#waldos fic

[waldos-art]

All Green and Gold by WaldosAkimbo

Words: 20,338

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan & Steve Harrington

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, Jonathan Byers, Original Characters, Corroded Coffin (Strangers Things), Jim "Chief" Hopper

Tags: Cowboy AU, Cowboy Hats, cattle rustling, Outlaw Eddie Munson, Ranch Hand Billy Hargrove, Rich Steve Harrington, First Time, Blow Job, Anal, Good Boy, Surprises, Gunshot Wounds, Alcohol, Smoking

Summary:

The first time Steve has ever been on a cattle run for his father, traveling all the way to Texas, he soon learned what Billy Hargrove was all about. And he was hooked. Even through the sweltering heat, being with Billy made sense. But the Harrington name draws attention, and soon enough Steve finds himself at the mercy of an outlaw and his gang, cattle rustlers with a penchant for ropes. Can Steve escape Eddie Munson and his gang? More importantly, as they get closer, does he even want to?

Beta: Meleerage and Star

Art by @arimakes

All Green And Gold Fic

Created for @strangerthingsreversebigbang

[waldosakimbo]

It's Been A While: A Disjointed Guide to Explore the Apocalypse

Rated: T 26,743 words By: WaldosAkimbo Art by: @goingsteddi3 Steve Harrington is out in California visiting an uncle on his mother's behalf and it is boring. And he's being sad. And Robin's tired of it. So, when his cousin says he's going to be playing in a Battle of the Bands in town, he tags along, only to catch sight of one Eddie Munson and his band. And it's heart eyes at first insult. But, of course there's bad blood between Steve's cousin and Eddie and they leave on not great terms. Only for the world to rip open and for people to start changing into these crazy monsters with teeth. Now Steve's just trying to get home. Along the way, he picks up souvenirs from the creature's he's defeated, a couple of scars, and, oh yeah. One Eddie Munson, who's really hoping to find his uncle in all this mess. It's a small world after all.... Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin (Stranger Things), Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson Tags: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, but make the zombies demogorgons, brief mention of Steve Harrington's Parents, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt Eddie Munson, Minor Original Character(s), Flashbacks, pills used briefly, The Party Loves Steve Harrington Trigger Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

“I’m not in school,” Steve answered immediately, not like it was a sore subject, which it was not. “But, yeah. A little basketball in high school.” That seemed to delight the stranger, who pumped his fist in victory, jangling a few buttons on a faded denim vest. “And swimming, which you didn’t even guess.”

“Damn,” the stranger said and smirked, leaning back on his arm again. “What’re you doing here, Basketballer. This is, and by no means do I mean to judge a book by its cover—”

“You do, though,” Steve pointed out.

“I do, a little. But this is not your scene.”

Steve smirked back. He put both arms on the bar, holding his drink with both hands this time. He nodded, slowly, hunched over a little while someone was making an announcement that he wasn’t even pretending to pay attention to.

“Yeah. Not really, I guess. I’m out here visiting family.”

“Idaho.”

“What? No,” Steve said immediately and clicked his tongue when the stranger laughed again. “Indiana.”

“Close enough,” he said and sipped his beer, ever so slightly wiggling his shoulders in some sort’ve victory dance.

“So, you’re from around here, then?”

“Implant,” he said and Steve made a face that made the stranger laugh. “I mean, technically, I’m from the Midwest, but moved out here.”

“Oh. Idaho?” Steve asked and laughed with the stranger, who punched Steve’s shoulder.

“Okay, fair point. Fair point. So, anyways, Basketballer—”

“Steve,” he said and the stranger paused long enough to gesture at himself.

“Eddie. Pleasure. So, anyways, you’re vising for family, you’re dressed like you just got out of the PTA. You’re drinking goddamn Bud lite from a bottle.”

“It’s not good,” Steve pointed out and they laughed again. “No, man, I know. I know. It’s not for me. But, uh, I just didn’t wanna stay inside.”

“The weather has been fairly kind to us these past few days,” Eddie said thoughtfully and grinned. Impish. Steve had a strange thought of brushing his thumb along Eddie’s dimples. Steve also had random thoughts of, like, jumping off buildings and driving his car a million miles an hour, so it didn’t mean anything. Just a random thought. But he glanced at his beer bottle again just to be safe, to collect himself.

Read more here!

[ellorypurebloodculture]

It really drives me crazy when a fic that I am 100000% certain I bookmarked after finishing it somehow isn't in my bookmarks on AO3.

And thus begins the quest to find it.

😭😭😭

[willothewips]

dp fic readers:

dp fic: vlad's a total fruit loop

dp fic readers:

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

I’m not saying I’ve thought about fucking Trumbull in his marital bed with his wife down the hall but… Well, it would be a little bit funny if she walked in on me satisfying her husband in their bed.

Nice! I've always had this fantasy about Trumbull;

Like, my old husband died (as in the film) and in order to get paid, he comes to my house to get his fee. I tell him I don't have any money, and won't have any until the will is read...but...I offer give him an "IOU" of sorts...and we end up fucking.

Yeah...that's the good stuff!

[antebellumite]

What if the American Romantics were reborn today as patients in a mental institution? 

[navybrat817]

The Dad Diaries: Welcome Home

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects on the first night with his son home and puts his thoughts to paper.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?).

A/N: Welcome to The Dad Diaries! This AU will focus on Bucky and his relationship with his son (and you!) ❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared intently at the open blank journal that sat in the middle of his office desk. He had picked up the pen a few minutes ago, but hadn’t written a single word. Why did he feel stuck? Better yet, what was he thinking by doing this? Reading often came easy to him, but writing? That was something else entirely.

It was also something he wanted to do.

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and wondered if he should call it a night, crawl into bed with you, and try tomorrow. No, he didn’t want to push it off before he even began. Glancing at the monitor, he heard your voice in his head, a memory of something you told him in the early stages of dating:

The best writing comes from the heart. Write what you and your heart love because no one knows that story better than you.

Bucky had plenty of stories to tell. How he became a hero and a good man after years of pain and darkness. Or how he fell in love with you and became your husband.

And his newest adventure of becoming a father.

He wasn’t sure how to be a dad yet, but he knew he loved his son. That was more than enough to start. And with a smile tugging at his lips, he put the pen to paper.

Hey, Nugget,

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Most people call me Bucky. Your mom calls me her husband and I’m the luckiest man in the world for that, especially since she gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for: you.

Your name is James, too. Your mom doesn't know if we’ll call you Jamie or JJ, but I have a feeling you'll hear a bit of both. And one day, I’ll get to hear you call me Dad. Or Dada or Daddy or Papa.

Whatever makes you happy.

He paused in his writing when he thought he heard something on the monitor. His eyes flickered to the screen again and he breathed a little easier when he saw that his baby was still sleeping soundly in the middle of the crib. It wouldn’t stop him from checking on him later, just to be on the safe side.

I’m so glad you’re home. In fact, tonight is your first night in the nursery. I hope you like it here. To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A house is made with walls and beams: a home is built with love and dreams.”

Yeah, your old man likes to read. Maybe you will, too. I even have an original copy of The Hobbit and would love to give it to you when you're older.

Books lined the far wall of Bucky’s office, many of them worn from the amount of times he read them. He made sure Jamie’s room had a reading nook, too. It was one of the only things he asked for when the two of you designed the nursery.

I hope you get enough sleep tonight. Your mom, too. You both did great at the hospital and deserve all the rest you can get.

Would you believe me if I said I was a nervous wreck when I brought your mom in, but tried not to let it show? People call me strong, but I don’t think I ever witnessed true strength until I saw how steady of a rock she was. She blew me away, which didn't surprise me. She amazes me every day.

Hearing your first cry stopped my heart and brought tears of joy to my eyes. After nine months of waiting and talking to your mom’s stomach, you were finally here. And seeing her hold you made me fall in love all over again.

Sorry if that sounds sappy, but it’s true. She looked right at me with happy tears in her eyes and said, “Bucky, look! Look at what we made! It's our little Nugget!” and my heart swelled. She insisted on calling you that and it rubbed off on me. Believe me when I say that you are the luckiest baby in the world to have the mother that you do.

He stopped writing again to glance at his wedding band, smiling all over again. He thought your love filled his heart before, but it overflowed now. It warmed him like nothing else ever could.

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this since a lot of time will pass by the time you read this. Sometimes I may write to remember things I’m afraid I’ll forget. Other days I’ll write to reflect and get the words out when my mind is too loud. But my hope is that this will be a gift to you.

A bond for the two of us.

As you grow, I’ll fill the pages with the memories of you and our family. I’ll tell you about my past and how it shaped me into the man I am today. How your mom and I met and how I somehow convinced her to fall in love with me. And I’ll be sure to tell you about the day she told me we were going to have you and how that news changed my life for the better.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued.

I also plan to fill this with your milestones. Like your first smile. Is it selfish if I hope to see it first? If not me, your mom. She’d love that. Your first step. Being selfish again, but I hope it’s me you walk toward so I can pick you up and tell you how proud I am. And your first word. I hope it’s Mama.

Though I won’t object if you say Dada.

Bucky chuckled as he imagined the look of betrayal on your beautiful face if your son said “Dada” first instead of “Mama”.

I’m sure some days I’ll have more to say than others. If I’m lucky, I can pass on life lessons and words of wisdom. Some days though I may not say the right thing and I know I’ll stumble along the way as I figure out how to be the best dad to you. I say “best” and not “perfect” because perfection doesn’t exist. Except for you and your mom.

The beauty of it is that I don’t have to go it alone. I’ll have your mom by my side to help guide and protect you and to watch you flourish. And my hope is that you know as you look through the pages how much we love you.

Even on days I may not get it right, I’m your dad, you’re my son, and you’ll always have a home with me and a place in my heart.

I’ll write more when I can, Nugget. Until then, I love you.

Always,

Dad

Bucky set the pen down as he exhaled. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It was a start. As long as he put his heart into his words, it would shine from the pages.

And he couldn't wait for all the adventures he’d have with his little Nugget.

I hope you lovelies are excited to take this journey with Bucky. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[trashmouth-richie]

the raven told me of you

eddie x female reader

crafted from this prompt list by: @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing @allthingsjoeq

summary: eddie is released after six months of being behind bars with a false identity, he was never lonely because you were there with him, until you weren’t. now, coming home to a new life with his old name granted back to him. he navigates flashbacks, and trying to settle back in with wayne in private protective seclusion, alone— or is he?

8.1k

tw: 18+ angst. fluff of a new relationship, light smut— s1, s4 canon events with reader inserted into the timeline, mentions of insanity, death, witness protection, government cover-ups etc. this could be a continuation or stand alone fic of your touch but is not necessary to read.

releasing: thursday 3/7

Owens’ worked his charms. The government covered up the mass hysteria and pinned the murders of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred on an accidental chemical reaction from arsenic, radiation and terpenoids. The results left their bones liquified from the toxic lick of acid and torqued before solidifying once again. 

  The Hawkin’s Post called it ‘a combination of sickly tainted water from the school cafeteria.’ 

  Parents were urged to have their children tested at the local clinic for extra precautions, and thankfully no one else had been affected. 

  On Thursday the Eighteenth of September, at approximately 1300 hours… an hour into quiet personal time, Mr. Edward Munson, was once again, a free man. 

  At first he thought it was possibly a mistake, a horrifying joke fed by his many delusions. But when they called him into the warden’s office, he sat across an oak desk from a tall man with a skin bald head, shining like a lightbulb.  

  He used Eddie’s full name—not the persona he was given— and gave him ten minutes to collect his belongings. It was then he came to realize that maybe he wasn’t crazy after all. 

  Six long months in the clink with his brain spinning hallucinations beyond his control he wasn’t sure if he’d come out of it without a government issued lobotomy— and in the blink of an eye, it came to an abrupt end.

  Prison was cold, unwelcoming in shades of gray coating the ceilings, walls, floors, any service imaginable. As if there was one color sanctioned to the American Prison system and gray was the less costly option. 

  Concrete was probably more pliable than his bed was. The food was impeccable— if you were a raven on a mealworm diet.  It was just shy of hell, and it made the inhabitants calloused to a helping hand or squirreling away from making friends. 

  Seven months prior, Eddie was in his prime. For the first time in his life he was happy with where he was at, school was almost over and he had a true chance of walking the stage of graduation. 

  And you, he had you. 

  Beautiful, charismatic, sweet you. 

  It was almost like he conjured you up himself with a hard roll against a plyboard table of a twenty sided dice. Mesmerizing eyes that seemed to shimmer in any light, a smile that could soften Medusa’s rocky stare. You were perfect. 

  The first time his eyes laid on you was across the cafeteria. Everyone moved with the mundane routine, but you were shining like a spotlight had been placed on you overhead. 

  Your soft skin beckoned him like a moth to a flame. Smooth as silk, and he started to wonder what would your flesh feel like in his hands…would you cower away from their roughness? 

  His mind raced, and his heart pumped firmly whenever you walked past him, you smelled like ripe fruit, warming by the sun, and Eddie began to understand why Eve was tempted so easily. 

  And so began the daily task of seeking you out. He was able to spot you like Waldo amongst the boring gray faces of every other girl. 

  You shone like a gem, a sapphire filled with the darkest of depths, and like an enthusiast to your craft, he wanted to know the breadth of your soul. 

  His gem. 

  It was by total chance that he stumbled upon you after months of stray glances. He was walking backwards, yelling to Gareth about being on time for Hellfire that night, when he bumped into something that yelped in surprise. 

  It was you. 

  Sprawled and landing hard on your butt. Papers scattered from the collision of your face mashing into a denim patchwork vest. 

  He stumbled over your feet, falling beside you in a mess of curls and cigarettes, the one between his lips still intact. Your eyes met his for the first time, and that’s all it took for him to fall head over feet, in this case Reeboks, Eddie was a goner. 

  Your smile spread a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. And your laugh? Made his knees physically weak. 

  He still didn’t know how he managed to swing it, but he charmed you into agreeing to a ride home. Conversation came easy with you. You were sweet yet comical, a bit of a smart ass. He was grinning like an idiot.

  Chatting about books, then music, he bantered back and forth, teasing on your choice of horror, astounded in your tastes— but nevermore, he was enthused, enamored. 

  Witty and shit giving, you had him wrapped around your finger before the van pulled in front of your place. A permanent dimple pecked into his cheek that wouldn’t subside no matter how hard he tried. 

  A ten digit number exchanged on lined paper was the start of the end. A corny fist pump and a pep talk on his jaunt back to the trailer park. 

  Eddie was living on cloud nine. 

  He called you that night, foregoing any dumb advice he had seen in movies or heard at school at waiting a certain amount of days or hours, he went on pure instinct alone, and almost threw up all over himself after punching the last number. 

  You answered with your name after saying a proper greeting and he stumbled over his own tongue before choking out that it was him. 

  “Sorry who?” you had teased, Eddie’s heart fell into his stomach with relief when you giggled on the other end, “are you calling to sell me some boy scout popcorn, because cheddar is my favorite… but for you I might just buy a tin of caramel.” 

  A heart laugh erupted from his trailer, loud and barking. “Boy Scouts weren’t really my thing, princess.” 

  “Ah,” you reasoned, “knots too hard?” 

  He laughed again, that damn dimple achingly prominent as he smiled through the receiver, and you swore you could hear his cheeks squeak, “something like that.” 

  An hour had passed and Eddie found himself in the snares of coiled phone cords as he wore a pattern from his bedroom to the kitchen, fiddling with things left on the counter. Even going so far as to start a load of laundry and empty the sink. 

  You too were in the trenches, living solely on the scraps of information of Eddie’s life that he tossed to you like a pigeon in a park.  

  He was smart, filled with colossal amounts of knowledge on anything from cars, to reading sheet music. He had an ear for rhythm, cocky enough to have you hum a tune so he could pick up on it, and add to it. Eddie was a closeted genius under the untamed curls. 

  “Shit— I’m talking too much, huh? " he asked after a long winded speech about a campaign he was planning for the freshman in Hellfire. “I get carried away sometimes,” he admitted with a chuckle, a ripple of embarrassment heating over his body in a wave. 

  “Not at all,” you eagerly replied, “tell me more about Kas!” 

  “Well princess, I could show you, if you wanted?” He prayed you’d say yes, to whom or what he was praying to— hewasn’t sure, just crossed fingers and pinched his eyes shut in hopes that you wouldn’t think he was some loser yanking his dick to figurines and elf lore.

  But you didn’t, you had said yes faster than he finished asking. And from there— it was history. 

  He went to bed with a spinning head and a heart wrapped in lace, sugar coated with your sweet voice in his ear, the same lopsided grin he had worn since tripping over you at school. 

  —

  Stepping out into the first breath of freedom, the sun felt heavy on his skin. It itched his arm hairs, the heat touching his neck for the first time in years since he grew out his hair. The brightness stung his eyes. 

  He had become accustomed to the hollowing sag of fluorescent lights paling his skin to almost translucency, a true dracula in the pits of a four walled hell.

  A croaked caw is loud overhead, singular— followed by a fluttering of wings, and the bend of a tree limb.

  The clothes he wore didn’t feel like him, the ripped cotton Hellfire shirt wasn’t clean coming in and wasn’t clean coming out, Shredded where the demobats feasted on him like a hotdog at a ball field. 

  His jeans stunk of decay and murky water from the gate. Caked with mud, dried several times in the days of being on the run, the jeans chafed his skin raw, gnawing on his leg hairs until they popped free, giving up the fight. 

  A manila envelope held his rings, clashing together in a melodic tone. He slotted them one by one on the correct fingers, yet they felt loose, heavy and familiar all at once. 

  He was ready to pitch the envelope into a trash bin when he felt something else in the bottom, having to rip it apart to get to whatever was inside. When the ground was littered next to his waterlogged Reeboks, and his palm held the small silver item, his eyes brimmed with tears. 

  —3

The nightly phone calls soon turned to walks around the trailer park, Eddie listening intently as you strolled around the driveway, kicking up little clouds of dirt or catching the occasional rock with the toe of your sneaker. 

  He matched your steps, learning about your passions after graduation, how you favored sweets over salty treats, and the embarrassing truth of how after your friend Barb went missing, you didn’t have any friends at school. 

  “Well, now you have me,” he chirped earnestly, dark eyes squinting in the setting sun as he knocked his elbow with yours, a smirk on his lips, “I’ll take care of ya.” 

  It was as simple as that, and the easiness of it made your nose tingle with a burn as you fought back tears at his kindness. 

  Weeks of walking with you after school round and round Forest Hills— the scenery started to change. 

  The emerald grass faded into sharp tawny weeds. Foliage turned the color of autumn and the air began to crisp and chill.

  It was then, on a windy Tuesday afternoon, that Eddie invited you into his home, he made sure to kick dirty laundry under his bed, hide the Playboys in the closet behind an old pair of shoes and empty the heaping ashtrays the night beforehand. 

  A jewel in a shit shack— you equally looked out of place and fit in with the cluttered belongings of his uncles at the same time. 

  “My castle.” he announced, bending low and holding the door open like a gentleman. 

  He showed you around the small square footage, taking less than fifteen seconds to point everything out. 

  “And that?” 

  “That’s.. my room.” 

  It was silly then, how nervous he was to let you into his space, even though during your walks you acquired everything there was to know about him. 

—

  Snow was on the ground when your after school routine of going to Eddie’s was as second nature to you as breathing. 

  You were sitting on his unmade bed atop the rumpled comforter and soft sheets, socked toes dangling from the side of the mattress. A textbook balanced in your lap, pencil between your teeth. Your eyebrows pinched in a studied strain as you tried to solve a calculus formula. 

  His voice had startled you, not sure when he had gotten up or how long he was standing at his desk, looking almost sick. 

  “Got something.. for you.. something dumb that I saw.” 

  He tried his damndest to be cavalier. But Eddie was everything but. 

  Ten dollars in quarters, more hours than he had spent in a pizza joint ever, and a hoard of tiny plastic containers from a machine holding costume jewelry, he had finally gotten what caught his eye. 

  A silver ring adorning a bat with an indigo colored stone in the center. It didn’t come close to the actual beauty you possessed but the blue stone reminded him of the way you moved through the crowd that day, like a rare gem. 

  Tired eyes focused on him, a nervous little twitch in his body didn’t go unnoticed as he fumbled with something behind his back, a wanton smile smirked on his lips. 

  You smile, adjusting the book from your lap and rubbing the pressure from your eyes, “a gift? Ed, you didn’t have to do that.” 

  “Didn’t have too,” he charmed, moving closer into your space, his jeans tickling the tips of your toes, “but… I wanted to.” 

  “Should I close my eyes?” 

  He chuckled, “sure sweetheart, hold out your hand,” 

  Your eyes shut tight, eyelashes squishing against your cheeks as you giggled, “why am I nervous?” 

  He stared at the rubber eraser shavings that clung to your bottom lip. The graphite on your fingers, a small hole in your jeans atop your knee, showing a smooth expanse of skin that he itched to touch. You had captivated him since the day you crossed his lazy stare in the lunchroom, and he thought of very little else. 

  He could still hear your squeals when you opened your eyes and saw the delicate ring in your palm. Still feel the way his heart raced when you jumped up and hugged his middle, squeezing him tight against you, the smell of your hair filling his nose with notes of strawberry, or was it peach? 

  He didn't realize he had the ring fisted in a vice grip until he felt blood in his palm, salty tears collecting in the thickness of his mustache, his lip quivering.

  They’re wiped away in haste at the sound of a police cruiser. The familiar scent of thick gasoline exhaust and a camel cigarette follow with the squeak of his driver's door and release of weight on the suspension. 

  A towering frame crowds the sun from Eddie’s brow. A thick mustache sits square on an egg shaped skull, sunken cheeks replace a once plump face. But the drawl and cigarette smoke are welcoming just the same. 

  “Hey kid.” 

  —

  Eddie was nervous. 

  The time you two had been spending together was making him feel giddy. You hadn’t kissed or so much as held hands yet but the air between you both had become filled with dense clouds of lust induced tension— it was hard for him to see straight. 

  He didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you only saw him as a friend, but tonight was the night the boundaries would cross, and he stood armed like a Paladin, ready to conquer his toughest quest yet, you.

  Ice had built up on the broken concrete steps to Eddie’s trailer and your slick bottomed converse hit the glassy surface just right for you to slip backwards, falling into strong leather coated arms. 

  “We gotta stop falling into each other princess,” he chuckled, holding you tight with hands wrapped around your waist, “gettin’ too old for this nonsense.”

  His scent invades you, encompassing you with hints of camels, a stick of big red gum, and starch powdered deodorant. 

  Your laugh bubbles out of your throat like a giggly champagne, “damn, you got me, totally do this on purpose, insurance claims. All the rage nowadays.” 

  He buffers for a bit as you tip forward on your feet and spin to face him, one step higher than he stands. “Only kidding,” you tease, grabbing his chin with icy fingers. 

  His doe eyes stare into yours, lost in the way you made his heart skip and his bones feel like jello, blood ablaze. He’s searching, searching your face for a giveaway— a sign. 

  And it happens like clockwork.

  Your hands rest on either of his cheeks, thumb sweeping softly over the creamy silk of his skin, an audible sigh slides from his throat, followed by a giggle slipping from yours before your voice narrows to a whisper, “lighten up Munson.”

  The salmon tone of his lips have gone more cherry colored in the cold, a little chapped from the frigid temps. Not the usually pinkish orangey hue they drew in warm light when he flustered over History notes and Chemistry study cards.

  The apples of his cheeks were rosy like a cherub on a Valentine’s Day card, glittered with fancy text swirling of “Be Mine?” 

  Coal eyes shone with the bright overhead light from the trailer park. A deer caught in headlights. 

  Eddie was handsome in a way nobody in Hawkins was. A mane of curled brown locks, eyes to match. He was affectionate, easygoing, and you loved him the minute he crashed into you a few months ago. 

  Hands still on your waist he pulled you towards him, “Can’t,” he breathes, almost silently, a huff of air between you now, “not when I’m around you, never around you.” 

  Your fingers tangle together around his shoulders, braided in the hair at the nape of his neck, he shudders at the temperature change on his skin. 

  A quirk in your brow you tilt your head and wet your lips, “why’s that?” 

  He joins you on the crowded step, taller than you, peering into your face, heavy hands still on the waist, “for months, haven’t been able to think straight when you’re here,” his hands rub on your lower back making lazy circles under your coat with his blunt nails. 

  “Hmm..” you tease, twirling a curled lock of of the hair framing his face between your fingers, sultry eyes looking up at him in thick eyelashed innocence, “wonder why that is?” 

  The opening he was looking for, boundary lines down in overgrown grass as if he rolled a crit hit to whatever creature stood in his path was laid out for him. 

  His forehead comes to rest on yours, surprisingly warm in the cold, his nose like frost as it slid beside your own, bumping and sharing one breath. 

  “ ‘cause I’m crazy ‘bout you,” he finally admits, heart loosening, unrestricting, “and I can’t stop thinking what your lips would feel like with mine.”  

  He feels your smile on his mouth, the bated breath you’re holding teasing his tongue, “find out,” is all you can get mutter before his lips press gently to yours. 

  —

  Hawkins was a few hours drive, longer yet after stopping at the nearest diner for a burger and fries. After staring at a menu for more than Hopper’s liking he ordered for himself and Eddie. 

  The coffee came in white ceramic mugs, the waitress setting them down in the designated spots that were already stained with rings of taupe, years of wear. 

  “Wayne’s all set up in a new trailer, living high off the hog or whatever he said during our weekly check-ins.”

  Eddie ate in silence, chewing slowly, eating but not really tasting. What was freedom if you weren’t a part of it? 

  He’d be the first to admit that he talked to you when he was stressed. When he thought he couldn’t shut his eyes without seeing the horrific beings that crawled upside down from our world, he turned to your voice, feeling you wrap around him gave him a sense of hope. 

  “It’s not in Forest Hills, somewhere a little more private, government owned land.” 

  Eddie sipped at the bitter coffee, taking the burn in a big swig, letting it hurt. Nodding along as he watched his reflection in the dark cup. 

  —

  Kissing you was like being able to breathe underwater, like the 1986 New Year’s fireworks over Lover’s Lake. 

  He kissed you at your door before school when he showed up every morning to drive you. He stole more kisses in his van, cursing the 8:15 bell, his hands on your waist pulling you further into him.

  Standing by your locker, he kissed your cheeks as you dug for textbooks. He pressed his lips to your ear in the lunch line, making you squirm. 

  He kissed your shoulder when he sat behind you teaching you to play his guitar. Pressing the delicate pads of your fingers into the strings to play each chord with ease. 

  He’d groan into your neck, while pressing you into the couch, nipping your skin until his lips were raw. 

  “Where have you been my whole life?” 

  Your fingers are entwined in his hair, pulling his weight  further into you, your legs wrap around his waist, “led astray, lost, so lost.” 

  He leans up, dark curtains of hair dangling into your face from your position on the saggy couch in the Munson living room.  

  He smiles a toothy grin, dimples breaching, “good thing I found you then, baby,” he sweeps a rogue eyelash from your cheek, “can’t escape me now.” 

  “wouldn’t want to even if I were dead.”

  —

  “Nope, hasn’t said a word, how do you know he can even talk?” 

  Owen’s sighs on the other end of the receiver, “he’s tough, but he’s been through a lot,  needs time to recover, find out who he is again.” 

  Hopper takes a long drag of a cigarette, “yeah, don’t know about that one doc, he’s mute.” 

  Short trimmed nails scratch at a tuft of curly white hair, stationed somewhere in Nevada, “Alright, just get him home, I’ll call the uncle and let him know.” 

  — 

  Hugs lingered. Kisses deepened. Bodies pressed to one another in a staticky velcro of magnets, unable to peel apart. 

  Things were hot and heavy between you and Eddie. Smoky, tingly, a fog that had your blood pulsing places you didn’t know was even possible. You didn’t want to be apart, aching to explore every inch of him. 

  And he felt the same. 

  Together you set the plans into place. 

  He purchased the condoms, made sure his favorite mix of the slowest metal music he could find was ready to go. He washed his bed sheets and lit a dust covered candle. 

  You had done your own routine, showering and thoroughly scrubbing every surface of your skin, lathering a thick lotion on your body, and planting perfume in the direct places Cosmo described as, ‘irresistible’. 

  It wasn’t his first time. But it was yours. 

  Running his fingers through his bangs once more he took a last meticulous look around his room, crossing the trailer to answer the front door, where you had knocked quietly. 

  You were gorgeous, standing in a pair of light wash jeans and a buttoned red sherpa coat. A bag over your shoulder. 

  “There’s my girl,” he cooed, holding his arms wide and embracing you in his signature bone crushing hug. His lips found yours in a fevered second and he walked you backwards inside, flipping the deadbolt as he kicked the door behind him. 

  The duffle bag travels from your shoulder to his arm and he breaks away from your tempting lips. Holding your shoulder he pulls you into him, looking at you as he leads you to his room. 

  “Got everything you need? Toothbrush?” 

  You smile a little nervously, “check.”

  “Okay, pajamas?” he inquires, “could wear mine if you wanted, you’d look pretty damn cute in my Garfield pants.” 

  “Packed and folded last night,” you say, tickling

 his sides, “you were on the phone with me when I did it.” 

  He stops before crossing the threshold to his room, hands gently pressed to your cheeks, looking into your eyes in a serious manner.

  “Are you sure? Like really sure?” his brows knit into concern, “I want you to be comfortable with this.. with me.” 

  You tug his shirt with a pinched grip, at his waist, staring back into his eyes, the truth on your tongue. 

  “I want you.” 

  —

  Gravel spits up from the rubber tires as Hopper’s cruiser pulls off onto the secluded road. Eddie’s head hits the window hard with a thud, waking him from a dream. 

  “Home sweet home, kid.” Hop grunts, cranking the vehicle to a stop after traveling down a long twisting driveway thick with bordering trees and miles of woods on either side. A safe haven for a man deemed dead. 

  He could make out the taillights of his van, nestled in the tall grass beneath a willow tree, obscured from view. Wayne’s trusty Ford under the carport. 

  The overcast sky splayed a gray color against the new Munson home, and sitting on steps that weren’t broken, was Wayne. 

  The passenger door releases with a groan, and he inhales the fresh scent of dirt and summer grass. Finally, he feels like he can breathe. 

  Wayne’s familiar thin lipped grin is spread wide on his face, smoke lingering from a cigarette in an ashtray. His wet eyes gleam at the boy he once thought was dead, as he stands to greet his nephew.

  “Hardly recognized ya with that short hair, Ed, and that beard?” he says rubbing a weathered hand through his own scruff, “givin’ me a run for my money son.” 

  He hadn’t seen his uncle since that friday morning in March. Unbeknownst to them both, in 15 short hours a cheerleader would die gruesomely in their living room, sprouting a world of chaos and demons, destruction, uncertainty and more carnage. 

  Hop had explained to Eddie that Wayne was compensated generously for his grief by the United States Government. He was told the ins and outs of what had happened and where Eddie was, and perched on land in a new house, he was told to wait. 

  —

  Spring had sprung, the hard winter that seemed like it would never end was finally seeing its demise. March brought promises of new growth in the soil, and warmer days ahead. 

  It was a typical Friday, besides a morning pep rally for the laundry basket team after winning an important game the night before. 

  A pep rally you never attended.

  Your back was pressed against the bathroom stall, skirt rucked up with the help of Eddie’s hand. 

  “We’re… gonna… get caught.” You rasped out between kisses.

  His other hand was interlaced with yours high above your head, “probably,” he teased, tongue licking into your mouth, “it’s worth it though? Yeah?” 

  His hand travels further to the cotton waist of your panties, dragging them further and further down your thigh, his lips assaulting your neck, vibrating with your delicate moans. 

  “For you?” you question, hooking an arm around his shoulder, as your panties hit the ground, “always.” 

  He smiles into your lips as he pushes into your warm center, taking the breath from your lungs as you adjust to him, ass cheeks cold on the metal siding of the stall. 

  Your legs are wrapped into the crease where his elbow meets, his cock dragging in and out languidly, mouths hung open and tasting each other's ecstasy as your eyes drink one another up. 

  “Swear I’ve never, ever had someone like you, baby,” he gasped, bangs frizzing from being wet from a morning shower then covered in sweat. 

  Hips pistoning into you, he can feel your walls clench and tighten, your breath choked before you release, saying his name as if it’s the only word you can make out. 

  He cums hard. biting his lip and burying his face into your neck, “I love you, fuck I love you.”

  It was the first time he had said it. He had known it for months, but today in the girls bathroom skipping a pep rally he could give a shit about, he figured it was the perfect place to say how he felt. 

  He’s still inside you when you say it back, spend leaking from you and onto the tiled floor. Your own eyes wet with the happiest of tears because no one has ever said that to you, not like this. 

  But this gorgeous man, in all his reputational flaws that didn’t mean shit, loved you. And you had never felt more emotion flooding through you all at once. 

  “I love you too, Eddie.” 

  —

  Hopper didn’t stay for supper, patting his barely there belly and saying the missus was expecting him home tonight. He tipped a felt hat goodbye to Wayne and to Eddie, telling them to call if they needed anything.

  He still hadn’t spoken, only nodded and waved curtly as the red tail lights danced down the tangled web of a driveway. 

  “Gonna make pork chops if you’re interested,” Wayne chirped, holding the door open for him as they climbed the same number of steps, “learned how to cook, can y’ believe that?” 

  He smiled softly, carrying his envelope of release papers and setting them on the table. 

  Everything from the old trailer was ruined. His guitar, all the band equipment he had stored in his room, the mattress that held more memories with you in them that he’d never get back— all gone, burned to a rancid fiery crisp when the fourth chime rang and Hawkins spread open like a festering wound. 

  The only thing he had of yours was the small bat ring with a sapphire stone. 

  Ten dollars in quarters at a shitty pizza place. He should have given you something real.

  —

  “.. yeah yeah and I was full of shit then,” Eddie grinned as Jeff and Gareth teased him about his graduation timeline. “This is my year, I can feel it.. ‘86 baby!”

  He was always a flare for dramatics, dungeon master or not he amped it up for the freshman, acting like DnD was life or death, as if the cult of Vecna couldn’t be missed. 

  To be fair, he spent months on this campaign, late nights plotting and scrawling into a binder as you sat behind him, playing with his hair. 

  French braids then pippy styled pigtails, a cute bun on the top of his head with little hairs sweeping against his forehead and at the nape of his neck, perfect curls. 

  “Ten bucks says Wheeler cries when Vecna makes his return.”

  “You think?” 

  “Definitely.”

  Shoving Dustin and Mike with specific instructions to find a replacement player for Lucas, he sits down to his measly little lunch, leaning over to your space and whispering so only you can hear. 

  “After Hellfire tonight you wanna come over? Wayne bought a frozen pizza and I heard that Family Video finally got some good horror flicks in.” 

  Stealing a pretzel from his fingers you nod your head yes, “ I’ll get the movie, meet you at the trailer?” 

  The rest of the day dragged on. One boring class after another, students excited for the upcoming game, teachers unable to keep the roar of amped up Jocks under control, but alas the last bell finally rang. Releasing Hawkins High for Spring Break of ‘86. 

  Some kids went on vacation, others hunkered down with their friends. And some never made it back to school when classes resumed. 

  Walking down to his designated selling spot at the forgotten picnic table in the woods, he could have never imagined the trouble he’d be in just seven hours later. 

  —

  Pork Chops seared in a pan with some butter and a chopped onion, Wayne had the news playing on the small tv in the kitchen, listening for the weather report. 

  The trailer was identical to the one lost to the rotting flesh of the Upside Down. Newer, and a damn sight cleaner, but the layout was exactly the same, except for an added bedroom with an attached bath on the opposite wall of the living room.

  The filthy hat collection was replaced by odd cowboy decor and small wolf figurines. Eddie paced around the living room, touching the knick knacks that someone else had picked out not even questioning whether or not Wayne enjoyed this kind of stuff. 

  He had shown Eddie to his room, a navy blue carpet stretched across the floor, a queen sized bed against the back wall. New new new. Everything was foreign to him. 

  He would miss the heavy creak of a dresser drawer that didn’t shut properly, his closet door that fell off its track years before. Hell, he’d even miss the itch of the green wool blanket he kept on his bed in the winter months. 

  “Got your own bathroom too,” Wayne said cheerfully hovering in the doorway, hand rubbing the knob as he stared at the floor, “figured you’d wanna shower ‘fore supper, so I laid a towel out.” 

  Eddie turned his head nodding while he poked at the too soft blanket folded on his bed.

  “It’s good to have you home, Eddie.” Wayne said, finally looking into his nephew’s eyes, “didn’t feel the same without you.” 

  Wayne wasn’t a coddler, he didn’t want Eddie to feel like he couldn’t be trusted, so he turned to leave, “shower’s got real good water pressure.” He takes  a glance back at Eddie, and looks around the room before pulling the door shut behind him.

  “Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, turning away at the last second, avoiding the piercing color of Wayne’s eyes before they could break him down. 

  —

  Ten o’ clock on the dot your car crunched onto the dusty driveway of Forest Hills. Eddie’s van wasn’t parked out front yet, but thankfully the Munson trailer was never kept locked. 

  The trailer smelled of old smoke and musk from two hard working men. Even if the laundry was never caught up, and greasy wrappers from a quick bite of a burger littered the counter— Eddie’s home was comforting to you. 

  You didn’t have to fumble around for the light switches anymore, walking in the dark you knew where the table could connect with your hip if you weren’t careful. 

  Ten steps from the kitchen, down the hall was his bedroom door, five steps back led to the bathroom. He had cleared a drawer for you to keep your clothes in, socks, extra pajamas, some of his favorite pairs of your underwear lived in the top drawer on the right. 

  The mirror on his dresser held a collection of pictures of the two of you from the photo booth at Starcourt Mall, movie ticket stubs, and the mint condition guitar he kept sacred. 

  A yawn escapes your tired mouth the warmth of a shower calls to you.  

  Grabbing a towel from the cabinet, the water sputters under the shower head as it always did, and familiar music floods your ears from the thin walls outside. 

—

  His reflection is gaunt, different than the last time he looked at himself, the night he struck the mirror in disgust. 

  He’s too happy to rid himself of the swamp smelling clothes that itched and scraped his skin. The lick of a flame would do them justice, good riddance to the worst time of his life.

  The shower is bigger, the head double the size of the one he grew used to. The spray of scalding water hits his head like magma. Burning his flesh, washing away months of isolation, stale air, and stiff clothing. 

  The water released muscles in his back that had grown crimped from the thin cot he curled himself on. His fingers ran through the shorter length of hair on his head, just above his eyebrows realizing it now was long enough to drip water into his eyes. 

  He didn’t check the labels before rubbing whatever soap or shampoo it was into his skin, but the slide of it onto his pale and gummy mauled scars felt like butter on toast. 

  Registering the faint scent of a stixky sweet fruit he couldn’t determine if it was strawberry or peach, but the concoction had him clutching his chest, unable to breathe. 

  It smelled like you.

  You. His best friend.

You. His first girlfriend.

You. The only person he has ever loved— so intensely, it killed him. 

  You you you. 

  His gem. All sapphire blues with depths beyond comparison to anyone else who simply peaked on the surface. 

  Gone.

  “Ready whenever you are!” Wayne knocked on the door, “pork chop ain’t no good cold.”

  He wipes the tears from his eyes. Regulates his breathing with labored intakes. And finally admits the thing he couldn’t for the past six months. 

  “She’s gone.” 

  —

  “Sorry for the mess, maid took the week off.” 

  “You live here alone?”

  Murmured voices are muffled under the rush of water from the shower, “Eddie?..that you?”

  Shuffled steps get closer and the bathroom door swings open, Eddie’s eyes are wide, wild with excitement as they roam over your form. 

  He licks his lips, stalking towards you in a lazy manner with dark hooded eyes, “prettiest girl in the whole world in my bathroom?” His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, a breathtaking move leaving you giggly as his hand caresses your cheek, “hope you’re naked under these clothes.” 

  He presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, dipping you low and swinging you back up, he tastes like Mountain Dew and lingering hints of nicotine, spread with a wicked grin. 

  “I missed you, handsome,” you say, pressing your lips to his again, “so how was it? Did Mike cry when Vecna came back?” 

  Eddie barks out a laugh, rubbing his hands together, “think I might’ve seen a single tear fall, but they defeated him— crit hit by Sinclair’s sister.”

  “Really? That’s.. impressive!” 

  “It was… shit, I’ve never been more proud of those little assholes.” His smile fades and you know he’ll miss being DM for them next year. 

  “Eddie?” A small voice asks from the living room.

  Your brow quirks in question and he looks at you voice whispering low, “Chrissy Cunningham wants to buy ketamine.”

  “What?!” you whisper back face struck in shock, “seriously?!” 

  Eddie nods, eyes wide in almost disbelief himself, “wanted a half ounce at first, but then said she needed something stronger.” 

  Your face pulls concern, honestly astonished that someone who seemed so prim and proper would want something like that. Eddie didn’t sell k normally you’ve been with him on multiple occasions and the only thing that was consistent with your peers of Hawkins High was weed. 

  “Do you even have it?” 

  “Dunno” he shrugs, lips in a frown, “told her I did because it’s an easy thirty bucks, but I could just crush up some tic-tacs… she wouldn’t know the difference.” 

  “Eddie? Did you find it?” Chrissy calls out in a nervous pitch. 

  “I can talk to her while you find something?” 

  “That’d be great,” he kissed you once more, lips buzzing, “two minutes!” He practically skips to his bedroom and shoots you a wink. Leaving you in a flight of butterflies lining your stomach. Helplessly in love. 

  —

  Inhaling the hot cooked meal that didn’t taste like warmed up roadkill, Eddie sat in silence in a clean pair of clothes that weren’t his, listening to Wayne talk about what he’d been up to since they had last seen each other. 

  He burned with questions, needing, wanting, aching to know but the only thing he could blurt out came choked and almost suffocating on the use of his vocal cords. 

  “I need to see her.”

  Wayne simply slurped his iced tea, setting the glass down heavy on the oak table, ice shifting. “Figured you would… want me to drive ya?” 

  Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head, “I need to go alone.” 

  With instructions from Wayne on the less traveled roads back to town, Eddie’s van sputtered to life in a cloud of backfiring smoke. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the passenger seat, he knew what would be there, and what wouldn’t. 

  Nothing was the same. Not anymore. 

  —

  The boat floor was cramped, quite literally packed like sardines in a can, you were somehow lulled to sleep by the sway of Lover’s Lake waters and the even breathing of Eddie’s chest. 

  Your head tucked beneath his chin, he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could without crushing your bones. 

  Rick’s offered little comfort for an empty stomach outside of a moldy fruit bowl, an expired beer and a singular can of spaghetti o’s. But you were both safe for now. And that’s what mattered. 

  The kids, Steve Harrington— of all people— and Robin promised food and any information they could find without seeming suspicious. He was gracious for their companionship, needing something to keep him busy while trying to hide his own slip to insanity from you. 

  Your tears were endless, soft and steady one minute and the next you were wrecked, in a choked fit clinging to him for dear life. 

  Eddie’s mind played on replay of your trembling screams when Chrissy’s bones snapped like twigs and her eyes vacuumed out of her skull. Vecna, a made up character that he had been obsessing over for the past couple months for DnD was real. 

  Killing teenagers for what? World domination? Eddie and yourself were the ones on the run, knowing all too well how a dead cheerleader in his trailer would look to any cop with half a brain. 

  He’d run forever if it meant not losing you and killing Vecna for good. Everything he had ever known, books of fantasy and creatures that he drew for campaigns, it was all real, and these kids have been fighting it for years now. 

  The sound of tires crunching on the driveway had his ears perked like a guard dog, followed by three slamming doors. Instructions were given, and he could only imagine that whoever it was was in Rick’s house and it was only a matter of time before they noticed the boat house just like Mayfield had. 

  The walkie talkie Dustin left was clutched in his hand, you were both fucked, and needed help— now.

—

  The Roane Hill Cemetery was eerily foggy, dew coated the hot blades of grass from the sweltered heat. Wayne drew a map on what section you were in. Apparently the number of people lost in the “earthquake” were in the upper digits now, and they were running out of land to bury the deceased.

  Those not recovered were given markers slotted into the ground with accompanied by silk ribbons to symbolize hope. They were nestled up under a thick tree line, complete with a wrought iron fence. 

  He bubbled out a laugh when he crossed by his own empty grave. The headstone was covered in graffiti of wishes to burn in hell. Typical. His death date marked as  ‘March 27 1986’. But that wasn’t true. 

  Lots of people passed that day when hell itself opened a crimson quaking flood. but not him. Although he wished he had. 

  Pushing forward, he knew had to be close now. The air was thick in the foggy whiteness— blinding him. A high pitched croak screeched from the sky, and he stumbled backward, landing on his ass with a wet thud, a spattering of grass grown wild in tender dirt. 

  His chest cavity sunk in, gasping for breath but coming up empty. Each threatened choke chipped away at him as his fists tore at the soft ground. 

  His girl. His gem. Laid to rest.

  —

  The Winnebago rocked on uneven suspension as Steve winded down the Indiana highway back to Hawkins. It was eerily quiet. Even Robin was silent, planning her mission in her head? You couldn’t be sure. 

  Tightening the bandana around Eddie’s curls you ask him if it feels okay. 

  “Yeah, course.” 

  Days of running. Hours of growling stomachs, unable to keep down food— you prayed this plan of Nancy’s would work, that Max would be able to lure Vecna with her vulnerable mind, that Eddie could distract the bats long enough to have the others attack his paralysis ridden body—it had to work— right? 

  Eddie sits and pulls you onto his lap, adjusting the spear made by the same eleven year old girl who defeated his campaign a few nights before. Erica, you learned, was a warrior. 

  “Nervous?” you asked throwing an arm around his neck and whispering into his ear. 

  He shrugged nonchalantly, “little worried.” 

  You believed in the plan, in the younger kids, in Steve Nancy and Robin who had been fighting stuff like this from a different dimension for years. They were trustworthy and intelligent. 

  “It’s gonna work babe,” you encouraged, stroking his cheek, “we’ll clear your name, graduate, and then leave this hell hole, together.” 

  He looks at you with strained eyes, wetter than usual, “you and me?” 

  Staring back at him you press your lips to his in a gentle kiss, “forever.” 

  —

  He laid there until the sky turned to ink. Speaking to you in his head, knowing in his deepest of hearts that you could hear him. Telling you how he had missed you, how your beautiful smile played like a film in his brain. How he loved you. and hours have told you sooner, more, every day.

  He told you how he wished he was gone too. Would you like that? It could be so easy to do.

  Tracing his fingers over the formal font of your engraved name. He smirked at the silly spelling of your middle name. 

  It was comforting. 

  Eddie hadn’t felt this sense of calm since the day you hadn’t come back to him in the mirror, and he thought whatever magic spell was broken until you reached for him one last time, promising to never leave. 

  But you did, and he was alone. 

  Standing upright, he let out a sleepy yawn, “can I come by tomorrow?” he asked, “would you be okay with that?” He smiled, and bent at the knee to press his lips into the stone above your name. 

  “Oh,” he remembered, fishing your ring from the breast pocket of his borrowed flannel shirt, “look what I found.”

  He held it to your stone, “this belongs to you, baby, I want you to have it.” 

  Placing the small ring on the smooth base of your tombstone, he gets back up, knees clicking like he’s years older than he actually was. 

  “See you tomorrow, my sweet gem.” 

  —

  The night air shifted on his drive home, blowing a chilling breeze from the north that whipped his hair around his ears. The van struggled on the drive home with each gust that blew against the metal frame. 

  “Think we’re in for a storm tonight.” Wayne said when Eddie breached the front steps, straightening his arm, “ol elbow’s actin’ up.” 

  “Kinda cold for September, right?” 

  “All of a sudden it dropped about thirty degrees, somethin’s a brewin’.” 

  Wayne had his truck keys wrapped around a finger, “I gotta go check on Miss Pam, her husband died in the uhh.. anyway, she’s not doing well and you remember how those damn lights always went out? I’ll be back after while.”

  Eddie grew a smile, “should I wait up?” 

  Wayne stopped in his tracks, talking around a smirk hiding a laugh, “don’t get smart with me.” 

  They both share a glance and laugh softly, and Eddie still has a smile even after the rumble of Wayne’s pickup gets carried away in the wind. 

  He locked up, pulling the vinyl shades and unhooking the curtains, pitching the trailer into darkness right as the rain pelted the window panes. 

  Wayne must have made his bed when he was in the cemetery. A small radio was perched on a nightstand and after slipping into starched pajama pants, from the fancy dresser, Eddie fiddled with the knob until the faint guitar sounds filled the room. 

  Thunder grumbled in the distance, but what he heard next was repetitive, growing louder. Shit, maybe Wayne didn’t have a house key. 

  “Ya know,” he says, walking to through the kitchen to the front door, “you tel me not to wait up but then you bang on the door because you don’t have keys? C’mon!” 

  The door swings open with a final gust of wind. Mud sloshed on his feet, Rain splattered his face. But that was not a concern. 

  A beautiful face, covered in Earth. Eyes he hadn’t seen outside of a mirror in months. You wore the same thing he last saw you in, same tattered wear that his Hellfire shirt had, but it somehow looked soft. 

  “I promised you forever.” 

[lialox]

Writing fics with Kim Dokja's POV

I feel the need to YELL INTO THE VOID with this.

I'm writing a fic where my goal is to get it to feel as 'canon' as possible and to do that I'm studying the way KDJ perceives the world.

And his overall tone is just so tired.

All the time.

He uses a lot of words like 'I knew as well', 'it wasn't strange for _____', 'obviously.....'.

Reading the novel the second time around and imagining the narrator as some guy who's been sitting in a subway for a while makes so. much. sense.

He's also pretty self deprecating, but in a way where its not obvious. Like he'll compare himself to his companions and be like 'this person is so amazing, but instead, I'm _______'. and its phrased in such a way where the reader is like !! Wow yes this person is so cool! But when reading it again, I'm like... wow you hate yourself, huh??

I opened up the novel and in almost every chapter he says at least ONE bad thing about himself. Try it. It's like playing where's waldo.

" I lived so far to make my lies a reality." - 359

"However.... to think, they willingly spent an item on me that they could’ve used on themselves. For some reason, I felt guilty about it." -433 (At this point its like past scenario 90 and he STILL feels bad about his companions using an item on him like whAT you have known each other for literal YEARS)

ALSO!! The fourth wall doesn't just offset shock.

IT OFFSETS HAPPINESS TOO.

⸢Kim Dok-Ja watched all these happen with a quiet smile.⸥

[‘The 4th Wall’ is gradually getting thicker.]

⸢As if, he was looking at a spectacle happening in the distance.⸥

(Chapter 433 ^^)

TURN OFF YOUR SKILL KIM DOKJA AAAAAAAAA

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WRITE SOMEONE WHO TRIES TO FEEL NOTHING.

I THRIVE OFF EMOTIONAL WRITING BUT I HAVE TO PLAY BY THIS GUY'S RULES

WHY U SO BLAND KDJ WHY

WHYYYYY

*banging head on laptop*

[buckrecs]

𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝙅𝙪𝙡𝙮 ~ 𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧

masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist

FLUFF

Puppy Eyes by @coffee-with-bucky

look at me by @aquariusbarnes

The Pull of Gravity by @navybrat817 (shifter au)

The Rejects by @/navybrat817

A Little Less Restless by @majestyeverlasting

The Sleepover by @littleredwolf

An Ol’ Fashioned Notion of Wartime and Whisky by @rookthorne

Honeyed Words of a She by @/rookthorne (mob!reader)

A Stroke of Luck by @/rookthorne (lumberjack!bucky)

Serenity by @/rookthorne (Mafia!reader)

A Clover’s Intuition by @/rookthorne (lumberjack!bucky)

Ducks on Plaster by @lovelybarnes

the great shirt debate by @rocketrhap3000

Barbie by @buckyalpine

Imagine | 2 by @noctumbra (chubby!bucky)

Don’t Tell Bucky by @lives-in-midgard

closer by @eviesaurusrex

bucky getting used to modern crap by @bucky-bucket-barnes

Around My Neck by @mcu1shots

These Hands Are Meant To Hold by @vanderlustwords

Timeless by @antiquarianfics

You Have A Girlfriend? by @/antiquarianfics

Something to Smile About by @jobean12-blog

Found Waldo by @lovelybarnes

Unchained Melody by @delusionalvenusian

valentine by @softlyspector

The Way We Were by @avintagekiss24

Midnight Escapades by @kiritella

Stunt Double by @/kiritella

Sleep and Cuddles by @/kiritella

Flowers And Things by @espinosaurusrexex

Little Mermaid by @buckyarchives

cuppa coffee by @irndad

A touch of color by @starrysebastians

Smooth Criminal by @redgillan (officer!bucky)

ANGST

Verbal Fight by @espinosaurusrexex

Tommy’s Party by @bucknastysbabe (college au)

Rescue You by @writing-for-marvel

not my one by @stxrvel (steve x reader)

Imagine by @/buckyalpine

One Night by @/buckyalpine

ours by @trashywormeateroffics

give me a minute by @amayatheowl

Seasons Change & I Carry You With Me by @/vanderlustwords

The Truth Is; I’m A Liar by @imtryingmyfuckingbest

Better Than Us by @/antiquarianfics

The Rain Will Always Gonna Come if You’re Standing With Me by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Love Me… by @/kiritella

You could never hurt me by @theeleggymeggy

SMUT

braid my hair, honey by @witchywithwhiskey

finally by @adrinktostopyourthirst (spy!reader)

cherry blossom by @noctumbra (librarian!bucky)

virgin mob bucky by @/buckyalpine

Take the edge off by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Hayloft by @wienerbarnes (40s au)

[waldos-art]

Come and Get Me - By: Rindecision

My second collab for the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang with @rindecisions

I was so lucky to get to work with two authors for this image! Rindecision's story was a blast to get to read ahead of time and share ideas together. Do you want some boxing? Some sexy sexy but actually they're boxing boxing? Check it out!!

[gallusrostromegalus]

Ehehe, I see that Josuke Araki has made his way into your script :P

Are there any other JoJo's floating around in Soul Society and beyond?

So I like to populate the background characters of my fic with characters from another series as just a fun reference, but I feel like some people are reading into it a little to much. It's like- well, there's a watsonian perspective on it and a doylist one and a sort of meta-watsonian one.

From the watsonian/in-narrative perspective? You know that line from that Stucky fic everyone loves about "we deserve a soft epilogue?" I like to imagine AUs for main characters where they still live in an animeverse, but are free from the burden of being The Main Character. Usuke Urameshi lives in Karakura town, but he was never The Spirit Detective. He's just some former punk with mild psychic abilities who runs the ramen shop Ichigo goes to sometimes. Josuke is just some guy that has enough power to be a shinigami, but he's just like, rank and file. You see him in crowd shots. They're alternate universe versions of their full powered, main character selves and probably happier than those versions.

From a doylist perspective, it's a fun game of reference tag to play with the reader. A sort of where's Waldo of random characters from related series. Sort of like putting Samuel L Jackson in a bit part in your movie and giving him a purple prop to fiddle with. He's not playing Mace Windu, but for sharp-eyed nerds, he is making a star wars reference. Sometimes it's just for fun, sometimes is a way to lay on some really subtle thematic context. Like overlaying a 8% opacity layer of yellow on a digital piece to give the impression of late afternoon. Nothing explicit. Nothing relevant to the plot. Just a bit of seasoning.

From a meta-watsonian perspective, a lot of how I write fic was influenced by the old Kids WB bumps where the voice actors would play their characters *as though they were actors hanging out on the warner studios lot* Batman was still Batman, but he was also a guy playing Batman on TV. Yugi moto still had the cosmic powers of the millennium puzzle but also complained about how much time he had to spend in hair and makeup. So when you see a character from another series in my fic, they're an alternate universe version of themselves that is Not Relevant To The Plot, and on another level they're like an actor famous on another show, coming in to do a bit part on their friend's show for funsies.

...but mostly I do it so I don't have to make up names for OCs I'm only using for four seconds.

To actually answer your question: Yuzu is a HUGE fan of this educational YouTube channel run by Marine Biologist Jotaro Kujo. He's the only guy who gives echinoderms their due. She shows Ukitake and Unohana and they like him a lot too. Unohana writes to him to put him in touch with Hanataro and the two put together a major survey of venomous marine life with potential medical applications. Ukitake just likes fish :).

[harry-on-broadway]

Hopelessly Devoted

Word Count: 3.1K || Rating: M (contains sexual content)

A/N: So is everyone else still worked up over last night? 😅 Consider this a way to work through those feelings. (We’re also counting this as my entry in my own fic challenge lol My chosen prompt is bolded below). Happy reading! Would love to hear your thoughts!

***

“Remind me what you were last year,” you asked.

The question felt weird and it was hard to believe that Harry had been a stranger to you at this time last year given his constant presence in your life over the past ten months.

“Was Dorothy one night and a clown the next,” he said, voice gravelly from the combination of sleep and overuse.

“You set the bar pretty high for someone who supposedly hates Halloween,” you said affectionately, snuggling closer to him underneath the blankets.

“I try to be a good sport. You know, for Mitch” he replied, smirking and popping one eye open. “Get over here, you’re so far away.”

“Harry, if I was any closer I’d be on top of you.”

“Exactly! Get over here.” He lunged for you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you giggled into his shoulder. Once his grip was secure, he rolled back onto his side of the bed, pulling you with him. When he stopped moving, he opened his eyes and gazed up at you. “Hi…” he said softly.

“Can you give me another hint as to what you’re going to be this year? Is it another group costume?”

“You are relentless, woman!” Harry exclaimed, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to tell me what your costume is.”

“Nope,” he replied, pressing his lips against yours, hoping the gesture would placate you and halt the inquisition.

“If you won’t tell me, how are we supposed to do a couple’s costume?”

“Oh, are you planning on joining me on stage?”

“No,” you said quickly. “You know I’m not about that.”

“Then just be patient, love,” Harry said, moving his hand up your body to rub the back of your neck. “I think you’re going to be pleased with what you see tonight. Let’s just get breakfast now.” He released you and nudged you towards the edge of the bed. “How do you feel about scrambled eggs?”

Thanks to the weekend and a couple of well-deserved vacation days, you’d landed in Los Angeles on Thursday evening, ready for a weekend of shows and relaxation. You hadn’t done much else other than watch Harry perform, and he’d apologized for doing a poor job at playing host, explaining that he really needed his rest. You didn’t care though, it was a treat just to get to sit next to him.

You’d headed over to the arena with him in the afternoon, occupying yourself with your phone and making conversation with whoever was around as Harry went through soundcheck and warmed before retreating from the backstage area when he was told it was time to get dressed. “Have fun, love,” he said on his way out of the room. “I’ll be looking for you,” he added with a wink.  

With about an hour left until showtime, you took your time putting the finishing touches on your own costume. You’d opted for the easy way out, a version of Where’s Waldo, complete with a striped top and cap, and when you’d finished dressing you made your way into the arena and settled into the area cordoned off for friends and family to watch Ben’s set. When he’d finished, you settled for people watching around the arena.

It was fun to see what everyone was dressed as. Many had dressed up like Harry and there were even a few dressed up as Marvel characters. You checked your phone and saw that Harry and the rest of the band were running late, which made you nervous, even though you knew there wasn’t a reason to be. What did he have up his sleeve? Finally you saw Pauli and Elin come out of the tunnel and head to the stage in bright pink bomber jackets.

No. He wouldn’t dare.

You flashed back to a conversation you’d had several months ago. You were in his arms, sweat cooling on your bodies as you both tried to catch your breath.

“What’s your favorite movie?” he’d asked, chest rising and falling.

The question, while strange for the situation, didn’t catch you off guard. You’d grown used to Harry’s rapid fire question squeezed into every moment you all were able to salvage together.

“Grease,” you’d said without hesitation.

“Really?” he asked. Even without looking at him you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, I think I was Sandy for like three Halloweens in a row. I used to ask my mom to let me watch the movie every day after school for a couple of years.”

“A couple of years?” he asked incredulously.

“What can I say? It’s a classic!” you said with a laugh. “I also had a bit of a crush on John Travolta. I was very disappointed when I learned that present day-Travolta didn’t look like 1978 Travolta.”

“Noted,” Harry had said, as he rolled back on top of you.

That was all you could think about as you watched Sarah, Yaffra, Mitch, and Ny-Oh file in. You’d counted their characters one-by-one, until you confirmed your suspicions about who Harry would be dressed as.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath as the lights dimmed and the concert’s intro began to play. You kept your eyes trained on the center of the stage, lit up by the spotlight, until you saw the trapdoor open and watched as Harry slowly emerged from the depths of the stage.

The first thing you saw was the wig, and you were only slightly ashamed that it made you feel the way you did, heat spreading through you, setting your body ablaze. The leather jacket and tight black pants had you breathless and you had to remind yourself to take a breath, lest you pass out in the middle of the Kia Forum. The confidence he oozed on a nightly basis was amplified by the outfit, which only drove you wilder. Based on the screams echoing through the building, you weren’t alone in that feeling.

Your eyes followed him as he pranced around the stage. You were brave enough to admit that your gaze was mostly alternating between his ass and – when he’d shed the leather jacket – his arms. You melted even further when you caught a glimpse of the big screen and saw that he had donned eyeliner as well.

A couple of songs in, he caught your eye and threw you a wink, his lips curling into a smile as he did so. The throngs of people in front of you all screamed, each thinking the gesture was directed at them, but you smiled at the knowledge that it was only for you.

The moment of your undoing was at the end of the show, when he tossed the jacket over his shoulder before leaving the stage, running through the tunnel of fans. When he’d disappeared behind the curtain, you and the rest of his team made your way backstage. Harry and the band were high-fiving and celebrating another show in the books, with someone, likely Pauli, starting to pour drinks for everyone. Harry reached for the cup, but stopped when he saw you enter the room, racing over and scooping you up in his arms.

“Surprised?” he whispered in your ear as he spun you around. “Was it worth the wait?” You nodded into his neck. “Why don’t we have a drink and then I’ll get changed and we can head home.”

“How about we have a drink and head home and you keep this on?” you said, surprising yourself with your boldness.

“You –?” Harry pulled back to get a better look at you. “This is really doing it for you?” he asked, throat bobbing.

“Thought you knew I’d always had a thing for Danny?”

“I mean – I didn’t think it was in that way, but hell, I’ll take it,” he grinned. “Tell you what, why don’t we just skip the drink and get out of here.”

“I’d love that plan,” you said. “Don’t forget the jacket,” you added, kissing him gently.

Harry’s eyes widened and you laughed as he all but scampered across the room, grabbing his jacket and offering quick goodbyes to everyone around him.

“Ready?” he asked you, eyes clearer and more focused than they were moments ago. After an affirming nod from you, he took your hand in his and pulled you towards the exit. There was an electricity in the air during the drive home, marred only by Harry’s occasional muttering of “for fuck’s sake” when you hit a tricky bit of traffic, but you made good time and were pulling into his garage before midnight.

He led you through the maze of hallways, not bothering to turn on a light until you reached the bedroom. Once inside the room, he pulled you close to him and placed a searing kiss against your lips. It was surprisingly tame, but you knew he was just trying to control himself ahead of what was sure to be a memorable evening.

“Give me a sec?” he asked when you parted. “I just want to freshen up.”

You nodded, and sat on the bench at the end of the bed where he tossed the jacket next to you. Harry closed the bathroom door behind him and you were left alone in the quiet, empty room. Stretching, you looked down, suddenly aware that Waldo was not the best outfit for setting the mood. You pulled at the shirt trying to expose more of your cleavage before giving up. Your eyes landed on Harry’s leather jacket next to you and an idea formed.

You shed your striped top, rummaging through the suitcase beside the dresser for some of the sexier undergarments you’d packed for this exact occasion before settling on a pair of lacy underwear. You removed the rest of your clothes, replacing your everyday cotton briefs with the red garment and pulled Harry’s jacket on top of your naked torso so that it just covered your bare breasts.

You heard the click of the bathroom door latch and jumped. “Don’t come in!” you shouted.

“Um, OK…” Harry said suspiciously.

You took a look in the mirror surveying yourself and your new outfit for any imperfections, but were largely pleased with what you saw.

“OK, you can come in now,” you said, adjusting your hair so that it fell just right. You arched your back as you leaned against the wall, praying that the pose you settled on was more sexy than awkward. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in the sultriest voice you could manage as Harry walked in.

Harry stared at you. “What’s this then?”

“That is my line, right?” you giggled, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious over your attempt at seduction.

“You’re fucking right that’s your line,” Harry said, voice low and deep with desire as he crossed the room in three strides and pressed you against the wall. “Say it, again,” he said against your lips.

“Stud,” you whispered, soft and slow.

“Fuck,” he hissed against your skin. You could feel a hardness below his belt as he pressed his full body weight against you.

“Do you like this?” you asked.

“What do you think?” he replied, wrapping one of his hands around your neck and pulling you forward to meet his lips. He closed the gap between you all with a ferocity you’d never experienced. He nipped at your lips, parting them just enough to slot his tongue in between them and you moaned at the intrusion.

Mouths occupied, his free hand traced its way up your waist before settling on your breast. The tip of his index finger ghosted over your nipple in a slow, teasing circle, causing it to harden underneath of his touch. Your breathing quickened and he increased the pace of his circles to match your breath before stopping.

You made a wounded noise at the loss of the sensation but gasped when his mouth replaced his fingers and you felt a jolt of pleasure throughout your entire body. His mouth was hot and wet against the skin of your breast and you tried to stay in the moment and memorize the feel of him on your body. His other hand landed on your left breast and he repeated the sequence.

Without breaking contact, Harry looked up at you as he continued his attack on your breasts, feeling his cock harden even more as he took in the look of pure ecstasy on your face. He was quite confident in his abilities in the bedroom, but he didn’t think he’d ever caused you to come undone this quickly before.

“Harry,” you panted, interrupting his reverie.

“Yes?”

“I need –” you started.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you need.”

You took a shaky breath. “I need your mouth on my clit.”

Harry bit his lip, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to cum on the spot. You were never shy about what you wanted during sex, but were also rarely this direct, opting for subtle corrections or guidance. When he’d calmed himself, he looked back up at you. “Your wish is my command.”

He kissed down your body, leaving a wet trail down your stomach and ribs, continuing to kiss around your thighs, pulling them apart to better position himself at your center. His hands drifted to your hips and he slowly pulled your panties down until they pooled around your ankles. With nothing between you and him, he brought his hands underneath your ass to pull you close to his face, relishing how the feel of your skin under his palms and the hem of the leather jacket surrounded him in softness.

You placed one of your hands in his hair, ready to push him to you, but he dove in without preamble before you could make a move. He lapped at your wet folds clearly avoiding the one spot you most wanted him.

“Don’t be a tease,” you whined, hating how desperate you sounded.

“You know you like it,” he shot back, and as infuriating as it was, he was absolutely right.

You were relaxing into his touch, growing somewhat content with the feeling and trying to ignore the desire that was pulsing within you. Which is why you were caught off guard when he suddenly locked his lips around your clit, dragging his teeth gently along the sensitive skin.

You yelped with pleasure and felt your knees go weak at the sensation. Harry tightened his arms around you, which served the dual purpose of keeping you upright and bringing his face deeper between your legs, which in turn only intensified the waves of satisfaction that were ricocheting through your body.

“Harry, I’m – oh!”

You knew it was coming, but your orgasm still surprised you, in both its intensity and duration. Harry didn’t falter throughout it, keeping his ministrations steady as he helped you ride it out, only pulling away when he could feel your breathing start to even out.

“Easy there,” he said when you tried to step back on unsteady legs.

You sank down the wall before settling into his lap and kissing him, long, hard, and deep. “Your turn,” you said, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. As you looked into his eyes, you saw that the eyeliner on his waterline had grown smudged from the sweat that dotted his face. “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” he said, hands once again finding your ass. “On top. Want to see you.”

You smiled, and eased up onto your knees. “Well, I think these are in the way,” you said, fingering the button of his pants, and pulling the tight garment down his legs, throwing them and his briefs behind you. His shirt was next and once he was completely naked below you, you started to shrug off the jacket you were still wearing.

“No. Leave it,” he said, pulling it back up your shoulders.

His cock was jutting proud, red, and already leaking against his stomach, but you gave him a few tentative strokes anyways as you slid the condom on him, enjoying the way his face contorted with pleasure alongside your touch. Satisfied, you lifted your hips once again and sank down onto him. You were already wet, so you took him with little resistance, but even with that it was still a tight fit and you swallowed thickly when he was fully inside you. You took a moment to savor the sensation that only Harry – not your hand or some toy – could give you.

After a moment, you moved up and down, testing the waters, while Harry hissed below you. You leaned over top of him, your breasts pressed against his chest, the loose flaps of the jacket hanging open over top of your bodies, and you tentatively rolled your hips, slow at first, but building speed until you found a pace that felt manageable for you and good for Harry based on the sounds he was emitting.

“Do you like this?” you asked him. He nodded. “Tell me,” you said. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“So good. So fucking good, baby,” he rambled beneath you. The ragged sound of his breathing and the incoherence of his thoughts indicated that he was close. You knew what he needed and leaned down once more and kissed him, wet and sloppy, and seconds later you felt him stiffen and spill over inside of you. You continued to kiss him, loving the way he moaned against your lips, and when he was done, you lifted off of him and laid down next to him.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. “I–. You –. Fuck,” he finally said.

“Love you too, Harry,” you replied. You shifted next to him, taking off the leather jacket which was now sticking to you uncomfortably. Completely naked, you shivered as the AC kicked on, drying the sweat on your body.

Sensing your discomfort, Harry pulled you into him, gently rubbing your back. “This was a great treat, love,” he said. “Not sure next year will be able to top this.”

“Next year?” You knew you both were happy in the relationship and had no plans for anything to change, but hearing him talk so casually about the future did something to you. Maybe it was the hormones, but you were suddenly overcome by an intense wave of affection for the man lying next to you.

“Yeah,” Harry said confidently, turning to look at you. “You’re the only one for me and I hope I make that clear to you every day.”

“Hopelessly devoted,” you said, with a light chuckle.

“Hopelessly devoted to you, love.”

***

talk to me! 

[threegoblinart]

I can finally show this! This was a special thank you to a friend for some amazing generosity, @childlikegoblinqueen it's my imagining of a happy ending to her fic, Sweet Child of Mine

I'm a little addicted to isometric home drawings now.

It's like a where's Waldo of pop culture/TOH references.

That painting on the wall looks familiar

Thank you, friend I hope you like it!

[aro-screams-into-the-void]

Dunno if anyone's done a fic of this yet (if no one has yet, it's free real estate,) but Immortal!Cale and Reincarnator!Literally Everyone Else

Option 1: Where's Waldo-Cale edition. Either everyone always reincarnates together or they gather over a few lifetimes, then start searching for Cale. It's always near misses and life long searches until they finally meet him again

Option 2: Memory Shenanigans. Either Cale's records have been wiped (potentially in exchange for everyone reincarnating) or some of the others have their memories while others don't, and meeting each other or meeting Cale brings them back

Option 3: Free Space, insert something angsty here

[strangerthingssteddiebrainrot]

Posted my bigbang fic finally! Find it and others @steddiebang

Artwork made by the lovely @waldos-art

Find them also at twitter and AO3 at WaldosAkimbo

Pairing: Steddie

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, The Party, Female OC, Sam Owens, Jim Hopper, Joyce Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Johnathan Byers

Rating: E

TW: past child neglect, present parental neglect

Thanks to the team for allowing me to participate!