#they amped up how ridiculous he can be

[nbkdramathings]

I think the best thing about Lovely Runner so far has been the fact that BOTH leads are huge goobers and are equally ridiculous when it comes to the other.

I also love that even adult Sun Jae is goofy and not as cool as he may seem. Haha

I still haven’t done my “road so far” rewatch, but I’m DEFINITELY rewatching today’s episode. Mostly to see adult Sun Jae, and that bridge scene at the end. 🫠

[luveline]

Hey! Can you do something for rockstar!james x photographer!reader??

for you!!

You're standing behind a barricade and it's so fucking cold you could cry, but you have a job to do and no time to go back and get your jacket. Your arms are tired with the fatigue that comes with carrying your camera and its expensive lens around all day. 

At least you'll be paid well. And you get to see celebrities for the evening, picture perfect, handsome and gorgeous and famous enough that your breath catches when they stop for photos no matter how many times you've photographed some of them before. 

"Sirius!" The photographer next to you calls. "This way! Smile for us!" 

You follow the shouting and wait for the face connected to the name to smile. Sirius Black, front man of potentially the most famous indie band in Britain currently, poses without really posing. He's effortless. 

James Potter walks beside him. He seems more genuine, which isn't to say Sirius Black is fake, but James smiles at the photographers like he knows them. His gaze locks in on you for a second and you can't help the schoolgirl chills that race down your spine. He's breathtakingly handsome, brown skin glowing under the bright lights above, his hair glossy and curled as if each individual ringlet has been held and twisted in the hand of an angel. He's ridiculous in how pretty he is, truly.

Without thinking, you say something unlike yourself. Photographers are allowed to compliment the people they're shooting, but it feels clumsy on your tongue. "Hey, James," you call, not too loudly, almost hoping it'll get lost in the crowd, "smile for Getty, handsome." 

James doesn't hesitate to turn to you and smile. You take a photo, not your best, and drop your camera away from your eye. You give him your most genuine smile, hoping he thinks you're pretty (stupidly) while knowing you look ragged. 

"Thank you," you say. 

"You're welcome," James says, making a small hand gesture to Sirius. He approaches you, to the annoyance of the other photographers. "Hey, we've met before, haven't we?" 

"Yeah, we have, I take photos at all the events like this one. Where's Mr. Lupin?" 

"Mr. Lupin?" he asks, smiling. "Mr. Lupin's ill. He'll be alright." 

"It feels strange to call you by your first name, not knowing you." 

"You just called me James. And handsome, if I heard correctly." 

Your heart amps suddenly into racing speeds, as though only now realising that you're having a conversation with James Potter, and that he's grinning at you like you're friends, or better. "Sorry," you say. 

"So you take it back?" he asks, smile wavering. 

"Of course not, you're more than handsome, I– but I– I'm not trying to cat-call you." 

James' pretty smile moves back into place. He pushes his glasses back up the length of his strong nose with his marriage finger, and the blazer he wears bulges against his arm muscles from the movement. Your hands start to shake —you're a photographer, meant to take photos, not interview the talent. You have no idea what to say to him, worse, you've no idea why he's talking to you. 

"Are you cold?" he asks worriedly. 

"Wha– no, not really," you say. 

"Are you sure? You can have my jacket, shortcake, it's no trouble."

"It is trouble? You're about to be on TV," you say. 

James shoves his hands into his pockets. "I can sacrifice my TV appearances for the sake of a very cold looking, very pretty girl. It's selfish, really," he reassures you, "I like being complimented. I want you at the next event to do that again, not in hospital recovering from hypothermia." 

"James, can you stop flirting for five minutes?" Sirius asks. 

James nods at you apologetically and you take it for a farewell, catching up with his bandmate to ascend the stairs into the venue. The night moves forward slowly, taking photos of more celebrities, none as handsome and flirty. You're stopped short by a man in a tuxedo who looks like the servers from inside the show.

"Hi, this is for you," he says. 

You frown. "Are you sure?" 

"I was told to give it to the cold-looking photographer with a blue lanyard. You look cold." 

It's a hoodie. It's Marauders merchandise, a black hoodie in your size with a monogrammed drum set over the breast. You slip into it and worry it's a consolation present; maybe he'd thought you were a fan. 

It's not until you slip your icy fingers into the pockets and pull out a slip of paper you realise otherwise. 

Gorgeous, shivering photographer, 

Please ring me. I'm not above begging. I'd really like to see that photo. Love, James. 

P.S. I'm not kidding, (unless you don't really think I'm handsome and were extending some professional chivalry as Sirius thinks, then please ignore this) call me! :3 <3 

Your hands shake for the rest of the evening, despite the warmth of your new hoodie.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 50

part 1 | part 49 | ao3

cw: angst, canon-typical violence, period-typical homophobia

Steve gets the full story from Jeff later that night.

After Eddie and Wayne come out of the bathroom — after Eddie goes straight to his room and shuts the door without so much as a glance in Steve's direction, after Wayne clears his throat and suggests they all clear out and give the kid a night to cool off — Steve drags himself back to his trailer and paces for a while. Tries not to feel horribly rejected, which is...

It's fucking ridiculous, is what it is.

Stupid to be focusing on his own dumb feelings right now.

Eddie's the one with a pulverized face.

So anyway, Jeff. Steve dials his number, and it feels weird that he even has his number at all — weirder still that, of all the guys in Corroded Coffin, he and Jeff have the most in common. Makes sense, though; Jeff's the only one who likes professional sports even a little.

"Hello?" Jeff's nasal voice comes over the line.

He sounds like his usual self — doesn't sound like he got pummeled, at least. Steve paces a tighter circle, says, "Hey, man, it's Steve."

Jeff makes a clipped noise. "You saw Eddie then?"

Furious heat crawls up the back of Steve’s neck, the image swimming red in his tunneled vision: the welt under Eddie's eye, the blood blooming on his chin. Someone did that to him.

Someone who needs to fucking pay for it.

“Yeah,” he seethes, trying to keep his voice down. “What the hell happened?"

Jeff sighs; launches into the vague version of events that he's allowed to tell — the version with no names and no identifying details, because Eddie made them swear not to tell Steve who was responsible.

"Sorry, man," he says when Steve presses for the third time; sounds like he means it, too. "Eddie seems to think you'd just land yourself in big boy jail if you knew, so…”

Steve clenches his jaw, his fists. Imagines fresh blood against his knuckles, how good it would feel to slam them into someone’s face; has a flashback of Billy Hargrove pinning him to a kitchen floor, laughing maniacally while his world went dull and dim.

…Goddammit. “He’s not wrong.”

So Steve listens, silent and helpless while Jeff tells him as much as he can about the mounting Satanic panic: how the townspeople are still grieving everyone who died last summer, how that grief is turning to paranoia, conspiracies about the destruction of the hospital and the fire at the mall, and now there are all these news articles coming out, whipping churchgoers into a frenzy over the queers and the occult, and the end result of all of it is that Eddie gets his ass beat in the alley behind a shitty dive bar.

All for having the nerve to wear a Black Sabbath shirt in public.

“Eddie said they stole something?” Steve prompts after a short silence.

"His amp,” Jeff says, and Steve sags in relief. At least it wasn’t the Warlock. He can replace an amp no problem. “They stole our fucking tip jar, too. Not there was much in it, man, but still.”

Fuckers, Steve thinks.

"Fuckers," Jeff spits, then sighs, "so much for being Christ-like, or whatever."

Steve chews his lip. Fiddles with his nails, hoping to work out a way to get Jeff to give him names. He only knows one name that comes to mind, but he can’t just go pummeling people on a hunch.

“If you ask me again,” Jeff says, “I’m hanging up.”

Well, damn. He slouches back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. "The rest of you are alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're good. We were loading the van when it happened.” Another short, derisive sound. “Of course they waited to corner him when he was alone."

"So they planned this," Steve says, and the name in his head is practically flashing on a marquee. Jason Carver and his lackeys at that party back in November. The back of Jason’s head at the midnight mass they snuck into. Is this freak bothering you?

Steve’s voice is a lethal whisper. "Do you think they'll do it again?"

"Steve—"

“Do,” he repeats, “you think” —Hopper’s ghost in his mouth, authoritative and slow— “they'll do it again?"

Jeff lets out a long breath, his words wobbly with nerves. "I don't know, dude. Probably not? One of them looked pretty freaked out by how messed up Eddie's eye was."

Steve tastes blood in his mouth.

Fucking better have.

Another silence falls, rustling and static sounds, and Jeff hesitates. "Listen, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"Nothing, just... Well. Eddie can get a little, um. A little weird, about people seeing him be, like, vulnerable and shit. So. Just a heads up."

Weird like hiding from his boyfriend? the petty part of Steve’s brain supplies. Weird like shutting his door without saying goodbye?

He tamps down hard on the hurt that bubbles up at the reminder, because—

Because Eddie’s seen him at his most pathetic too many times to count. Has seen him blubbering and soft and desperate for comfort; has offered it so eagerly without judgment or thought. And if Steve can’t do the same now, if Eddie thinks there’s shame to be found in it, then that means— that means…

He swallows the glass shard in his throat. “Thanks for the warning, man. For real.”

—

part 51

holy shit i can’t believe i wrote 50 parts of this

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[sciderman]

I was trying to read a very serious moment in a fic but it got derailed by the mega turbo ass cancer post popping into my head and I had to stop reading to laugh

she's not even that old but she's already a classic

i love wade having unreasonable biological fears regarding peter's reproductive system. despite being conceivably immortal, and (as far as we know) incapable of pregnancy. the man is terrified of what peter's dick might be capable of.

(i think he plays on it because he knows peter is kind of scared of his biology too and wade wants peter to know how ridiculous that is.)

peter thinks his biology is freaky and he's embarrassed about it. he apologises for it. he's so sorry for being gross.

so i think sometimes wade doubles down to make peter see how ridiculous it is that peter's afraid of his own freaky body. i mean come on now. nobody has a freakier body than wade wilson.

[x]

so wade makes fun of peter for it. because he thinks it's ridiculous. it's all out of love. it's all out of love. he wants peter to know it's ridiculous that he's scared of his body. so he takes peter's fears and amps them up to 10000, so peter can see how ridiculous it is.

but, of course, in typical wade wilson fashion, he plays it so well, we don't know how serious he is or not.

[13thdoctorposts]

At some point 13 fans needs to actually put the numbers to paper on the era's audience numbers, because my recollection is that they're perfectly on par and at times even better than Capaldi's and several of the latest specials. I'm tired of haters whining about 'everyone hated it' when they mean misogynists targeted it and boycotted it from the very instance of a rumour that 13 would be a woman.

Peter Nolan from Blogtor Who did a post on the numbers after the airing of Power of the Doctor, in one section of the post he compares the Whittaker and Capaldi eras…

“It’s remarkable then, that the Whittaker era of Doctor Who is overall on course not only to retain the audience it was given, but actually very slightly grow it. The average Thirteenth Doctor was watched by 4.67m viewers, up 0.12m (2.6%) on the 4.55m average of the Twelfth Doctor. It’s median viewing figure of 4.21m, meanwhile, is 0.34m (7.4%) lower than Capaldi’s, representing the boost Whittaker’s average is given by the large audiences for her first series. But overall, we haven’t seen Doctor Who just do a respectable job all things considered. Rather, it actually got ratings that would be good a decade ago.”

You can check out the whole article here https://www.blogtorwho.com/doctor-who-power-of-the-doctor-viewing-figures/?amp=1

As you can see the Whittier era did quite well especially when considering it had to fight to get through the Pandemic, which people seem to like to act like isn’t a big deal with their revisionist history of how difficult that time actually was. Not only were millions dying and getting sick, people were losing their jobs and lock downs were keeping people at home and a number of parents learnt how hard it was to home school your child even with a teacher on zoom, some while also having to work full time at home. This isn’t to mention the ridiculous amount of restrictions on how they could make the show and keep everyone safe. Sadly they also just didn’t have budget, it was why they needed Disney to come in. In the Who Corner to Corner podcast Chibs talks about how he wanted to do a new years special after Flux but was told there was no budget and he couldn’t do it but he wanted there to be a new year special so he ask if he used monster from the cupboard (a couple daleks they had sitting there) a warehouse and only 2 guest stars could he do it and they still told him they didn’t think so but he told them they were doing it and then we got Eve of the Daleks, one of my fav episodes of the run.

This goes to show the show was struggling to afford to make episodes it had no real money for marketing. If series 12 and Flux got the marketing series 11 did of course we would have seen even bigger numbers but Chibs stated in his Radio Free Skaro podcast from Gally One in 2023 that the only marketing budget they had after series 11 was marketing that could be done on the BBC that’s extremely limiting. They also didn’t have a brand manager unlike all previous eras. If you can afford a brand manager you’re not going to choose to not have one and having one probably would have also help quite a bit.

It’s not 2008 anymore, even Tennent couldn’t pull his 2008 numbers and that was with the big Disney budget to make the show and market the show, and they had a year to market the show and the most well known Doctor, so considering that vs what Chibs had to work with the Whittaker era is a solid era of Doctor Who. It just came at a time when the Budget was struggling, and the TV landscape was changing along with a campaign to try and destroy it before it began simply because they chose a Woman to be the Doctor, as demonstrated by the fact the BBC had to release a press statement backing Whittakers casting and the change to a Female Doctor. And that did have a snow ball effect of people picking everything apart to an insane level they do not do with any of the episodes from the male Doctors episodes a lot of which could be seen as far more problematic.

All this to say could the numbers had been better? Yes, if they had budget to market the show the way it needs to be marketed in a landscape with a million competing shows on far more streaming services than there were regular channels back in the day. But did the show do well with the limited resources it had. Also Yes.

[unclewaynemunson]

Tadaaaa here is the sequel to this post, which came from an ask that got me in a chokehold for days now so kudos to the lovely anon who sent that prompt to me! You can also read the whole thing on ao3 :)

As soon as Eddie got into the passenger seat of his Wayne's truck, he saw the whole world go blurry. He tried to blink away his tears, but it was no use – nothing ever escaped his uncle's notice anyway.

'Wanna tell me what's wrong, boy?' he asked while he started the car.

Eddie grimaced. 'You know how they say you should never meet your heroes?'

'Hm?'

'Well, I met mine. On the fucking train. Just yet.'

Wayne shot him an incredulous glance.

'What was the Black Sabbath guy doin' on a train?'

'What? No, it wasn't... No.'

'The Hobbits guy?'

'Jesus Christ, Wayne, Tolkien died like fifteen years ago, keep up.'

'You want me to keep guessin' or you gonna tell me?'

Eddie rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, no, you wouldn't guess it right anyway. It's this poet.'

'Don't think I ever heard you talk 'bout poetry before,' Wayne remarked.

And that was exactly the thing. Ronan Right had been something... private. Something between Eddie and the faceless blob in his mind that embodied Right – and maybe Jeff. Okay, and Jeff's mom. But it wasn't someone he'd talk people's ears off about on any occasion he got, like he did with plenty of other musicians or writers that he'd get all obsessive about.

Until Steve, that was. Steve, who had been casually listening to his music. Steve, who had recognized the book in his hands and effortlessly opened the floodgates of his obsession. Steve, who had said the most beautiful things about Corroded Coffin without even knowing who Eddie was. Steve, who had talked with him about their shared passions for hours. Steve, who he now somehow had to merge with Right in his mind.

Steve, who seemed so perfect that it made all of Eddie's alarm bells go off at the loudest possible volume. Because this couldn't be real. This was something straight from a disgustingly sweet romcom scenario, and if there was anything Eddie could be certain about, it was that his life was no romcom.

So during the short walk from the station to Wayne's car, Eddie's head had already come up with a dozen scenarios that were completely spiraling out of control – even though they'd all make for great songs, no doubt about that. Steve would die some kind of tragic death on his way to their first date. Steve was secretly addicted to crack. Steve was a stalkerish fan who had lied to him about being Ronan Right to get close to him. Steve would cheat on him on their wedding day.

The list of possibilities was endless and terrifying – while the list of possibilities for this having a happy ending, on the other hand, was exceptionally short.

'Was it that bad?' asked Wayne while they headed out of the city.

Usually, Eddie enjoyed amping up his dramatics to a maximum around Wayne, providing the much-needed balance to his uncle's calm and steady demeanor. But right now, Eddie felt himself deflate in his seat. He couldn't bring himself to make a show out of it.

'No,' he said, quietly. 'He was perfect.'

And Wayne must've heard it in his voice, must've picked up right away that this wasn't Eddie being dramatic, that something serious was going on here, because he gave him this look that was cutting way too deep into his heart.

'Nobody can be that perfect, you know,' Eddie continued. 'It's impossible. And he – he gave me his number. And I just know that if I call it, and we get to know each other better, I'll get crushingly disappointed sooner rather than later. Because something has to be, like, disturbingly wrong with this guy.'

Anyone else than Wayne would probably tell Eddie that he was being ridiculous, that he should get over himself and call Steve; that he should allow himself to let good things happen to him or some shit. But Wayne wasn't just anyone. Wayne was the one person who knew exactly what Eddie meant. The one person who had seen from up-close the shitshow that Eddie's life had been, who had retained a front row seat through all of it. And he had had his own fair share of misery himself, Eddie knew that much. He was too old and had gotten punched down too many times to still hold naive illusions of the possibility of good things.

So he didn't give him some bullshit advice. He merely patted Eddie's knee and turned up the radio.

---

Ever since Eddie had left Hawkins, it had become a habit of him to stay with Wayne for a couple of weeks every now and then. For all his desires to get the hell out of that town when he was younger, he still spent way too much time at his uncle's trailer. But it wasn't Hawkins that he came back for, it was uncle Wayne.

It was home. And it helped him breathe whenever the city got too intense. Helped him get detached from everything that distracted him from the shit that actually mattered. Helped him get his head right when Chicago was threatening to make him lose it.

Time seemed to move differently in Hawkins than in the city. Slower. More naturally, too, somehow. Maybe it was because of the lack of nightlife and flashing neon signs when the world was supposed to be wrapped in darkness. The fact that he could still see the stars when he stepped out of the trailer at nighttime. Maybe it was the quiet, which allowed him to actually hear himself think. Or maybe it was the predictability of it all: Wayne waking him up with a cup of coffee in the morning, the two of them sharing cigarettes on the porch, Eddie helping Wayne with some chores and then trying to write new songs until well into the night, when the world was his and his alone.

He kept reading Right almost religiously, but it was different, now. Now that he could hear Steve's voice say those words, now that he could envision the way in which the sun shone on his hair through the dirty train window and the shape of his hands clutching a walkman that had Eddie's music in it. It was all different.

After a week, Eddie had a whole album worth of songs about the deception of things that seemed perfect. He hadn't been able to write even one song about things ending well, about things working out. That wasn't his life. Things never worked out. Why would they, for a boy born in a household where the trifecta of poverty, addiction and violence was all he had ever known? In the five albums he had produced so far, he'd never experienced a lack of demons to write about.

So no, he wouldn't be calling Steve, even though he had read the number that was written down on the sleeve of his own album so often that it'd probably be impossible to ever erase it from his mind again. He'd protect himself, this time. He'd cherish the hours he got to spend with Ronan Right, the memories that were already starting to feel like a fever dream, and not let his heart break any further. Not this time. Not again.

---

'Got mail for ya.'

An envelope landed in Eddie's lap.

'What's this?'

'I dunno, 's your mail,' Wayne answered.

Eddie didn't recognize the handwriting and the Indianapolis post stamp didn't give him much of a clue either. It didn't make sense that someone would send him a letter at his uncle's place.

He frowned, roughly tore open the envelope and pulled a single sheet of paper out of it. It was neither directed at nor signed by anyone, but that wasn't necessary for Eddie to know who sent it.

'What is it, boy?' Wayne asked, a worried edge to his voice upon hearing the choked sob that freed itself from Eddie's throat.

Eddie knew that the words were only meant for him. But he and Wayne were a unit, always had been, ever since Eddie moved into Forest Hills. So he wordlessly handed the paper to his uncle, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes.

Wayne assessed the text with a wrinkled forehead, holding the paper at an arm's-length in order to read it.

'That from the boy you met on the train?'

Eddie nodded.

When his uncle looked up from the letter, Eddie caught an almost unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was soft, hopeful. Optimistic.

'You know I ain't any good with words, like you, or this – this poet,' Wayne said. 'But this...' He pressed the letter back into Eddie's hand. 'This looks like he knows you, Ed. Like he sees you. For all that you are.'

He didn't tell Eddie what to do; that wasn't his style, never had been. But what he did say kept bouncing through Eddie's head unceasingly, making him unable to sleep, unable to write, unable to think about anything else.

---

Eddie desperately wanted to say something meaningful when Steve picked up the phone. He wanted to thank him for reaching out, to apologize for being too much of a coward to call earlier – but what came out of his mouth instead was, 'How did you know where to find me?'

'Eddie, is that you?' It sounded like Steve didn't quite believe it.

'Yeah – yeah, it's me,' was the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth.

'Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped,' Steve told him. 'I just – I couldn't get you out of my head and it all felt so right, you know, like fate or some shit, so I just had to... I needed to try. And I knew your name, and that you were staying with your uncle, so I got help from some friends and they managed to find your uncle's address.'

And as if Eddie hadn't been enough of an emotional wreck over the past week, his vision got blurry with tears yet again.

'Sorry, was it – did I go too far?' Steve sounded nervous.

Eddie could perfectly envision the way he would be frowning and anxiously running a hand through his hair; as if they had already shared a whole lifetime of getting to know all about each other's mannerisms instead of a few stolen hours on a train.

He hated the idea of Steve thinking he had done something wrong when all he ever did was so fucking right, so he determinedly shook his head, then realized Steve wouldn't be able to see that, and started scraping for words.

'No, Steve, you... You're perfect. And that scared the shit out of me, because so far, my life hasn't really done perfect. Most of our songs, they're – well – creative retellings of my own shit.' Now that he started talking, the words actually came a lot easier. 'They're all real, at the core, when you peel away the layers of, like, monster slaying and fantasy imagery. Like, everything underneath all that, it's all... me. Damage, betrayal, fear, violence – all that shit is true. Life hasn't been kind to me, Steve. And I was convinced that you'd only become an addition to that long list of crap, because you seemed way too perfect. I never thought I could have something good. And you're good, Steve, you're so fucking good. So I couldn't believe it.'

A long silence ensued at the other side of the line. Then, a sigh.

Then, 'Eddie,' in the softest voice possible, like his name was something breakable. Eddie didn't remember ever having heard his name said like that.

'I think that was exactly what I heard in your songs. Why I kept listening to them. Why they inspired me so much.'

Eddie tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, suffocated by the emotions bubbling up inside of him.

'I wish I could hold you, right now.'

Eddie's breath caught. He knew exactly what he needed to do: he needed to stop running. He needed to trust that Steve could be right, for him. That Steve could be something good.

'I mean, you could come over to Hawkins and do just that, you know,' he suggested.

'D'you want me to?'

He nodded, again forgetting that Steve couldn't see him.

'Yeah, I'd like that. Probably still got half that cookie somewhere in my pocket, y'know. Maybe we could share it.'

Credit where credit is due: the line “He sees you, for all that you are” isn't mine, it's one of my favorite quotes from Schitt's Creek and I really wanted Wayne to say that to Eddie about Steve, so here we have it <3

@ My beloved 🥐 anon: I hope you like this ending, and that I came close enough to your suggestion to have Steve make Eddie a character in his next poem <3

Taglist: @kathorakiryu @goodolefashionedloverboi @undreaming-rambles @fangirlycupcake @ghouligans-central @henderdads @dolphincliffs @anglhrts @ajamlessbaby @yearningagain @vampireinthesun @xxbottlecapx @kissaphobic-kas @mad-h-w @booksandsience @obsessivlyme @ppunkpuppyy @barnes-bestgirl @capital-p-platonic​ @eddiemunsonmeltdowns @callme-keys​​

[certifiedtrashmouth]

Oh gosh I don’t wanna repeat someone and I’m not sure about Xmas traditions but what about ridiculous stocking stuffers w Eddie? Fluff/humor.

oh, god. this one also got out of hand. started in light-hearted fun and ended in fluff that had me screaming into my pillow. i'm sorry for the length.

good for one kiss (eddie munson x reader)

warnings: none really. mentions of penis??? (eddie makes a joke about his dick and there's mention of a blowjob but no description lol), mentions of cigarettes, idiots in love. best friends to lovers.

“What am I supposed to do with a single piece of gum?” 

“What am I supposed to do with a single cigarette?” 

“Smoke it, idiot.”

“It’s broken, idiot.” 

“Oh.” 

You and Eddie sit cross-legged across from each other on his bed on Christmas Eve, partaking in your annual gift exchange. But there was a catch; each year, you exchanged stockings, only gifting each other what you could fit in the glorified, fleece-lined socks. There had only been two exceptions to the rule of the years - the year you’d gifted Eddie his first professional-grade amp and he’d bawled like a baby (once he’d dried his tears, he’d threatened you and Wayne both endlessly about ever letting the story leave the room. The two of you had exchanged a look, though, knowing neither of you would ever let him live it down.) and the year Eddie had bought you your first acoustic six-string with the promise of lessons from him (it was onyx black and shined with promise as Eddie explained the two of you needed to use paint markers to decorate it). 

It was going on five years of the tradition that had stemmed from both of you never being able to afford much for each other, but still wanting to show you care nevertheless. And as the years had gone on, the gifts had slowly found their rhythm. There was always a perfect mixture of cliche throwaway gifts, gag gifts, and gifts so sentimental that some tears were sure to be shed by one of the parties. 

“I didn’t think it would break,” you scrunch your nose slightly as Eddie holds up the cigarette, limp from the crack in the middle of it. 

“What did you expect, just throwing it in here like that?” Eddie laughs, not bothered in the slightest. He had a pack of Camels snug in the pocket of his leather jacket slung over his desk chair. It was the thought that counted, after all. 

“I expected it to be absolutely fucking invincible for how expensive the pack was,” you whine, and he can’t help but watch you with bemusement, “I spent my last dollar from my tips on that damn pack.” 

The mention of that softens the look in Eddie’s eyes. He knew the two of you struggled to come up with enough money to even keep up this tradition; he had hardly seen you due to how many spare shifts you’d been picking up at Benny’s the last few weeks. 

You catch the look, immediately straighten up, “No, no, no. Don’t even go there, Munson. I can see you going there. Come back to me, idiot.” 

Idiot. The term of endearment you’d coined for him since you’d first met in sophomore year of high school. He’d heard it in a dozen different tones - elated, annoyed, exhausted - but not a single one held an ounce of genuine negativity towards him. You made idiot sound like my love. 

He wasn’t your lover, though. He kicked himself in the shins every morning over it, always telling himself that today was the day and I’m going to tell her how I feel finally. 

Spoiler alert. He never did. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he offers up his own loving nickname for you, “I just know you’ve been busting your ass at Benny’s-” 

“Yes, I have, because I want to spoil you for the holidays. I don’t regret a single second of it. Even when those creepy old men tried to shove the dollar bills in my shirt rather than just hand them to me.”

You both laugh at the memory. It hadn’t been very funny when it happened, leading to you calling Eddie crying and him coming to your rescue, but enough time had passed to see the humor in it all. 

The rest of the gift exchange goes as expected for the most part. The gag gifts pull the appropriate amount of laughter, and the more genuine gifts pull a softness out of each other that nearly had each of your eyes’ pupils forming hearts. 

Eddie fawns over a pack of pics you’d had customized with Corroded Coffin’s logo, and you react just as bluntly as expected when you pull a long red candle from your stocking, looking up to Eddie blankly. 

“For when I finally sacrifice you in the woods,” he explains with a cheesy grin, “Gotta have candles if we’re going to worship Satan, sweetheart.” 

“Ha-ha,” you dead pan, tilting your head slightly as you keep a straight face, completely unimpressed, “You’re hilarious, Munson.” 

“Hey, I could have made a sex joke,” he throws up his hands in a defensive manner, shrugging his shoulders and looking to the ground in faux shyness. 

“Yeah, yeah - you could have made a sex joke,” you mumble as you shove the candle to the side, a smile still escaping the corners of your mouth. 

“As a matter of fact, I still can. Don’t think I didn’t notice the fact that you replaced my stocking this year, darling, and that it’s noticeably larger. Finally big enough to fit over my massive dic-” 

“You’re disgusting,” you interrupt, grabbing the candle and now whacking one of his knees with it, making him fall victim to an uncontrollable giggling fit, “Have you ever been told that? Let me be the first to tell you - you’re absolutely vile, Edward Munson.” 

You don’t mean it, and he knows you don’t. You’re both laughing too much over it. 

You’re starting to get to the bottom of the stockings now. You each have an odd arrangement of candy that had been included in each respective stocking - Eddie is socking on a blue jolly rancher, being sure to make annoying slurping noises to get a rise out of you, as you nibble on a miniature candy cane. There’s only one gift left in your stocking, a small box that you only reach for once you rewrap the candy cane in the plastic wrap it’d come in that you’d saved to avoid getting sticky fingers. 

“What’s this?” you ask, pulling it out and letting the empty stocking fall into your lap. 

Eddie looks up from where he was preoccupied with attempting to open another jolly rancher. His eyes light up from the present in your palm, “Oh, only saving the best one for last, sweet thing.” 

You look at him questioningly, but begin to slide your finger under the delicate edge of the small box regardless. It takes concentration to pry open the box without tearing it, but you do, you gasp. 

In a bed of cotton, there’s a necklace. 

It looks like a copy of Eddie’s signature pick necklace. But instead of the dark swirling black between clouds of burgundy red, it shines with pearlescent opal white and ruby red, glimmering on a silver chain as if it were made of jewels. 

When you gently lift it from the box, it’s clear it’s not a real pick. It’s heavier - Hell, it might actually be made of gemstones. 

“Eddie-” you gasp, cutting yourself off, mesmerized by the beauty. 

He’s nearly shaking with delight, “It’s a locket. Look, open it.” 

You see what he means immediately, realizing that the weight was from the thickness of the faux pick. There’s a subtle seam, with a silver lock on the side that clicks gently when you press on it. The locket swings open, and inside is a snug photo of you and Eddie. You can pinpoint exactly when the photo was taken; it was at your birthday party two years ago, both of you laughing with cake icing on the tips of your nose. The photo is in dramatic black and white, but you can still picture how obnoxiously red your cheeks were with Eddie’s arm slung around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you two lost it over God knows what. 

You feel yourself beginning to tear up, completely stunned, “I- Oh my God, Eddie. I don’t know what to say.”

“You can start with how I’m the best friend ever,” he cheekily grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you let out a breathless laugh. 

“It’s…God, it’s beautiful. This- This is too much, Eddie. I can’t imagine how expensive-”

“Nope,” he cuts you off quickly, waving his hands frantically, refusing to listen to your lecture. He didn’t care if it had cost him everything he owned, down to the clothes on his back - it was worth it to see that look on your face. “Don’t even start, sweetheart. One of Wayne’s friends at the plant has a wife who makes jewelry for a living. We got the family discount because she thought the idea was so dang adorable,” his voice pitches to mock the mystery woman, and it makes you tearily laugh some more. 

You look back down at the open locker, finger tracing over the opposite side from the photo. 

E. It’s engraved in cursive. As if you’d ever forget the initial of the boy in the photo - the boy in front of you. 

“You really had to choose the photo that made me look like a dork, didn’t you?” you softly tease under your breath, staring at the memory in unfiltered fondness. 

“Someone’s got to keep you humble,” he retorts. 

You ignore his comment, standing quickly and holding the necklace out to him, “Help me put it on?” 

He doesn’t hesitate to leap off the bed to your side, taking the chain gingerly before you turn and face your back to him. His movements are careful and deliberate as he brushes your hair off to the side, cold fingers skimming over your skin and sending shivers down your spine before he loops the necklace around the front of your chest. You can feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp for a few moments before finding success. 

“Aha! Perfect,” he claps as you spin around, grinning giddily at the weight that sits naturally between your collarbones. It gives you a sense of security, a sense of comfort, a sense of home. 

“Thank you, Eddie,” you earnestly say, voice crumbling with emotions as your smile shines and you lift a hand to pinch the necklace between two fingers. The locket is smooth as you rub over it, “I love it.” 

His face reflects your happiness right back before you suddenly throw yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He returns it immediately, squeezing you back just as strongly. You both melt into the hug, comfortable as you eventually beginning to just-barely-sway in the middle of Eddie’s room, chests pressed together as hearts beat in sync. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair before placing a chaste kiss on your temple. 

“Merry Christmas, Eds.” 

You finally pull away, both of you returning to your original positions on the bed. Gifts are scattered around you, mixing with candy and wrappers, as Eddie pulls up his stocking and begins to shake it upside down. 

“There’s not any more gifts, Eddie, you already opened them-” you cut yourself off, the smile that had your cheeks aching still fading when a piece of paper flutters from his stocking. 

Oh no. 

“No more gifts, you say?” he smirks in your direction, picking up the folded note, “What’s this, then?” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’d forgotten about that. When you’d been wrapping Eddie’s gifts the night before, Robin had joined you to keep you company. The two of you had broken into a few bottles of wine around the house when you had a bright idea (at least, at the time it seemed bright. Now, it was the dumbest idea you’d ever had. Ever.). Coupons for Eddie, ranging from redemption for kisses to redemption for more… explicit acts. To be fair, Robin had egged you on, knowing of your hopeless crush of two years on your best friend. You’d folded each ‘coupon’ and sealed them with kisses from red lipstick the two of you had dug out of your desk drawers. You’d chickened out when the buzz from the wine faded, and pulled all of the ridiculous notes out before properly filling the stocking with his actual gifts. 

Or at least, you thought you’d gotten all of the notes out. Clearly, you hadn’t. 

“Don’t open that!” you blurt out, lurching forward and attempting to snatch the paper from Eddie. It only makes his smirk grow, hand shooting out away from you, glancing wildly between you and the kiss-stained paper. 

“Now you’ve really got me curious,” he mocks, pulling a face at you as he brings the paper back to his face, beginning to unfold it. 

“No, Eddie, seriously, don’t read it. Please. It was so stupid, I- Robin and I were drinking, and I just…” you trail off in your explanation as he completely disregards you and his eyes trail over your scribbled words. 

You didn’t even know which one had been left behind. You could only hope it was one of the less vulgar ones. 

“Is this a joke?” he asks softly. You’re shocked - you’d expected merciless teasing. Not whatever look was currently in his eyes. 

“What?” you ask, trying to peer over to see what the paper said. Depending on which dumb coupon it was, your answer would change, “I- Sort of. Maybe. No. I don’t know.” 

You begin to wring your hands in your lap, waiting for him to respond. You felt so nauseated you considered escaping to the bathroom. Maybe you could die of embarrassment in the Munson men’s bathtub. 

But then you remember it’s the Munson men’s bathtub, and decide the better fate may lay here, Eddie glancing up at you with moving curiosity, eyebrows furrowed. 

Your cheeks burn crimson as you wish for the Earth to swallow you whole. 

“Yes or no? Is it a joke?” he asks again, a stern tone that manages to not come across angry. 

Your stomach and chest twist in sync, “No. It isn’t a joke.” 

Suddenly, Eddie is taking the note and thrusting it towards you, eyes blown wide and chest heaving. 

“Then I’d like to redeem it now, please.” 

You don’t realize it, but the room had started spinning the moment Eddie had read what was written down. It felt like a dream - a dream he’d indulged in with no hopes of it ever coming true for an embarrassingly long amount of time now. 

Your hands shake as you reach out to take the note from him, and you look down to see just how much drunk you had screwed you over in this moment. 

In your messy handwriting, it reads: Coupon for Eddie Munson - good for one (1) kiss. To be redeemed at Eddie’s discretion. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful it wasn't a vulgar one, before the reality of what Eddie had just requested hits you.  

“Did you just- did you just say you want to redeem it now?” 

Eddie nods, a determined look crossing his face, “Yes, please.” 

You both stare at each other for a moment, letting the emotions in the air sink in. It takes a moment before you both break out into withheld, shy smiles. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Before you can overthink it, you’re both leaning forward, Eddie’s hands cupping your cheeks as his lips meet yours tenderly. It’s just a peck, nothing more, but it sends your heart into cardiac arrest. You can still taste the jolly ranchers on his lips, and he tastes the sweet mint of the candy cane on yours. 

You both pull back slightly, his hands not leaving your face, knees pressing together. Your eyes had fluttered close, and you don’t have the guts to open them quite yet and face the consequences of what had just happened between the two of you. 

“I like you,” you admit quietly, your entire body tensing as you await rejection.

It doesn’t come. Instead, you’re met with the sound of Eddie’s gentle voice, “I like you, too.” 

Your eyes finally spring open to already find him staring at you with adoration. “You do?” 

“Of course I do, sweetheart. I let you touch my first sweetheart. I only give that privilege to the prettiest of girls,” he laughs, eyes flickering to your lips but still keeping his distance. 

“You’ve only let me have that privilege.” 

“Exactly.” 

He finally closes the distance again, lips slotting against yours as if they’re meant to be. Something clicks in the Universe, something that says that this is right and meant to happen. Two years of silent and hopeless pining, only to find out both your feelings were returned. It leaves the two of you delirious as you both deepen the kiss. Somehow, Eddie ends up scooting up his bed until his back meets the wall where his headboard would be if he had one, you straddling his lap. It’s all still so innocent; just the two of you, soft and sickly sweet kisses as you hold one another as if you expect the other to vanish. 

“Merry Christmas, Eds,” you repeat your earlier statement and reach up to his gifted locket on instinct now. It feels right. You and him this close, you and him kissing, the photo of you resting against your chest where it belongs. 

“Best Christmas ever,” he chuckles before he captures you in another kiss. 

He’s right. It’s safe to say the two of you struggle to ever top that Christmas. You make it a running joke to always include coupons in his stocking from that year on. Each year, the coupons get better, sometimes raunchy and sometimes just downright adorable. 

Good for one cuddle. 

Good for one blowjob (don’t waste it).

Good for one surprise date night. 

They’re always fairly clever, and each year, he thinks you get closer to topping that first note. 

But it’s not until years down the road, when the two of you sit across from each other in your now shared living room, in some big city you now call home, that he knows that he had finally topped that year. The look on your face when you dig into the bottom of your stocking, finding the small box that contains the diamond ring he’d been saving up for ever since that first kiss, tells him everything he needs to know. 

It’s still pretty nice when he hears you squeal yes out loud, though.

[ladyluscinia]

Ok. Ok. Time to put my thoughts in order about S2 and we're starting at literally the first scene because whoo boy is there a lot going on that I like.

So. Stede's Fantasy Pirate Rescue aka this show having no illusions about Stede's fuck ups and where the story-driving conflict is coming from (*cough* Stede and Edward themselves *cough*)

It opens with what frankly a concerning amount of fandom seemed to view as the solution to all the problems of S1 - namely a Stede vs Izzy swordfight. Stede is really going all in on his dashing pirate hero fantasy. He has the beard. The sword skills. He gets his sword knocked out of his hand (again) but this time it ends on a witty one liner and stabbing Izzy with a concealed knife before artfully claiming his cutlass. He even dramatically kills him! And, villain defeated, there's Ed running through the surf to embrace him! Everything is perfect and wonderful and conflict free - and it all collapses back into reality with Wee John literally farting all over it.

Pete even openly mocks his moaning "Ed, Ed" in his sleep!

Because it's a fantasy! A ridiculous one at that! And the truly fantastical bit isn't even the reunion, or Stede's heroics. No... The part that's absurd, that even Stede can't make himself believe in his own subconscious mind, is that there's a convenient external villain to all of this and he and Ed can just pick back up where they left off.

Fantasy!Izzy and Fantasy!Ed are basically barbie dolls in this dream, but you can watch Stede's awareness that this is truly just a comforting fantasy slipping through.

Fantasy!Izzy gets cast as the villain because why wouldn't he? Stede has disliked him going back to that conversation at Spanish Jackie's where he basically offloaded a bunch of his own issues on this random pirate guy for having bad vibes, Izzy did betray him specifically to the Navy, and the last thing his crew would have been able to tell him about was Izzy ordering his stuff tossed and rowing them to an island (on Blackbeard's orders, but that's easy enough for Stede to ignore). He's even got him putting on a villain voice!

But the line. The only fantasy character line in this entire dream that connects with the situation in reality instead of sounding like stock NPC responses. Stede defeats his villain and The Villain / Fantasy!Izzy / Stede's subconscious looks up from his knees and reminds him:

"I never made you leave him. You did that yourself."

And Stede kills him for saying it! Goes back to the comforting script where he demands to know where Ed is and Izzy calls him a twat! Shut up, subconscious, Stede needs to rescue his damsel!

And his damsel barbie doll is so happy to see him! Fantasy!Edward's lines are the most disconnected, NPC babble. It's hilarious 🤣

Fantasy!Ed: "I knew you'd find me, babe"

Stede: "You're not mad?"

Fantasy!Ed: "I knew you'd find me, love"

Stede: "So we're good? About everything?"

Fantasy!Ed: "Fucking love the beard, mate".

Can I mention how much I love the repetition there? Zero engagement in the conversation, totally amps up the NPC vibe.

Stede is begging his own dream to reassure him that he didn't hurt Ed that bad, to tell him Ed will be so happy to see him it will fix everything, and he doesn't get what he's looking for. Because it's not true. The show in fact laughs in the face of that interpretation. Stede's making up a idealized "fix" (being a dashing hero) for the BlackBonnet relationship, and even Stede knows it's bullshit.

Edward and Stede's relationship issues and personal struggles have a bodycount this season (R.I.P. Ivan 😭) and it's immensely satisfying that so far no one is inclined to pull their punches on this fact or foist the blame elsewhere.

Not even Stede's subconscious!

[banjomelodies]

Aw MAN tiktok mischaracterizes Scaramouche so much. Specifically as Wanderer (I sometimes see it with Scaramouche too).

(TW as I do mention abusive topics)

I've genuinely seen people go full force on the "oh, Wanderer would bully my whole team. Wanderer would be so mean! Wanderer—" and it's just. NO? Wanderer is a significantly mellowed out Scaramouche. If anything he wouldn't entirely give a damn about anyone he works with as long as they aren't ridiculously insufferable or take personal offense to what he calls brutal honesty. Instead of him literally physically harming or abusing the people who annoy him (like he would as the Balladeer), he just says a snarky comment. Like, I'm sorry, I don't think he's going to beat up your Freminet, or Mika.

Scaramouche is the type who would snap on one of them, especially since as the Balladeer, he saw little to no worth in humans (i mean come on, he turned on his two fatui agents in an instant when they said one thing that angered him. He was also implied a lot of the time to be an insufferable Harbinger). Wanderer is not the same. Wanderer probably still has a deep-rooted disdain, yes, it'd be hard to fully overcome something he believed in for so many decades, but he's well past taking his frustrations out on other people like that. He's literally trying to AMEND the horrific actions he's done. He wouldn't add more to it. Not to mention, he likely has a promise made to Nahida, who was willing to help him, to try his best to grow and change as a person, even if he doesn't think he can.

Now talking about Scaramouche in general, people amp up Scaramouches more toxic traits by twenty notches. Scaramouche is a toxic person. I will fully admit that. When I consider how lower Fatui agents act around him, he's definitely an awful person. But on the same hand, I don't think he'd be the sort who'd be abusive in romantic encounters. You're telling me, this man who was desperate for love and admiration and acceptance, would be beating and killing anyone who even dates him? Personally, I don't think so. I feel like he'd unintentionally be a bad partner. Perhaps saying things he shouldn't, or being distant, as he hasn't experienced anything positive or real since he was the Kabukimono. The Harbingers are all fake to eachother, so it's not like he's really used to having to be fully himself with another person. But I don't think he'd beat or maim his partners.

Maybe I'm blinded by my adoration for this character, but, I just don't get how some people look at him and go "Yeah that man would absolutely BEAT that traumatized teenager standing next to him for breathing the wrong way."

[masterofmunson]

prom queen

Eddie Munson x Guitarist!Fem!Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Your band gets chosen as the entertainment for prom, and Eddie’s jealously issues cloud your success.

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: none!

Listen While Reading: prom queen by beach bunny, let’s go crazy by prince, i want to know what love is by foreigner, take my breath away by berlin, footloose by kenny loggins, keep on loving you by reo speedwagon, i ran by a flock of seagulls, and let’s dance by david bowie

Author’s Note: Well.... I didn’t think I’d ever write for Stranger Things ever again and here were are two years later... oops! Let me know what you think!

“Eddie, I don’t know what you want me to do,” you sighed. “The prom committee asked me and I said yes. I can’t back out now. Prom is tomorrow.”

You move around your garage, busying yourself by gathering up your guitar and amps that you’ll use for tomorrow. You don’t want to look at Eddie. You don’t want to see the hurt in his eyes.

“What do you mean you can’t back out? You can! Corroded Coffin can replace you,” Eddie said.

Your jaw ticks and for the first time since Eddie arrived at your home, you look at him. Your eyes narrow at his ridiculous request. This wasn’t about you; this was about Eddie. He was jealous that prom committee reached out to you, an alum of Hawkins High, to play for their prom instead of Eddie and his band, who’s still at the school. It’s not your fault that they didn’t want a heavy metal band as the entertainment for the night.

“Seriously, Eddie?” you snapped. “We all came home for the weekend just to play tomorrow. I’m not backing out because my boyfriend is jealous that his band wasn’t picked for prom. You’re being ridiculous.”

He glares at you. “I’m not jealous.”  

A bitter laugh escapes your mouth and you cross your arms over your chest. “Oh, really? Why can’t you just be happy for me? You play at the Hideout all the time and I’m there to support you whenever I can and I’m not jealous that I can’t play there.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“It’s for people that listen to heavy metal, not for people like you.”

Your brows pinch together at his insinuation. Just because your band doesn’t perform heavy metal music doesn’t mean you’re any less of a band. Even though the music wasn’t necessarily something you listened to, you went anyway because you love Eddie and want to support him. He asks you to be there when your busy schedule allows and you’re always at the front of the crows when you can. You just want him to do that for you.

“I don’t go to the Hideout for me,” you barked at him, “I go for you. I go because I want to support you and because I love you, not because I don’t listen to heavy metal music.”

Your words fill the space between you and Eddie just stares at you. You don’t know what else to say. What could you say? You’re not going to beg him to understand you. You’re not going to beg him to come to prom just to support you when he doesn’t mean it. There’s no point in asking, but you do anyway.

“Should I even bother asking if you would come to prom for me or is that too much to ask?”

“I’m not going if I’m not playing,” he answered petulantly.

Your cold façade momentarily crumbles. It was too much to ask for him to go to prom for you and you still asked, hoping he would say yes, anyway. The disappointment and sadness you feel at his cold response pulls at your chest. You won’t show how much it hurts.

“Go home, Eddie.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s said all he needed to and his lack of understanding hurts more than anything. He turns his back to you and walks out of the garage towards his van. The sputtering of the engine roars in your ears as he drives away.

You close the garage door and head to your room. Only when you close the door and lay on your bed do you allow yourself to cry.

….

“Is Eddie coming tonight?” Daphne asked as you carried the amps into the gym.

You shake your head. “No. He said that if Corroded Coffin wasn’t playing, he wasn’t coming,” you mumbled.

Daphne scoffs and rolls her eyes. She wasn’t a fan of him and now that she knows he isn’t coming to support you, he’s all but dead in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything but you know her and you know what she wants to say. You just don’t want to hear it and you rather not talk about it.

You don’t know what’s gotten into him. You thought he would be happy for you and thrilled that you were coming home for the weekend. You hadn’t seen each other since spring break and you were eager to come home and spend the limited time you had with him. You missed him and the phone calls and letters you shared wasn’t enough. You probably wouldn’t see him for the rest of the weekend.

You work quietly as you help set up the stage for the night. Daphne, Zoe, and Tori bring in their instruments as you plug the amps in and grab the mic stands from one of the gym closets along with the microphones. You tape the set list on the floor of the stage and tinker with the cords on the floor.

When you walk out of the gym to your car, you’re surprised to see none other than Dustin Henderson leaning against the trunk. You smile softly as he waves at you. “Hey, Dusty,” you greeted him as you pull him in for a hug he eagerly returns.

“I heard you were home for the weekend,” he grinned. “Are you playing tonight for prom?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, peeking around your trunk to make sure you had everything. “It’s good to see you.”

“Sick. I’m sure Eddie’s excited to see you tonight.”

“Oh, he’s not coming.”

Dustin frowns. “Why not?”

You debate lying to him. Dustin worships the ground Eddie walks on. You don’t want the fight you had with Eddie to taint how Dustin sees him. You don’t want to bring him into your problems. He shouldn’t be involved but you don’t want to lie to him.

“He doesn’t want to come because he’s not the one playing tonight,” you answered. “I’m not going to force him to come when he doesn’t want to.”

The frown on Dustin’s face deepens. “That’s stupid, he’s your boyfriend. He should come to support you.”

You shrug at his response. You don’t know what to say. You want Eddie to come more than anything, but you weren’t going to force him. He’s going to do whatever he wants and you are too.

“I gotta get back, but it was good to see you, Dustin.”

He nods in reply and you return to the gym.

….

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You never thought you would wear your senior year prom dress again. You thought it was a cool idea and a great homage to the night since you were a Hawkins graduate. Daphne and the rest of the band were just as excited to wear their old dresses too.

You teased your hair and put on matching magenta eyeshadow to go with the dress. You felt ridiculous and a sense of déjà vu washes over you. When you went to your senior prom just a year prior, you’d gone with Steve Harrington.

He was a good sport and an even better friend to you after that. Nancy Wheeler had broken up with him a few weeks prior and you broke up with a former boyfriend around the same time. You both purchased tickets already and decided to go with each other. It was only a few weeks before you’d run into Eddie at the local record store and soon after start dating.

“Hey, are you almost ready? They want us on in five minutes,” Daphne said, poking her head into the bathroom. She stares at you through the mirror.

“Yeah,” you said, squaring your shoulders and exit the bathroom.

You head back to the gym and climb on to the stage. You look out into the audience and the gym’s transformation. Tables line the outside of the gym, covered in table cloths and ornate centerpieces. Decorations cover the cinder block walls and the photo booth sits beside the food and drink tables. The front of the gym leaves an empty space for the dance floor. The tables are full of students dressed in coordinating suits and gowns.  

You swallowed hard and grab your guitar off the stand. You let out a careful breath before setting the strap on your shoulder. The lights shine on the stage and you move from side to side before leaning towards the mic.

“Hi everyone, we’re the Rose Pedals and the prom committee gave us $75 bucks to perform here. If you don’t like us, too bad. This is Prom Queen,” you said into the mic as the audience laughs at your introduction.

Your fingers strike the strings of your guitar with incredible ease as Daphne starts with the drums, Zoe with her bass guitar, and Tori on her keyboard.

You watch as people stand up from their seats at the tables around the gym and head to the dance floor. As the song ends and you transition into the next song, people start to dance as you play more familiar songs.

Every once in a while, you’ll survey the crowd, hoping to see Eddie in the sea of students. You thought in vain that he would have time to cool off before coming to his senses and coming to prom to support you. He would be standing near the back with a bouquet of flowers in his hands with an apology ready.

As you near the halfway point of the set, the belief that Eddie would show up all but disappears. You stop looking around the gym hoping he would be there. If you got too in your head, you would make mistakes and you don’t want to let your friends down.

Just before the last song starts, you look into the crowd one last time. To your surprise, you see Eddie standing near the back. He’s wearing a worn-down tuxedo that’s a little loose on him and he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. He smiles softly at you and waves.

Despite how you left things, you can’t help the smile that graces your face. You turn to your friends to make sure they were ready for the last song. They nod at you before Tori starts on her keyboard before everyone else joins in.

When the song ends everyone stands near the edge of the stage and you bow as the audience cheers for you. The lights to the gym turn on and the students start to spill outside. You step behind the backdrop of the stage and take a large sip of water as your friends join you in the back. You reach for your keys in the pocket of your bag.

“I’ll go pull up the car,” you said, “I’ll be right back.”

You prop open the back door of the gym and walk through the parking lot to get to your car. You stop in the middle of the lot when you notice Eddie leaning against the trunk of your car. Your eyes meet his and you slowly approach him. You swallow hard and rock back on your beat-up converse.

“Hi,” you murmured quietly, scratching your arm.

“Hi,” Eddie whispered back, swallowing hard. “I brought these for you.”

He hands you a bouquet of beautiful red roses and scratches the back of his head.

“You said you weren’t coming.”

“I did but I realized how unfair I was being to you. You’ve been nothing but supportive to me, and I should’ve been the same to you. I’m sorry,” he apologized sincerely. His deep brown eyes meet yours and he takes a step towards you. “I was a dick and made it about me. I know one apology isn’t going to cut it for the things I said, but I’m hoping it’s enough for you to start to forgive me. I’m sorry.”

You know he’s sorry for the things he said and you’re glad he came to apologize, even when you know that it’s hard for him to admit when he’s wrong. He still hurt your feelings and you don’t know if the remnants of his jealousy will ever go away when you get an opportunity and he doesn’t.

“I don’t know what to say, Eddie,” you whispered. “You hurt my feelings and even though I’m glad you came despite what you said to me, but some part of me still thinks you don’t want to see me succeed.”

Eddie’s frown deepens and he shakes his head adamantly. “Oh, baby, oh no. Of course, I want to see you succeed! I’m just jealous of your success, even if it’s performing at prom. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I will have other opportunities to play with the band just like you will with yours. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and Eddie reaches for your face. His thumbs brush against the tops of your cheeks before he lets a hand rest against the back of your neck. A few tears slip out and he’s quick to swipe them away.

You wrap your arms around his torso and hug him tightly. “I’m so proud of you. You did amazing and I’m glad I could be there for you. I promise to never make you feel like that again, and if I do, you have my permission to cut my hair off in my sleep,” he whispered against the crown of your head with a smile.

You lean back to get a good look at him. His smile is soft and gentle as he rubs your back. Your eyes shine in the moonlight. “Thank you.”

You press your mouth against his in a soft and tender kiss. You close your eyes and feel Eddie’s warm fingers squeeze the back of your neck. Your hand rests against the lapel of the tux and your fingers squeezes the material. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and Eddie’s free hand steady’s your waist.

You pull away for a quick breath and rest your forehead against his. “Just for the record,” you said as your breaths mingled together, “I would never cut off your hair, no matter how mad you make me.”

Eddie’s laugh echoes in the now empty parking lot and steals another kiss.    

[piratefishmama]

“Why did people decide that? “

Well can we hear your take ?

My take is that he's a big silly ex-jock / reformed bitch, he's a ridiculous big brother figure who ruffles hair and gives noogies, probably headlocks you, gives you wet willies, and complains abt driving his kids to places but would immediately gripe to Robin if they found alternate transportation cause they're obviously replacing him Robin wtf.

He doesn't care about embarrassing himself in front of someone he likes, in fact he'll amp up the silly!! Silly is fun!! Will sing into a baseball bat to lighten a mood, will sneak up and lift his loved ones RIGHT ON UP WHILE LAUGHING like th3 silly goose he is!!

he will flirt in both a gross family video vest with unwashed hair and yesterday's polo on, or a stupid sailor outfit, he does not know embarrassment, firmly in the "do not know her" category. he's not afraid of being rejected, he radiates confidence, doesn't matter how many times he's shot down.

He's a confident dude. Bit of a silly goose and maybe a lil neurospicy, but he's SUPER confident in himself.

Would absolutely and very confidently make the first move, then be REALLY cool abt it if you're not into it. Like. Unfairly cool, he'll make YOU feel better abt having to let HIM down.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Couples Trip

Epilogue for Sweet Treats: by character  | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍒🍒🍒

You let your hand float over the rush of air, your arm bent out the window of the car as you watch the landscape pass. You smile as the stereo buzzes with classic rock. You're almost bouncing with excitement; it's been a long time since you've had a vacation, if ever.

And your company couldn't be any better.

You sit back and look at Bucky as he changes the station. He gives a glower to the screen and hits the button again, stopping on a familiar beat by Tom Petty. You know it vaguely. The drums are pretty cool.

"You're pretty amped up," he comments in his cool way.

"Yeah, sorry," you make yourself sit still. He's so stoic, he makes you feel a little ridiculous for feeling anything. "I just... I've never been to a cabin before."

"Uh huh," he keeps one hand on the wheel as he leans back, his arm bent over the console, "nothing to do with meeting your hero, huh?"

"What?" Your heart falls.

"Don't lie to me. I know you can't wait to meet Steve."

"Well, yeah, I mean... it's cool but I'm more excited to be with you, babe."

You reach over to touch his hand and he twitches. You almost recoil. He's tense but you don't know why. You're supposed to be having fun, relaxing. It's a break for both of you.

"Sure," he mutters and sighs at the road.

"You want me to take over for a while?" You offer, "you tired?"

"I'm fine. You don't even know where we're going."

"Yeah, but I can take directions--"

"Can you?" He scoffs.

Stolid silence. He was in such a good mood earlier, you don't know what happened. There's never really an explanation but you think you know why. He's not over his ex. It makes you think that maybe you're just a placeholder.

"I can. Come on, I'll take the wheel, baby--"

You try to caress him and he reaches for the wheel, moving out of your grasp.

"I don't need you to mother me," he says.

"I'm not," you pout, "I'm just tryna help."

"Uh huh," he grumbles again, shutting you down.

"I'm sorry," you fold your arms and look out the window, the air blowing harshly in your face. You lean into the door and try to ignore the ache in your chest. He'll be fine, he's just stressed from the drive.

"Just..." he huffs as he follows the curve of the road, "try not to embarrass me. Steve doesn't need some fan girl going gaga."

"Sure," you agree as you hold back the croak from your voice, "I'll be good."

🍒

The cabin is nice. You admire the red trim along the eaves and around the windows as you get out of the car. There's an SUV already parked closer to the porch. Bucky snaps his door shut and pops the trunk, meeting you there as he lifts out your bag then his own.

You reach to take your knapsack but he holds it out of your grasp, "got it."

"Alright, I'll get the door," you chirp, trying to push away the layer of tension still lingering.

He doesn't reply and you go ahead of him towards the porch. He follows you up and you pull back the screen door, the interior one already open. You wait for him to go ahead of you, following behind as you watch his broad shoulders. You don't know if it's you or his past, but he always seems angry these days. You miss when he wasn't.

"Bout time," you hear another voice, familiar even if you've never heard it in person, "how's goin', Buck?"

Bucky drops the bags on a bench and greets Steve, the Captain America, with a clap on the shoulder, "long drive."

"And who's this?" Steve peeks around him, "hey, Steve."

"Yeah, uh, I know," you accept his outstretched hand, "hi., Captain."

Bucky introduces you dully. You smile nervously and pull back, once more hugging yourself.

"You'll have to forgive my lady, she's not feeling so great. Think she ate something," he explains, "but I was about to get a fire going."

"Sound fine," Bucky paces around, as if inspecting the place.

"How about first I show you to your room?" Steve suggests.

"I'll catch up," Bucky waves him away.

"Right," Steve gives you a look, his brows popping up briefly. He goes to the bench and grabs the bag, "this way."

He directs you away and points you up a staircase. You climb up ahead of him and he tells you which door to go to. You enter and leave it open for him. He drops your luggage on the bed as you admire the quaint patchwork curtains.

"Hopefully he loosens up," Steve nears the door, "he's usually got some stick up his ass."

"Yeah," you peer out the window at the rows of trees before the glistening coast.

"You're a brave woman," he kids, "I'm sure you got a few tricks on how to cheer him up, huh?"

You look at him, unsure of his meaning. You nod and turn back to the window, "thanks."

"No problem. Kinda my thing, helping out those in need," he intones, "especially pretty girls."

You wait for him to go. You hope he's right about Bucky. You don't want to spend this whole trip on eggshells.

[artemstellation]

tot men + catching their significant other staring at them with lovestruck expressions.

artem wing...

.... is taken aback ― he's certainly kind of used to a relationship, but at moments like these, he thinks that he's just pursuing a new relationship, because he doesn't know how to deal with it.

is further taken aback when you lean forward and kiss him hard, but soon finds himself reciprocating with the same, if not more, fervor. he wants you to know how much he's grateful for your presence in his life, and how much he loves you and the way it pours out of his very being for you ― and you, only.

quietly decides to himself to try and be more affectionate with you, and it's evident in the way his hand gently and slowly slips into yours and he tenderly squeezes it, twining his fingers with yours, or how there's always a peck on your forehead every time he sees you, even if it's only been a few minutes ― he's absolutely enamored with you, and he wants you to know it, through his silent care and affection.

marius von hagen...

.... stops in his tracks when he first notices it ― but then he's back to his usual, teasing self like nothing is out of the ordinary, however, it's all a facade to hide how flustered he is from you.

though that persona drops again when you kiss him, he can't have you knowing that, can he? that's why he'll kiss you harder (and makes it into a pseudo-competition again). but deep down, he knows that you understand what he means through his touch and through the hidden tunes of affection from his words ― and he finds himself immensely thankful for that.

he definitely makes it another competition between the two of you on who can make the most declarations of love to the other. he can, and he has, told you some of the most ridiculous proclamations of love to you, and he takes pride in them, but you know that's just his way of saying he loves you. so what better way to reciprocate? proclaim yours even more ridiculously (he adores it).

luke pearce...

.... is the human personification of a combination between a ripe tomato and a fully cooked lobster (or alternatively, luke is so red and steaming that you can probably cook something on him). he's utterly speechless. lord give him strength, he thinks, but unfortunately for him, it is not his day.

somehow possibly grows even more sanguine than he was before when he's kissed, and ceases all functions immediately. he's a husk of a man, for his soul has ascended (give him another kiss and he'll be right back to the land of the living). and then he gives you the most shy of pecks, because he cannot look at you in the eyes, lest he combust right then and there.

luke is petty. very petty. will get you back by trying all methods of getting you flustered and ruffling your feathers (ha, peanut-), but all playfulness aside, he significantly grows more softer than he was before (somehow, yes, that's possible). his heart soars with joy every time he sees you, and he wants you to know it, feel it. but judging by those expressions, you probably do, but there's no harm in amping up his efforts, is there?

vyn richter...

.... remains the most calm and collected (on the outside only). he's a master at hiding his feelings, and this occasion is no exception either, but he does send a soft smile your way ― it's his way or reciprocating.

becomes more open with you ― even if it's just a little. tells you more about his days, and about the little things that he notices through the day, be it about the people around him, or about something he saw on tv. he just likes hearing you talk, and that look in your eyes makes him want to melt in his place, and he just can't have enough.

spoils you even more than he probably does. he's rich, he knows that, you know that, everyone and their grandmas know that. he's awkward when it comes to genuinely expressing his affection and thus, does it in the best way that he knows he can. his gifts are thoughtful ― ones that you can definitely find a use for, and that you can use for a long, long time. finds himself smiling ear to ear when he sees you using his gifts, and maybe, just maybe, you'll find a new side of him opening up soon.

✦ notes; oh my god. it has been so long since i've last been here, and i am so sorry for that ― as a senior in my last year of high school (which is really important where i live), i really haven't been able to find time to write at all. i am so sorry for all those requests i wasn't able to finish back then, but i promise i'll try and write more soon! tysm for being patient <3

― rine

© 2022 rine @artemstellation. do not plagarize or repost without due permission.

[eoieopda]

for absolutely no reason at all

svt members as your partner when you come home from work and become the equivalent of a dead fish because your job has sucked your soul from your body and you have nothing left to give but a few halfhearted flops

LET’S FUCKING GO.

seungcheol and jeonghan also have dead fuckin batteries.

they’re on the ground when you walk in the door. they may or may not have a “reason” for it, but they are fully in starfish mode on the floor, unwilling and unable to be moved. nobody is talking because that takes more energy than either of you have to spare, but it’s nice — finally being able to be quiet. it’s like the at-home equivalent of hiding in the work bathroom/walk-in freezer/whatever to have just a SINGLE MOMENT OF PEACE. sometimes, you just need a good Floor Sit™️. ya know? but…. you’re gonna order the takeout, right? their phone is a meter away, and they cannot be assed to sit up to grab it.

mingyu, joshua, and seokmin are gonna nurture the shit out of you.

you may be a shell of a person rn, but that just means there’s room for whatever criminally delicious thing they’re going to cook for you. they keep looking over their shoulder to check that your soul hasn’t left your body; and they only step away from the stove to top up the drink they made for you. tbh i would not put it past any one of them to hand feed you because they’ll be goddamned if you have to lift a finger. they’re also team Self Care™️ but you have to be the one applying their face mask because they got some in their eye last time and wailed for many minutes about it. y’all are also accidentally drunk on a week night. ooops 😇

jihoon, minghao and chan have already asked whether you want to vent or brainstorm solutions, and you chose the latter.

now, they’re actively listening to every single thought you have about your garbage day. they’re highly emotionally intelligent + pragmatic, so they have 10/10 insight to share without seeming pushy or patronizing about it. when you have a plan worked out for how to tackle xyz bullshit on zero (0) brain juice, they say or do something unexpectedly ridiculous in the midst of this ocean deep convo. that makes you crack tf up. you no longer wait for the sweet release of death 💘

👆🏻if you chose to vent, vernon and seungkwan are ready to rumble.

vernon sits quietly next to you (like, if you’re sprawled out on the living room floor, so is he; no questions asked). he soaks up every little word while emoting perfectly when your dramatic/comedic retelling calls for it. truly a 10/10 audience. you’ve never felt funnier/more interesting, and THAT is the spark you needed.

seungkwan, on the other hand, is getting amped with you — he doesn’t know who he’s fighting, but bitch, hold his americano because he’s coming out swinging. importantly, you’ve aired all your grievances and feel less like you’re being crushed to death under the heavy boot of a capitalist existence ✨

soonyoung, junhui, and wonwoo are on the emotional disaster clean-up crew — but in different ways.

you may be a flat tire, but even those can rotate, so soonyoung is doing his best to get you moving. he knows that partaking in a hobby of some sort is A Lot™️ right now, but it’s also the only thing that will restore your will to live. he’s right. you’ve successfully fought off the intense guilt that comes with foregoing joy due to exhaustion; and you have [insert labor of love project] to show for it.

junhui is more mellow in that he’s fine to leave you as a lump on the couch; HOWEVER, he’s going to be doing silly shit in your peripheral vision until you finally notice and start laughing. who ordered the prop gags? it’s a one-man show and it’s INCREDIBLE. he tires himself out and you both sleep like fuckin babies, and it doesn’t take you 59 years to force yourself out of bed the next morning 👏🏻

wonwoo, on the other hand, is subtle with it. i feel like he would dump himself next to you on the couch, pull up some sort of video game, and be content to exist quietly in your proximity. but just because you’re not talking doesn’t mean he’s not pulling shenanigans. i feel like he’d find the most fucking RIDICULOUS mods known to man (ex. replacing the dragons in skyrim with thomas the tank engine), or make a character that looks like you and run around doing super dumb shit that doesn’t advance the story but makes you cackle. he’s got that very specific lil wonu smirk going on, too, because he knew he’d be successful.

[sleazysquid]

Would you be willing to write about canon Gyutaro with a piss kink?

I loved how filthy he was in your other fic! So I think it’d be realistic he’d be into this too. What do you think?

Hi!! Hello! Welcome ❤️ I’m super glad you liked my Gyutaro fic! I think specifically canon Gyutaro wouldn’t be opposed to violating/humiliating your body in every way possible. That being said, I think he’s the kind of demon to surprise you with some of his nasty habits and tactics, really going out of his way to put you lower than your place as a common human. We see this mocking/bullying theme resonate pretty heavily when he has the upper hand in the last bits of his fight with Tanjiro.

The Bottom Pit (Gyutaro x Reader)

Word count: 1.1k

Tags/warnings: female reader, noncon, humiliation, piss kink/forced omorashi (f receiving) attic wifery going on here, mild yan theme if you squint, a very mean Gyutaro experience for sure.

Seeing such a pretty human and wanting to finally fulfill every fantasy he’s ever had? He’s definitely not gonna kill you. You wish he did. He puts you more or less on the edge of death and humiliation. Gyutaro prides himself in fulfilling the domination aspect and taking it to the next level in piss play. You’re nothing more than just a little pocket pussy to him, in further progression of your dynamic he’s got you tight locked up somewhere in a special place inside Daki’s main house. Preferably in the attic or a hidden room. There, he’s emptying himself in you, on you, every possible way and in every fluid.

The room is dark and disgusting. It smells to the point where your nose has become numb to the pungent odor. They keep it just tidy enough to deter anyone from becoming suspicious. You’re fed to a minimum and wear very little clothing, all to please and satiate Gyutaro. Most days, you’re covered in an excess of spit and cum. More akin to a shoddy skeet blanket than an actual human.

You’re kidding yourself getting your hopes up in letting you go because lately his scare tactics and perverse creativity have dwindled to just about nothing over the past couple of months. Perhaps he’s satiated to a degree, maybe he’s found somebody new to play with (oh but you wouldn’t technically want that), or maybe he’s just done about everything he’s ever wanted to do. You can tell just from the little twitches in the way he moves when he’s had a bad day. Digesting a human possibly went sour, a fight that was supposed to end ten minutes earlier proved to prolong itself before he ultimately had the upper hand, who’s to say what’s pissed him off but Gyutaro is always sure to tell you at some point during his relief.

Lately there’s a new string of ingenuity that doesn’t seem to end any time soon. The first time it happened, you can crisply recall Gyutaro being hunched over your body, keeping himself as balls deep as long as he possibly can. Really slaving away at the sporadic shivers he sends your body into with every rut of his sharper-than-a-knife poor excuse for hipbones. You’re amping up the moans on this one tonight. Partly because you’re more tired than usual, another part it ends up feeling good in the end—and also, you have to pee. Really, really bad. And he’s not letting up any time soon unfortunately, it’s actually getting ridiculous.

Normally his run time is… quite quick even for human standards. But his stamina and rebound time has everything beat, meaning he can cum multiple times even if it’s to completion within a few minutes. You were really hoping that he’d give you a 3 minute pump and dump so you’d have time to bypass him and make it to the restroom. Fate would not be on your side, as if it ever really is.

Every second that passed by went too slowly. Every distraction, every crack in the ceiling and counting every flower on the wallpaper couldn’t keep you from the grinding thought, the urgent need to get away from him as soon as possible. Yes, he’s seen you at your lowest points and caused most of them, but you’re determined to not let this slip up. At least, that’s your mind doing all the big talk, while your mouth has decided it couldn’t take it anymore.

“G-Gyutaro.”

“What?” A shaky groan and an annoyed glare cuts right through you.

“C-can we stop for just maybe two seconds? I uh, really need to use the bathroom.”

Your request falls on nothing more than deaf ears and an impartial sneer. Gyutaro doesn’t let up, instead he’s jutting against you harder as his sharp nails squeeze into the plush of your thighs. It’s clear that now you’ve annoyed him by asking for one measly accommodation, even after seeing he was more irritated than normal when he approached you earlier. But that doesn’t seem to phase you too much, no, you’re really trying your hardest not to make him even more upset if you pissed on him.

“Gyu…Please..? I really need to go.”

He’s silent, becoming more visibly annoyed as he pays no bother to even look up at you.

“Please… I’d come right back so you can finish, I can’t hold it much longer…” The pressure from your bladder is becoming too much to handle, you’ve spent too much time distracting yourself and pleading with him is doing absolutely nothing. You’re sweating, praying, hoping to god you can hold it until he cums. You’re sticking it out as best as you can, to the point of now becoming deafeningly silent, breaking your fake moaning facade. Until—

Your pelvic floor decides to give in. A sudden feeling of relief followed by immediate anxiety take over your senses, your heart is pounding through your chest with the realization that you just pissed on him. His thrusts come to a full stop as you soil his still shaft, dripping down both of your legs. Gyutaro stares down at your still-pissing cunt. The hands that held you in place are now breaking skin and burrowing themselves into your flesh, he resumes ravaging you. The new scent of piss and sex are nauseating to your head as you lay back and take whatever he gives you.

“You’re a fucking vile little pet, you know that?” He harasses, you give him a taste of his own silent treatment.

“C’mon, say it. Couldn’t even go before I got home, I even warned you today that I just wanted a good fuck, don’t you remember anything?”

You don’t remember, he never said anything to you, and now you feel just as stupid as he tells you.

“Fucking say it. Say you’re disgusting,”

“I’m disgusting-“

“for pissing all over my master’s cock.”

“-For pissing all over my master’s cock..”

A smile contorts, “Good girl.. you’re my good girl.” Gyutaro whines. His stamina, to your dismay, lasts throughout the whole night, unable to even clean yourself off until he permits you to do so. It’s been like that since that night. Inadvertently showing him a new fetish he didn’t know even existed, to degrade you and demean you just a little more than he did in the past. He’s taken the time to give you slightly better care then previously, to his credit. Going out of his way to make sure you’re all filled up on liquids to release all over him. God help you when he ultimately discovers he can degrade you further by making you drink his piss, or maybe something far worse… Who knows what’s yet to come, you’re just holding out and barely scraping by each night anyway. Tomorrow’s struggles are long ahead and not your problem for now.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Mysterious and Spooky 🖤🕷

can I request something like reader is a new student at Hawkins and they have a personality like Morticia Addams & Eddie falls in love with them immediately?

Requested by anon. 🖤 I hope you enjoy.

Some quotes are by Morticia and I've written them in a different font so you know what ones they are ❤

Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! ❤🙂 I do not give anyone permission to copy my work.

🎃

Talk at Hawkins High School was rife about the new girl y/n. Half the students were fascinated by her and the other half were terrified.

Spooky, kooky and a little mysterious she joined Hawkins in October and set the gossip train alight.

The aura she held was one of confidence, she had a quick wit and entranced those who she met.

Fred had told a sceptical Nancy he was sure she was a witch. Nancy proceeded to call him an idiot.

Jason was torn between thinking she was hot and being seriously spooked out by her while Chrissy was an absolute sweetheart and befriended her straight away.

She walked right into the cafeteria on her first day composed and ignoring the talk that was amped up as she walked over to join Chrissy who had kindly invited her to sit at her table.

Talk ranged from her black knee-high boots, lacy black dress and spider earrings to what lipstick made her lips look that red to other ruder whispers.

"Why do you wear all black. Don't you own any other colours?". Stacy one of the cheerleaders whispered to her and Chrissy told her off for being so rude.

"Black is such a happy colour don't you think? Delightful even". Stacy blinks stunned and she smirks amused.

Well, she did ask.

"I prefer yellow, it's the colour of sunshine". Stacy retorted stifly and y/n looks at her aghast.

"Oh, how frightfully dull. You poor thing". Stacy stares at her stunned and y/n has enough of her gawking and turns away engaging Chrissy in conversation instead.

She was very unaware of the curly brown-haired boy who was gaping at her. If hearts could come out of his eyes they would.

As soon as Eddie spotted her for the very first time he fell in love. He had never seen someone so beautiful in his life.

For the first time in a long time. He was rendered silent and practically floated over to the table she was at, dropping on his knee and gazing at her.

"Jesus H Christ, you're what I've been looking for all my life". She grins.

"So dramatic darling. I love it. My name is yn. What's yours?". She gave him her preferred hand and he kissed it gently.

"Eddie, Eddie Munson and sweetheart you are the queen in my dreams".

Y/n loved to listen to the rumours about herself, she particularly liked the one about her being a witch (She wishes) and that she liked to put a spell on unsuspecting suitors.

Ridiculous of course but the things people liked to believe were outlandish at times.

It could sometimes get annoying though, so she dressed all in black and liked to wear scarlet red lipstick, ruby red nail polish and loved all things spooky and macabre.

What was the big deal? Was she really the most exciting thing in this small town that was meant to be strange itself?

Of course, she knew about the rumours here, missing kid disappears for a week then comes back, spooky woods, possessions, a girl with superpowers that involved psychic abilities specifically telekinesis, monsters and secret experiments.

Just because half the town liked to keep their head in the sand others didn't. Her mother who loved all things supernatural and otherworldly just like she did had gotten all the gossip from her father who joined the police team.

One person whose attention she did love though was Eddie Munson. The minute they met it was like it was fated. Of that, she was sure of.

Speaking of which she spotted Eddie who was surrounded by his sheeples as he liked to call them - the freshman boys Dustin, Mike and Lucas.

"Hi, beautiful". He drops to his knees takes her hand and kisses it, trailing feather light kisses up her arm then pulling her in for a long passionate kiss.

The minute she met Eddie when he wandered over to where she sat with Chrissy on her first day she fell for him.

They had been joined at the hip ever since.

"How's my princess?".

"Oh, my love, this morning I looked out and it was so stormy, the lightning and thunder. The rain? All gloomy and wild, It is rather romantic don't you think? I love it"

He smiles indulgently and kisses her forehead. Others watched them as they passed but the two of them paid the people no mind.

Y/n cups his cheek as he watched her with reverence.

"I love you, my princess". He murmurs into her ear and she grins.

“You are dearer to me than all the bats in all the caves in the world. I love you to my love”

The three boys stared at each other used to how Eddie and y/n acted but sometimes they were caught off guard.

The two of them really were perfect for each other, soulmates if you will.

In this life and in eternal life too

🖤🎃🍁