dygyn!" She said with Zek's eyes lighting up as Ergis woke up standing right next to Atya and Zek also getting a look at the poster as well.

EVENT: YHYAKH FESTIVAL For those unware. Yhyakh is a festival celebrated by the Sahkhan people of Yakutia or Sakha on June 21st and does not end until the day after next. To which this festival is meant to celebrate a day of rebirth and joy throughout the summer while also re-connecting with nature after the long winter there.

The festival will contain:

The Games Of Dygyn- An Athletic Competition Consisting of Three different competitions throughout the two days.

Day one will consist of the Triple Jump Competition, Wrestling, and the Sahkhan Turntable to test ones jumping length, Strength, and Flexibility.

The Final Day's Competition will consist of: Archery, Stick Wrestling , and Boulder lifting.

Whoever wins shall be crowned the winner of the games and will receive fiften-thousand lien for winning.

Other events include: Ceremonial Dancing Food Homemade Jewelry and Clothing and MUCH MORE!

Also heres a video on what to expect there!

Forde Village's Yhyakh Festival!!!! June 21st- June 22nd!!

[jewwyfeesh]

STAR'S WAR - 3

Writer: Mitsuki

Characters: Narukami Arashi, Tsukinaga Leo

Translated by: jewwyfeesh

EN Proof by: royalquintet (twt)

Leo: Uuuu… My lightsaber… My fighting partner… I bid you adieu… Forevermore…

[ ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Live Stage

Arashi: Next up, we have a question that’s related to Leo-kun himself: during the performance in ‘Next Door’, Leo-kun earned a new nickname. What is this nickname?

Leo: ……Eh?! I vaguely remember something like this happening, but what was it—

“Le le le’s le, are you going out~~~!?” That’s all I got!

Arashi: Okay! Leo-kun, your answer is wrong, while Your Highness’ answer is correct! The answer is, “Le le le Leo-kun”~

Leo: Uuu, if you gave me a little more time, I’d definitely be able to think of it…!

Arashi: It’s too late for regrets now~ The next question has to do with last year’s ‘Repayment Festival’ – dig deep into your memories for this one! Please pay attention—

Prior to inheriting the crown, Tsukasa-chan said something to the rest of Knights. What did he say?

Leo: Oh! Me, me! Suo~ surely said we’re his kind-hearted, warm and reliable seniors!

Arashi: Mm… Is that really what happened? Their Royal Highness has also provided their own answers. We shall now present the correct answer—

“Ritsu-senpai, Sena-senpai, and Leader… Usually, you all love to be unreasonably nitpicky towards me, and have no shame in pushing me around.” [1]

“I’ve always felt a little unwilling, and you may have often had me near tears in frustration, but… I’ve always felt that on the inside, you are all very kind-hearted, warm and reliable.”

Leo: Aaaahhhhh— Evil, evil…! That part in front is extra!! Not to mention, why does the answer need to be so specific~

Arashi: That’s obviously because everything in this day and age can be video recorded!. Leo-kun, you’ve gotta step up your game~ After this, we have… ♪

A picture of the accessories Knights wore when we performed in the Canary Hall, with the respective idol’s colours blocked out. Please match the accessories to their corresponding idols.

Leo: Um…

Arashi: Last but not least, we have a complete-the-lyric question. “Flip open the pages of a thrilling adventure, and yet— ♪”

Leo: “And yet another jewel appears~ Shining in your eyes~ ♪” [2]

Aah! I got it correct! I won, right?

Arashi: I’m really sorry to say this, but Leo-kun lost. Let us congratulate Their Highness on their win ♪

And, as a trophy, Their Highness won the ‘Lightsaber’ that Leo-kun’s currently holding. After all the members of Knights have signed it, the staff will personally deliver it to you~

Leo: Uuuu… My lightsaber… My fighting partner… I bid you adieu… Forevermore…

Wait, you’re telling me to wait before I start crying…? What’s that supposed to mean?

Arashi: Well, that’s because Leo-kun’s punishment has yet to be revealed ☆

Leo: WHAT?! Isn’t taking away a knight’s sword punishment enough? This is too much—

[ ☆ ]

translator's notes: [1] translation for this line was partially adapted from royalquintet's tl of reqiuem -- lux aeterna 24. due to differences between their translation and CN text, i only partially adapted their tl and translated the rest myself.

[2] translation from this is taken from the wiki's fan-translation of little romance. thank you cybacle and iridesenescence for the translation.

← Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Chapter 4 →

[musical-chan]

Starfall Wishes

I created a holiday for a discord prompt! Welcome to the winter holiday of Starfall. Every winter, thousands of stars fall from the sky. The people of Hyrule believe these are blessings from the Golden Goddesses and celebrate the occasion with food, decorations and festivals. Set in the era of post-OOT/MM and written in my Father of Time AU, join Link as he discovers what Starfall is for the first time.

I'm honestly very happy with this holiday I created. I think it has a very Zelda-Universe flair and I hope to use it again in other fanfics. I hope other people enjoy it as well!

[pix4japan]

400-Year-Old Teahouse

(Hakone, Kanagawa Pref., Japan)

Amazake-chaya Teahouse has been serving travelers its famous amazake drink for most of its history dating back to the early 1600s.

Their menu is very simple and includes mochi (glutinous rice that is steamed and pounded into a paste) that is grilled over charcoals and coated in isobe soy sauce, uguisu sweet young soy bean powder, or uguisu mixed with black sesame seeds.

The shop’s namesake drink, amazake, is a traditional fermented rice drink. The teahouse has been using the same recipe for 13 generations where no yeast is used, thus resulting in a naturally sweet drink that has no alcohol.

The drink has a texture closer to rice porridge rather than sake, is loaded with lots of nutrients, and is often served or sold at temples and shrines during winter festivals.

Pentax K-1 II + DFA 28-105mm F3.5-5.6 40 mm ISO 100 for 1/13 sec. at ƒ/11

[cryopathiic-a]

💐💐💐💐 [ plot twist, they are made of bones and meticulously shaped & carved into flowers ]

flower prompt if you even care :/ || accepting

The flower festival is a celebration of color. Plucked fresh from the temple's hanging gardens, arrays of bouquets are tied off with red string and decorate the rusty statues guarding shrines. An air of jubilance hangs over the faithful on that day, as they prepare to welcome the oncoming spring.

Winter comes to its fated end; the ice melts into rivers, returning life-giving water back to the earth.

It is with the same generosity that The Lord Founder greets his many faithful in the aftermath of a busy evening. Filled with dance, laughter and rejoicing in love. His wave, soft and airy, matches the impalpable entrance of the midnight moon. And there, under the cover of night, his mask falls sweetly as silk from a maiden's skin and there reveals something few may dare to gaze upon. Because so few blossoms dare bloom in the darkness.

Standing alone in the quiet outback, Dōma's expression had been harshly empty. His eyes reflected a round moon over the ponds and his sternum lay flat, as if he had sucked in a greedy breath and refused to let it go. In the utmost stillness of the night, he was not unlike the demon Kokushibo's statue, hoisted proudly over the waters on a pedestal. Perhaps it was those hollowed carved eyes that urged Upper Two's shoulders into jumping slightly when the familiar scent of poison filled his lungs.

He turns slowly, the smile slipping back on like clockwork. Pale lips part slightly as his vibrant gaze falls on the third moon's offering. Watching Naraku's poised gait closer without a word, the priest's face wears an indecipherable pause — somewhat lost in thought, dreamy or perplexed; the knot between his brows would not confess.

❝ ... You made this for me. ❞ He acknowledges, or eases the admission out of the other anyway. Naraku has trouble with words, at times. When they're most heartfelt, Upper Two has noted. ❝ You should have given it to me before. Mm— I know, I was a little busy mingling and whatnot. But, you shouldn't be shy to approach me, Nara. If any human catches onto what you are, I will say that you're some malevolent spirit that haunts me from time to time. And then— well, you might get some salt spritzed on you but... you'll be fine~ ❞ Dōma laughs. They didn't get to interact as much as he had hoped during the festival. These celebrations were meant to keep the humans happy and healthy, after all — and placid.

❝ Let me see what you've made there. I must admit, I'm not the best at telling flowers apart. ❞ A convenient lie their Master has heard all too many times. ❝ But... ❞ A sharp claw reaches out then, tenderly scraping the marble-like petals before taking them in his arms. ❝ I would say those slightly resemble carnations, to me. ❞

His gaze snaps up and thick lashes no longer protect Naraku from its penetrating glow. At times like these, Dōma looks as if he is gazing directly in the pitch black void that is Upper Three's soul. His eyes do not wonder the darkness in search of something. He doesn't seek to run from it, either. He simply stares at the void, expecting it to blink back, eventually. And it is with that same meticulous perseverance that his tongue trails the edge of one of those petals, never breaking eye contact lest he miss the nuances of his companion's reaction.

❝ -— you know... out of all my subordinates-- ❞ Spoken with such intonation as if he meant for Upper One's statue to hear. And then his cold hand reached out to take the other's, leading him gently into a spin. ❝— you taste the absolute sweetest~ But... now that you gave me flowers, it is mandated that you'll dance with me as well. What else would you be giving me flowers for, huh? ❞

[enarmor]

“ It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry. I hope this isn't awkward or anything, but I was thinking of how you helped me all the way back then, and I really wanted to do something to make it up to you, ”  Pelleas explains to Sain after approaching him the day of the Winter Festival.  “ I hope you'll accept this then. I understand if you don't though. That's fine. ”

The gift the shaman presents the cavalier, once unwrapped, turns out to be a book of sorts with pockets dedicated to be filled with something— a something soon explained by its gifter.

“ Since you seemed as invested in flowers as I am, I thought you might like a do-it-yourself encyclopedia for them. The idea behind it is that all those slots are designed to let you preserve pressed flowers into them, and it's spelled to protect them and the book from most kinds of damage it might take so you can bring the tome with you anywhere. I thought it sounded a bit fun if you're the type to go a lot of places and can find rare flowers... and you can even write in the space next to them where you found it or any flower meanings and things like that. I almost nearly bought one for myself too, actually...

“ Oh, but I'm rambling right now, aren't I? Sorry. I know I do that a lot. I just can't help getting excited over a shared interest like this. Anyway, I'll leave you be for today, but I do wish you a happy Winter Festival in any case. ”

"Hm?"

Sain hears the ring of a familiar tolling-bell. Its hoarseness melds into the early morning light petering into the greenhouse, masking what uncertainty it carries with the prospect of a new day. When he turns around, Pelleas is almost shining. He retains that dream-like quality of their first meeting.

The Lance grins. He believes it amusing that the other would be so apologetic and apprehensive about giving a gift. Sain should be thanking him, not trying to shoo him away. And yet he seems to have prepared for the worst. This prompts him into nodding and earnestly listening to his explanation of the gift.

He accepts it into his hands, leafing through its pages whenever Pelleas' explanation gives him the cue.

And once finished, he claps it shut with one hand. The other moves to rustle his friend's hair.

"If I asked you to stop saying sorry, I think you'd only apologize for being a bother." He laughs a little, even if his words are weighted with genuine intent. "So thank you, Pelleas. The care you put into this is more meticulous than a master craftsman! If more people worried about as many details as you, I'd bet the roads we ride on would all be works of art."

He then turns away from the heir, eyes darting around the room. As he walks in a small line he brushes the petals of every plant he can. It's like he's perusing the wares of a general store. A short moment later, and he lands on a pair of pink, star-shaped flowers. "Mm, these'll do," he mutters to himself.

"Pelleas, get a good look at these. They're Pink Lucks--symbols of enthusiasm." After pressing one into the first slot of his scrapbook, he hands the other off to the Daein, as well as the remainder of his holiday bonus--kept in a small pouch.

"I want you to go back and buy a book for yourself. Press this Pink Luck into the same spot as mine, and we'll be lifelong partners! Maybe in a few years we can compare notes, maybe see whose flower dictionary is more romantic."

To perhaps appear more agreeable, he tilts his head to one side and allows his eyelids to flutter shut. With a wave, they see each other off.

"Happy Winter Festival, and don't forget the 'enthusiasm' I've given you!"

[blxckdragonfly]

In Your Room (Darkness Finds You Universe #8)

(Song: "In Your Room" by Halestorm.

Pairing: Chris Motionless & Lycia Winters "Pronunciation: Lai-shuh"(Played by Ana De Armas)

Warning: Slight mention of death, other than that just plain old fluff.

Word Count: 5,621

Synopsis: After a wonderful dream and a wonderful romantic evening before, Chris opens up to Lycia about the confrontation that happened at Furnace Festival with Ash Costello.

And we're back! This is a pretty long one but it's also vulnerable for Chris. I loved how it turned out though! Co-written with @blackrose-92! Enjoy. x Tiger)

Set of “Thoughts and Prayers” Music Video– July 24th, 2021. 

Chris and I have been seeing each other for a few months now and I’m currently on my way to go see him as he’s filming with his band, Motionless In White, the music video for their song “Thoughts & Prayers”. I’d been asked to come along to the shoot and take a few photos of the music video shoot for Outburn. The concept of the video was of Chris being in a white suit, his makeup giving the feel of The Joker and performing some kind of ritual– while the other scenes were of him with the band, and then he as well as the band would be drenched in fake blood. 

When the cameras were off and it was just me and Chris on set, he walked up to me while still covered in the red liquid. 

“Hey! Don’t get me bloody!” I say as I see the mischievous gleam in his eye. I try to run away but he follows me with a smirk on his face. I squeal. “No! Get away from me, Carrie.” 

He catches me and his arms close around me, making me freeze as the thought of when my cocaine dealer’s friend tried touching me and I told him no, but he refused to listen to me. I tried to get away from him but it led to me being assaulted. 

“Christopher! I told you not to touch me or get blood on me!” I said, sternly. I see his once playful brown eyes look hurt, he lets go of me and his face looks wounded. 

“I’m sorry, Lycia,” His voice is small as he steps back from me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It won’t happen again.” 

I take a deep breath, my heart racing with mixed emotions– feeling bad that I yelled at him. I walk up to him, wiping away the blood off his face and helping him see me better, forcing him to look into my hazel eyes. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you… You look kind of hot.” 

His head lifted up and he met my eyes with a seductive glimmer in his chocolate brown eyes. "I do?" I shook my head, but I was also smiling. I stepped close to him and reached for his hand from him, touching it lightly. He turned his wrist up to pull me closer. “Mm. How about you come over here and do something about it?” 

“You know, I think I might,” I murmured as we embraced, the blood smeared onto my hair and face. He closed the gap between us and kisses me passionately, pressing his body to mine and deepening our kiss. His lips parted from mine, leaving soft kisses on my neck as a moan of pleasure escaped my lips. He feels my warm breath against his neck. 

“Oh, I want you so much right now,” He presses his lips to mine again, kissing me gentler this time. “But this isn’t the right time or place.” I hear him sigh as he reluctantly pulls away from me, gazing into my hazel eyes– seeing the green and yellow illuminated by a consuming passion that I felt. He looks at me in admiration, even with the blood splattered in my hair and on my face. 

“That’s true,” I said as he set me back down on my feet, feeling his fingers wrap around mine. I hear a chuckle from him and I look up into his eyes again. 

“Did you really call me Carrie?” Chris says and I look him up and down, seeing him covered in blood did remind me of the remake of the classic Stephen King movie. 

“Have you not looked in the mirror?” I said as I gestured to one of the vanity mirrors. He lets go of my hand and walks over to the mirror, finally seeing himself covered in blood and he laughed. 

“You have a point.” He smiled at me as I laughed. “I suppose we should get cleaned up, huh?” 

I nod in agreement. “Good thing you told me to bring an extra set of clothes,” I replied. We start getting cleaned up as he smiles and on the tip of my tongue were the three words I wanted to say to him, which were ‘I love you’ but the memory of losing Marcus held me back. 

Chris and Lycia’s Home: Scranton, Pennsylvania. November 13th, 2022. 

My body twitches involuntarily as I felt Chris wrap his arms around me while he laid behind me. I stir and open my eyes, the memory of the dream is still fresh in my mind. As I wipe away the tears that escaped my closed eyelids, Chris nuzzles his face into the side of my neck and holds me tightly to his chest. His warm breath on my skin and the soft embrace gives me a sense of security. 

“Lycia? Hey,” Chris whispers gently as he looks into my tired gaze. “Shh. What is it? Are you having a nightmare?” 

I sniffle softly and shift onto my back, staring up at Chris’s strong calm brown eyes. “It was a dream,” I explain, keeping my voice steady as memories of the dream flooded back to me. “It was a wonderful dream.” 

He exhales sharply, a mixture of hope and worry creasing his face. “It’s alright,” He murmured softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you were dreaming about.” 

I hug him, drawing him close to me. “It wasn’t just an ordinary flashback. Do you remember when you brought me to the set of the ‘Thoughts and Prayers’ music video?” He nods. “That was because something bad had happened with one of my dealers’ friends. When I realized where I was, I saw your face. It reminded me that I wasn’t in that place anymore, but it made me feel guilty for yelling at you.” 

Tears run down my cheeks as I look at him. “I still do. I never told you why.” 

Chris enfolds my body in his arms and rests my head on top of his chest, he gently strokes the back of my hair as he speaks, “Sh. You don’t have to apologize for feeling upset. Everyone has their own triggers and I accidentally hit yours that day.” His voice is soft and soothing as he speaks to me. “I’m not mad at you for that, babe. I love you too much to be angry with you.” 

I smile, feeling a little bit more at ease now that I have shared my dream with Chris. He listens patiently and without a sliver of judgment, which made me feel even more safe in his arms and less guilty for lashing out at him. 

“I almost said that I loved you that day,” I confess quietly. His eyes widened in surprise, disbelief evident on his face. 

“What?!” He exclaims and I start to giggle at his reaction as I repeat myself. 

“I almost did,” I say again, nodding my head as I spoke. “But it was the outburst that I said at the time that made me reconsider saying it.” 

Chris sighs heavily and shakes his head in disbelief. “Wait, seriously? What?!” He asks again, still amazed by this new development. I giggle again and blush slightly. 

He looks at me thoughtfully before speaking again. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He mutters under his breath as realization dawns on him. “I screwed that up, didn’t I?” 

His gaze held a mixture of guilt and regret as he looks into my eyes, clearly feeling responsible for the scenario we had found ourselves in back at the music video shoot. 

“Babe, you haven’t done anything wrong,” I say. “It wasn’t until Ash Costello made an attempt to intervene in our relationship that I finally said I loved you. Remember?” 

Let me in your room

I've seen the rest of you

But I know there's something more in your room

I'm right outside your door

Show me things you've never shown before…

Chris grinned fondly as I spoke of the day that I confronted Ash and expressed my feelings for him, he tenderly sweeps a lock of my hair from my face and looks into my eyes. He takes a deep breath and lets out a shuddering sigh as he remembers the moment. 

“Yeah, I remember,” He says, reverently, his voice thick with emotions. “You were so brave and strong to stand up to Ash like you did and you expressed your love for me in such a powerful way.” His face lit up with joy and affection as he continued. “It was honestly one of the most incredible displays of affection I’ve ever witnessed and it will stay with me forever.” 

A few pictures from your past

And those walls you painted black

And the secrets that you keep under your bed

All you have to do is let me in your room

I smile widely as I embrace him and kiss him tenderly. I was overwhelmed with emotions I hadn’t expected to feel. When we break apart, I admire him with my eyes. 

“I’m so glad I told you how I felt; I had kept it inside for far too long. You mean more to me than anything else in the world.” I say. 

Gently, Chris caresses my back and watches as I close my eyes at his touch and breathe in the smell of his skin. I look up at him, my lips draw into a smile as I exhale and kiss him softly on the cheek. 

He leans in closer and meets my lips in a soft kiss, when we pull away, he looks into my eyes once more, his voice taking on a quieter tone. “I love you, my Lycia. I love you more than anything in this world.” 

I look at Chris with tears in my eyes, I couldn’t believe that I’d found someone who loved me like he did and felt so lucky that I had him. I reach to cup his face in both of my hands and smile lovingly at him. 

“I love you too,” I say softly before leaning in to kiss him again. This time our kiss was passionate and full of tenderness, it was clear how much we loved each other at that moment. 

“You’re perfect, Christopher Cerulli.” I notice that his eyes took on a look of sadness as he pulled away from me and he sits up in bed, sighing. “Hey. What’s wrong?” 

I can see that he was holding something back, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I sit up in bed too, resting my hand on his shoulder, making him look over at me. I move my fingers to his cheek, my thumb tracing comforting circles on his skin. He was hesitant for a moment. 

“I know that we just spoke about Ash Costello trying to destroy our relationship back in 2021,” Chris begins, his voice low and serious. “But there’s something else I need to share with you.” 

I nod encouragingly, concern etched onto my face as I wait for him to continue. My eyes never left his, as if my gaze had been enough to will him to find the words he needed to tell me what was weighing so heavily on his heart as I rest my cheek on his shoulder. 

“Baby,” I say. “What is it?” 

With another deep breath, he speaks. “Ash has actually tried this before, when I was seeing somebody else; Gaia. The only thing that made you different from Gaia is that she actually listened to what Ash said and cut off the connection between her and I.” 

So this wasn’t a one time thing with her. I thought as my eyes flew open with surprise, finding out that Ash indeed had a history of being involved in Chris’s life and manipulating his relationships. I think back to the argument that I had with Ash at Furnace Festival. It wasn’t an isolated incident after all. 

“Ash shouldn’t have done that to you,” I say through gritted teeth. “It isn’t right to meddle in someone’s love life, regardless of who you are.” 

Chris sadly shakes his head at me. “I just wished she stayed out of it. I don’t regret ever being with Gaia, but it felt like Ash was interfering too much.” He was silent for a few minutes. “You can hear it when I play Eternally Yours when we’re on tour.” 

My heart shatters as I hear the same sadness in Chris’s voice as I’ve heard many times before. I’d watch him perform when he was on the Trinity of Terror tour and towards the end of Eternally Yours, his vocals would change.

Pain, sadness, and a sense of distance were all conveyed in his voice, like he was on the brink of tears but he couldn’t let them go. He scoffs at himself bitterly, making me raise a brow at him in confusion. 

“Ash has it all in her head that I had feelings for her which was never true,” Chris explains, his voice edged with anger. “Yeah, sure, I've worked closely with her– I've collaborated with her band, New Years Day on a song and been in the music video. But that doesn't mean that I've ever felt anything more than just friendship and professional admiration for her. Ever since then, she's tried to stick her nose in my personal life and relationships. It's not right.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” My tone was quiet, struggling to remain emotionless. 

“I wasn’t sure if it was too early in our relationship,” Chris admits. “The thought of me mentioning this to you might have pushed you away from me.” 

You can be yourself

You don't have to hide from me, I won't tell

I know everyone you've ever trusted has let you down

And you don't want to come out

And show me, show me

I run my red tipped fingernails across his tattooed jawline, tracing the lyric to Saturday Night by the Misfits as I give him a kind smile. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be scared of telling me anything,” I say warmly. “It’s okay for you to let it out. I’m here for you, no matter what. As long as we’re on the same page.” 

He gazes into my eyes, his face takes on a look of comfort and security that he hadn’t felt in a while, he lets out a soft exhale and nods in agreement, a small smile crossing his face. 

“No, you’re right,” He murmurs as he turns to me, taking my hand and sinking back into the cozy sheets of our bed. “I shouldn’t have been scared to tell you what happened with Ash before. I was just petrified that I’d lose you the way I had with Gaia.” 

I smile, tears forming in the corner of my eyes. “Hey,” I whisper gently, fingers reaching up to the roots of his short black hair. “You don’t ever have to worry about that. I told you before, you can tell me anything. Unless I say so, it won’t bother me.” 

“Perhaps I should let Lyra mentally beat that into my head,” Chris says with amusement in his voice. 

I pull back from him and give him a quizzical look, tears gone and I giggle. “That’s not necessary.” 

“I mean, it worked the first time,” Chris chuckles softly. “Do you remember when we were in Cleveland for the Trinity of Terror tour and I had that talk with Lyra?” 

I nod, thinking back to when I’d left to go talk to his bandmates and had noticed him talking to Lyra when we arrived at the venue that day. 

"Yes, I remember," I say. 

"Lyra told me that I had nothing to worry about when it comes to you and I," Chris murmurs, taking my hand in his own, kissing the backs of my knuckles. "She believes that you're the one for me, she knew it in her heart."

Chris ran his fingers through my caramel brown hair and began to massage my scalp, the metal of his silver and black coffin ring giving my skin a slight chill. His touch was tender and calming, causing my heart to swell with adoration for him. I lifted my hand to cover his, wearing the matching gold coffin ring that signified our connection.

"You know," Chris speaks in a lower voice, making every cell in my body tingle with joy. "I think Lyra has been right about you all along. I do believe that you're the one."

I smile as I look into Chris's eyes and squeeze his hand. "Maybe we should both thank Lyra then." I reply softly, my voice full of emotion.

Chris chuckles and leans in to place a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Maybe we should. I think Lyra definitely knows how to be a matchmaker."

I giggle as I envelop him in my arms and rest my head against his chest. A satisfied sigh escaped from my lips as I realized just how safe and secured he made me feel on top of being loved and I also realized that I never thanked him for when I opened up to him about Marcus and how his death still affects me. 

A few pictures from your past

And those walls you painted black

And the secrets that you keep under your bed

All you have to do is let me in your room

"I never told you thank you for being so understanding of all the things I had to tell you," I murmured softly, tracing little circles on the back of Chris's neck with my fingers. "The nightmares, my past with substance abuse that nearly took my life, everything."

Chris looks down, not wanting to meet the yellow-green of my hazel gaze but feeling my words touch him deeply. He brings his hand to cover mine and pulls it away from his neck before bringing it up to his lips and kissing it.

"Honey, I may not have been in the same position as you were when Marcus died," Chris says. He remembered everything I told him, how he had been burned alive by his own hand and watched it happen, how it continues to haunt me to this day. "But, I can understand the pain of losing the one that you loved the most."

I nod in agreement and then hug him tightly, taking in his warmth and comfort. I could feel tears begin to prick in my eyes again as I thought about Marcus but I kept them back, pushing them away with the knowledge that Chris was here and he understood me and my grief. His grip tightens on me a little bit as he kisses the top of my head. He lifts his head, looking into my eyes which glimmered with unshed tears, hands caressing my face tenderly as a soft sigh escaped from his lips. 

“You know, I can never fully take away your pain or make it go away,” He says softly. “But I can promise you this– I will always be here for you, no matter how hard it gets.” 

He takes my hand in his and runs his fingers over my knuckles gently before leaning in to place kisses along each of my fingertips. I stare into his brown eyes and smile at him. I’ve never felt more understood or supported– until this wonderful man came into my life. He has come into my life and has done more than I ever thought possible. 

“I love you,” I whisper as I lean in to kiss him gently. 

“I love you too,” He replies, voice raw with emotion. I see the warmth and love that he had for me in his warm brown gaze. “You will never be alone in this, babe.” 

I nod as tears of joy run down my face, ever since that fateful day that we met– I’ve never felt love like this. I never ever wanted to let go of how perfect this feeling is between us.

I wrap my arms around his neck and I kiss him again, pouring all of the emotion I felt in the kiss. I wanted him to know how much he means to me, how I’ve appreciated everything he’s done for me. 

You know every part of me

I let you in, I let you see

All the dark and every color of my room

As our lips part, I felt my heart swell. His chest begins to rise and fall rapidly against mine as I melt into his embrace. His deep brown eyes glistened with emotions in his gaze– I could see happiness, love, a bit of fear. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my forehead before pressing his own against mine. 

“I've been carrying so much since Marcus died three years ago,” I whisper. “But you always seem to know when I need you most, It's not just that you listen– it's that you make me feel safe to share these things. Your love means so much to me.” 

I lean in to press a light kiss on Chris’s lips, thanking him silently for being there when I needed him to be, listening to my struggles, and supporting me with so much compassion and understanding. A single tear ran down my cheek. 

“I’m so grateful for you,” I whisper softly as I lean into his lips. “Thank you for being there through my pain and sorrow.” 

Chris pulls me close in his arms, kissing the top of my caramel brown hair tenderly as he covers my bare skin with his fingers, tracing my tattoos on my sides. “Of course. I’ll always be by your side, baby.” He whispered huskily into my ear. 

I smile into him, feeling warmth come over my body at hearing those words come out of his mouth so easily. I lift my head and capture his lips with mine in a fiery kiss, pouring all of the emotion I had been feeling and holding onto since Marcus left this world into it.

His hands explore my back and hips, his tongue invades my mouth, teasing and stroking until I gasp in delight. I let out a breathless whimper of pleasure as our lips met in a passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever. 

When the need for breath finally broke us apart, my gaze traces over his handsome face and his strong jawline as he beams at me, his eyes serene and affectionate as he places tender kisses into the side of my neck.

His fingers curve over a thin strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear and revealing the curve of my jawline. He moves in slowly, placing a light kiss onto the tip of my nose before pulling back to look into my eyes once more. 

“You will always be my Lycia Rose,” Chris whispers softly against my lips, breathing into my skin. 

I smile and kiss him again, slower this time as I meet the depths of his brown eyes. “And you will always be my Christopher Cerulli.” 

Let me do that for you

And tell me all about your past

Why you painted those walls black

Baby it's all right, you're safe in here with me

Open up so I can see

I hear a soft chuckle from him as his fingertips move along my skin. “Let’s try to lighten up the conversation a little bit,” He says. “When I was a teenager, before Motionless In White got big, I used to work at the toy department at Walmart.” 

I gaze up at him, amused by the concept of someone with black hair, brown eyes, and tattoos almost all over their body working at that kind of store. I burst into laughter again as Chris trails his fingers up and down my bare sides. “What’s so funny?” He laughs. 

"Just imagining you like that," I say between giggles. I sigh softly. “That was better than my teenage years.” 

I can see him take on a look of sympathy as he remembers what I had told him after that morning from Furnace Festival, being sexually assaulted at fourteen and having parents who verbally abused and tormented me. He strokes my hair with his fingers in understanding. 

"Your first job sounds so much better than what I had," I say as I shake my head, thinking of the summers of my teenage years. "Every summer, I'd have to go out and help my aunt, who was a crime scene cleaner. She was the one who was called in when there was any type of death or hoarding that needed to be taken care of."

Chris nods, trying to picture what it must have been like for me. He couldn't even imagine having the courage to walk in and help take care of a scene like that and clean it up for the families like I had as a teenager.

"That's really tough," he said softly, his heart hurting for me as he pulled me closer into his embrace.

I looked down at our intertwined hands, my own thumb tracing the jack o' lantern he had tattooed on his left hand as well as the first half of his "Scranton" tattoo along his fingers before sighing gently in response.

"It was definitely difficult at times," I said quietly. "But it gave me a different perspective on life, you know? It made me realize how precious life is and how quickly it can easily be taken away from you."

"Do you remember anything from that experience?" Chris asks as he looks at me with curiosity. "You don't have to go into the details if you don't want to."

I sigh and run my fingers through his black hair before looking at him, meeting his warm chocolate brown eyes. 

"Well, I didn't mind it so much– the bodies were long gone by the time we arrived. There was something satisfying about making a home look better after the experience of a tragedy." I murmured as my lips quirked up as I recalled the feeling of accomplishment I'd get after handling such tough cleaning jobs. "I felt like I was making a difference in some kind of way."

Chris smiled at my words, heartwarming to see how much strength has gone into me helping others. I could see that it made him love me even more for being so selfless and compassionate towards others. 

"That's really amazing," he said softly, squeezing my hand in admiration. "You have such a good heart, Lycia."

I blush slightly and snuggle closer to Chris, grateful for the comforting warmth of his body next to mine. "You’re sweet. Thank you, babe." I murmured.

A few pictures from your past

And those walls you painted black

And the secrets that you keep under your bed

"So when we were done cleaning up, my aunt would take us out for lunch or for ice cream," I continued with a fond smile on my face. "It felt nice to have something sweet to counterbalance the sadness of what we had just seen."

Chris laughed and nodded in agreement. "I'm sure it did. I can't even imagine what that would have been like." he said, shaking his head in disbelief at how brave I was to do that kind of work.

"It wasn't easy," I admit as I look away pensively, thinking back on all the gruesome scenes I'd experienced as a teenager, seeing the blood and maggots that lined the floors in some of the places that I'd been assigned to clean. I take a deep breath before I look back into Chris's eyes again and smile sadly. "But it was rewarding too and that was how I became unaffected by horror movies nor did seeing you covered in blood we were on set of the Thoughts and Prayers music video."

Chris nods, understanding the difficult situations that I had been in and me not being afraid of blood, he was humbled by my strength and courage to help those in need despite the horror and heartbreaking experiences that I had been through at such a young age.

"I'm sure it did," He says with a gentle tone of his voice, taking both of my hands in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "You're such an incredible woman for doing those kinds of selfless things, Lycia."

I blush slightly at his kind words and smile shyly at him. "Thank you," I murmured. "You're not so bad yourself." before leaning in to give Chris a soft peck onto his lips.

Chris grins at my response, feeling his own cheeks heat up a little. He leaned in, capturing my lips in an affectionate kiss before pulling away and looking into the hazel of my eyes, the yellow-green shimmering bright. "The kind of person that you are makes me love you even more."

I smile back at him, touched by his words and the sincerity behind them. I could feel my heart flutter with emotion as I looked into his loving gaze and couldn't help but reach up to cup his face in my hands.

"I love you too, Chris," I say softly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before laying back against him for support. Chris smiled as he drapes his arms around me and holds me close, brushing a soft kiss against the top of my head.

"Thank you for sharing your stories with me," he said gently. "It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," I reply, tilting my head back to gaze into his face, a small smile tugging at the edge of my lips as I meet his warm chocolate brown eyes, feeling a wave of warmth run through my body as he kisses me softly.

An unopened letter from your dad

A poster of your favorite band

Chris pulled away from the kiss before laying his forehead against mine, our noses lightly touching as he gave me a soft peck on the lips with a smile before pulling away once more and I curled into his arms, closing my eyes. 

“Meu anjo amoroso." I whisper into the air around us. 

"Mm. What was that?" He whispers into the skin of my shoulder, making my eyes shoot open as I realize that I’ve never spoken a single word of Portuguese in front of him before. Usually to my three brothers is when I speak my native tongue that came from my father, or I speak Greek because of my mother's side of the family.

I blush as I realize that Chris had heard me whisper those words in Portuguese. I look up at him, feeling a little embarrassed, but he just smiles down at me with a small twinkle in his eye.

"What did you say, baby?" He asked with curiosity lacing his voice.

I sigh and look away sheepishly. "It's something my papa used to tell me when I was little," I explained shyly. "It means 'my loving angel'."

Chris stares at me for a moment before his eyes soften. He cups my face gently in both of his hands, leaning forward to press his forehead against mine and I close my eyes, feeling his warmth as he whispers softly into my ear, "Honey, you are my loving angel."

I open my eyes and look into his warm gaze. I feel so much love for him that it almost brought tears back in my eyes. I smiled through them before moving to capture Chris's lips from him in a long and passionate kiss.

"The way you speak Portuguese is beautiful, Lycia," Chris murmured as we broke our kiss.

I blush at the compliment and look away shyly, my heart swelling with love for him. I move my head to rest back on his chest as I listen to the steady beat of his heart and feel the warmth of his embrace. My blush deepens and I let out a small laugh, burying my head in his chest. “Thank you, baby,” I whisper. 

Chris met my eyes before closing the gap between us and pressing a light kiss on my lips, wanting to express the gratitude he felt for me opening up to him.

He kisses me deeply, reveling in the warmth that he felt radiating from me as his lips moved against mine. He brushes away the strands of my caramel brown hair from my face lovingly before tracing circles on the small of my back soothingly while we lay together in each other's embrace.

I tremble under Chris's touch, feeling my heart race as our lips stay connected. I have never felt so safe and loved in someone's arms before. As we break apart, I look at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, his finger moving to trace my jawline tenderly.

Chris kisses the top of my head, his eyes close as he takes in the feeling of me in his arms. He smiles, feeling happier than he had ever been before. He slid an arm around my back and cuddles me close to him as he glances at the clock, seeing that it was almost two in the morning.

"I think we should get some sleep, don't you agree?" Chris says softly, running his fingers through my hair soothingly.

I nod my agreement before snuggling even closer to Chris and placing a soft kiss on the haunted house that he had tattooed on his chest. I close my eyes, allowing myself to relax in his embrace of him as I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart beating under my ear.

It don't matter I'll take every part of you

All you have to do is let me in your room

Let me in your room….