#but he’d defo smoke

[james-sunshine-potter]

when i get home, i'm going to bury you...

READ ON AO3 (pretty please :*)

TW/ Vomitting, Death (we don’t see it happen), blood and morgues, smoking, driving under influence (it’s not someone we see or know)

James doesn’t think this could get any worse if he tried.

Like he isn’t even sure how it got to be like this.

It was meant to be a party for Evan’s 19th birthday. A house party which was meant to be a plain excuse to get wasted for a night and regret it in the morning.

James had been a part of the planning due to his (secret albeit) involvement with this friendship group, through Regulus. Mainly due to the fact he had money and a car to drive around town to collect party supplies. But also, regulus wanted him there… and who was he to say no to him?

Him and Regulus had been… a thing for a while now. It was official, absolutely. They had both confirmed it to each other, they were dating and theirs only. He thinks Regulus might be too jealous to anything but commitment, which James isn’t complaining about. The thing was not many people new. Regulus’ friend found out through an unfortunate accident (they weren’t even doing anything that explicit… they actually just missed it…), Barty doesn’t know what a secret means and suddenly Evan, Dorcas and Pandora knew. And because Dorcas knew, Marlene knew.

But for James and Regulus’ luck, Marlene wasn’t big enough to ignore a bribe (money… £120 to be exact, he paid for a tattoo and piercing), so the secret stopped spreading there.

The point was James had been dating Regulus for almost five months now, and Sirius had no idea. It wasn’t like James was never going to tell him, he was just waiting for the right time. He just doesn’t know when the right time was to tell Sirius he’s dating his little brother who he has a complicated relationship which James knew about. He couldn’t see that going well.

Especially since James was the person to properly start it. He started the flirting, the chase (he wasn’t being chased though) and he was the person who asked Regulus out for the first date. Everything else just happened, Regulus made sure nothing was accidental. Regulus was the one to want to keep in private at first, James would do anything regulus asked him to. He loved the privacy, and the intimacy which came with it. Every kiss was just for them, everything which happened behind closed doors was just for them. There were no expectations, no pressure. No one knew about what was happening with them. Regulus is so private that the people who do know barely know anything.

James is almost surprised it lasted this long. He isn’t complaining though. He can’t think of a time where he felt happier. Where he felt more loved.

It wasn’t hard keeping it from Sirius. Every hickey he had was from a one-night stand Sirius didn’t know about. All the flowers? From parents, Sirius never questioned that. Why would he? Love letters? Never seen, completely hidden to begin with. Days busy? Busy at the gym… or at work… or with family… or colleges at work are doing something afterwork and he was invited. He had an answer for everything. Every I was dotted and t’s crossed. Nothing was forgotten or left behind. Plus, Sirius is too oblivious to actually notice any true connection.

That’s how five months were able to happen before they found out.

And how did they find out? Because Barty doesn’t know what the word ‘secret’ means.

Barty who was drunk and probably high, with what James knew was circling the party, spilled the beans to an equally as intoxicated Sirius about how cute James and Regulus are as a couple.

And now they are here. Sirius has been screaming at James for so long, James is no longer tipsy like he was before. Thankfully, with how many people was at this party, the sheer quantity of alcohol and the volume of the music, not many people were aware of what was going on. Only the people watching.

“I can’t fucking believe you’d do this to me,” Sirius cursed for the fourth time, “My little brother, you’ve been fucking my little brother and you were dumb enough to think I wouldn’t care or find out…. How could you be that dumb James?!”

“What do you think happened, Sirius? He dumbly tripped and fell onto my dick; we are our own people!” Regulus snaps back, who has the ability to mindlessly argue with Sirius for hours.

“NO!” They roar, “I think James has jack shit going on in his head since he thought this was ever a good idea in the first place,” The slur to their words being drowned out by Lady Gaga from the other side of the wall.

“Sirius… there’s no need to be rude, you’ve even noticed that Regulus has been happier in the past months, this could be seen as a good thing,” Remus pulled Sirius back by the shoulder, trying to stop this, even though it doesn’t. Clearly already done with this.

James is too. In the twenty minutes of conversation, he’s barely got one word in. Sirius won’t shut up. James knew he was mad… maybe it’s this bad because they’re drunk. Sirius always picked fights drunk.

“I don’t care about being rude, I care about trust! How could betray me like this?”

“Oh my God Sirius, I didn’t do anything to you!” James snapped, sick of Sirius’ shit, “I don’t have some weird sick vendetta against you where I’d use your brother, and no this isn’t some sick joke, and no this isn’t some situationship which I’ll break off coldly once I get bored and no, I’m not dating your brother to make fun of him, which you so kindly think I would,”

James runs a hand through his hair, “I’m dating Regulus because I love him, and I love spending time with him… or I don’t know, he’s his own being and not your possession you give out like a toy,”

Sirius just scoffs, “I know I don’t possess him, but what I don’t like is keeping it from me in the first place and now rubbing it in my face,”

“Firstly, I was the person who didn’t want to tell you for so long, so if you’re going to be mad at someone for that, be mad at me… and secondly, we aren’t rubbing it in your face,” Regulus said with an impressive amount of patience, “If anything, you are… we’ve been begging you to shut up about it for 20 minutes now, I just want to enjoy this party, so does James… and Remus… and Peter, and surely you…”

Sirius has a disgusted look on their face, if James wasn’t so over this, he’d laugh, “Why didn’t you tell Remus, huh? Or Peter? Marlene knew, Dorcas knew, Barty, Evan and Pandora knew… what makes them so special?” Sirius turned around to try and get Remus and Peter involved but it was clear to everyone but them, that Sirius was fighting a losing battle.

“Pads, going to be real, I couldn’t give two shits who James shags, I thought I made that obvious,” Peter said bluntly before straight up leaving the conversation, walking back into the party.

“Yeah babe… they’re being safe, they’re happy and also, they haven’t been making me deal with any mess, I don’t care… I don’t think this is worth the energy you’re giving it,” Remus said calm and cooly, rubbing a caring hand down Sirius’ arm.

It doesn’t work, as they quick turn back to Regulus to have a sparing over who James belongs to and the betrayal of it all. James quickly focused on finding his own out.

Which came quickly. As if God heard his prayers.

It came in the form of a phone call. He always kept his phone on vibrate, because he’s just anxious if he didn’t. So due to his phone anxiety, he’s able to feel his phone vibrate in his back pocket as he starts to zone out from the conversation entirely.

He pulls his phone out to find ‘PRIVATE NUMBER’ displayed on the screen in bold letters.

Now, this could be a scam call about an alleged, albeit fake car accident he was in or an amazing out.

He takes his get of jail card.

“I’ve got to take this,” He abruptly says, bolting as he turns to leave Evan’s place, leaving the door open behind him.

He vaguely hears ‘YOU CAN’T GET OUT THIS THAT EASY JAMES, GET BACK HERE!’ but he ignores it by walking further down the street and answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this James Fleamont potter?” A serious voice come from over the phone. This couldn’t be a scam call cause otherwise how would they know his full name? Middle name included? “Yes, it is… who’s this?” James answered cautiously, slowing his steps.

“My name is Grace Taylor, and I’m calling from St. Mungo’s Hospital…” There’s a pause from the other side of the phone, it isn’t long, but it doesn’t make James feel good, “It says on my records on my records that you are an emergency contact for Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, is that true?”

“I am… yes,” A pit forms in James’ throat as he continues to walk down the street. He isn’t first on the emergency contact list for either his parents, rather the second behind each other for respective parent. If he’s getting asked for both, this can’t equal anything good.

“I’m sorry to inform you but there has been an accident involving Fleamont and Euphemia Potter,”

James stops dead in his tracks, completely unaware of where he was. Not caring if Sirius followed, or even caught up. He can hear them walking up the street.

“Sorry? An accident? What do you mean an accident? Are they okay? What’s… what’s happened?” James barely lets out a whisper.

“I’m sorry to say no, it was a car accident… we need you to come to hospital as soon as possible… to identify their bodies…” He’s sure she is still talking but there’s absolutely nothing going into his head. Car accident? His parents never drive, his mum doesn’t even have a licence. His dad has a car but doesn’t even take it out the garage half the time. They need to identify… he can barely think it. Bodies means dead. He wouldn’t need identify people, people with ids and records and the ability to confirm their own identity, but bodies mangled beyond recognition…

Fuck he’s going to be sick.

“James… you still there?” he manages to hear.

“Yeah… I’m coming now where… where do I need to go?” he can barely breathe.

“If you come to the accident and emergency entrance, you’ll find me and I’ll help you from there, I’m sorry about this, drive safe,”

James drops his phone as she hangs up. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t move.

This can’t be happening, it really can’t be happening, surely this isn’t actually happening, surely this seriously-

“If you think you could fake a phone call to get away from me, you’re even dumber I thought James!” Sirius starts on again. James doesn’t even turn to face them.

James doesn’t even answer.

“Oh, you’re a child now, not even going to give me answer… not going to look at me?” Sirius is being mean for the sake of picking a fight. They don’t even sound real, their words twisted and echoing through James’ head.

The only thought in his is ‘your parents are dead, mum’s dead, dad’s dead, they’re dead, they’re dead, mum and dad are dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, DEAD - ‘

James feels Sirius step closer to him. He doesn’t react.

“Real fucking mature James,” Sirius pushes James as they drunkenly speak.

And that… that does it. That tips James over the edge, as with no warning to anyone but him, he leans over himself, placing shaking hands onto even shakier thighs and vomits onto the pavement.

There’s a wave of reaction, none of them good but that doesn’t stop James from going again.

And again.

And again. Until there’s nothing left inside him, until he’s doing a weird mix of dry heaving and coughing. He doesn’t stand back though.

“Shit James, are you okay?” Regulus is suddenly by his side, magically. Adding to the stars he’s seeing. Placing strong hands-on weak arms, crouching down so he can meet James’ eyes.

“Hospital…” Is all that he manages out around the taste of vomit and poorly timed coughs.

“Hospital? What do you mean?” Regulus parrots back, understandably confused.

“Called… it was the hospital… I need to go to the hospital… now” James says, spaced out and feeling a little lost, as he stands up. Regulus catching him as he sways.

“You need to go to the hospital? Are you feeling sick?” Regulus immediately sounds terrified.

“No… parents there… hospital called…”

And really, that’s all he really had to say for Regulus to click. James, even in this spaced-out space, can see it click.

“Okay… okay I’m coming with you, Remus can you go back in and get him his keys and some water?” Regulus told Remus, leaving no room for arguments. Remus left without saying anything.

“Uhm you aren’t going to go with him Regulus,” Sirius says, dumbly thinking it’s a good time to speak, “If anyone should go with him it’s- “

He gets cut off by a sharp slap to the face. If James was more with it, he would reacted let alone cared. But he wasn’t, so he just watched.

“You have done more than enough tonight, you aren’t going anywhere with him,”

Regulus takes James’ hand and pulls him away.

James just follow.

-•-

James is sitting in some chair, in some corridor of some part of St. Mungo’s Hospital waiting for some mortician.

Turns out, the accident was worse than bad. It was horrible. Friday night was always their date night, they never missed it. They had gone to a new restaurant in London which a friend had recommended. They were taking a taxi back to the station when the taxi ran a red light, which caused a bus to crash into the back of the taxi.

They weren’t ones driving, but they were the ones killed.

The taxi driver they had was apparently high behind the wheel. If James hadn’t already thrown up everything previously, he would have again. What made it so much worse was that the driver wasn’t even hurt. Not a single scratch on his body. James could kill him. If he ever saw him, he could him for killing his parents. He’s not proud of it, but he could. He hopes the taxi drivers rots in prison.

He was just waiting for the mortician to come collect him, so he can do what he came here to do.

Regulus is sitting next to him, never have letting go of his hand. He sits there silent, like a saint. James worships him like he is one.

“I can’t remember when I spoke to them last,” James whispered. The silence is thick, it’s killing him. He needs to break it, by whatever means how.

“Sorry?” Regulus whispered back, obviously shocked by what James had said.

“I always call my mum on a Wednesday, we’ll talk for an hour about something… literally anything… then she’ll pass me over to dad, and we’ll talk money and work…” James paused and looked into Regulus’ eyes. His eyes could solve a million of James’ problems, and yet they couldn’t even scratch the surface on this one.

“I can’t remember if I called them or not,” James admitted, guilt in every word.                                                                                

“I know you did… I walked in on it,” Regulus whispered, pressing a hot kiss onto James’ cheek. Sparking a small smile to bloom on James’ face.

“I’m not going to leave your side, you know that. I’ll be there with you the entire time… I’ll enter holding your hand and leave doing the same you understand?”

James nods, his eyes suddenly feeling wet. Regulus just kisses him.

They sit in silence for not much longer when mortician comes out, a man in a uniform behind him follows like a shadow, to conduct this. It was a borderline fight to let Regulus come in with him, something to do with him ‘not being an emergency number’ and ‘not being family with the victims’, but it ends with James refusing to do anything without him there.

Regulus comes in and stands by two lumps on metal tables face them. The morgue feels much worse than he could have ever prepared for. Drawers which hold bodies line the walls, there are supplies and knifes lining the walls. Everything feels so… dead. The lighting feels sickly. There’s no life, no pulse. It smells of antibac, sterile. Like the dead people never lived to begin with.

“Just tell me when you’re ready… just take your time,” the mortician says, clearly detached by the idea of having to identify bodies.

James just stands there and breathes, even though it feels like it isn’t getting there. He can’t feel anything, which he should care about, but he doesn't. He just doesn't. He can feel Regulus’ hand, but he can’t feel the warmth that comes with it. He can feel the softest touch of Regulus wrapping an arm around his waist, but he doesn't feel the support like he usually does.

He could stand here and avoid the inevitable until they decompose. He kind of wants too. Denial is the easiest way to live life. Something his dad would parrot on about on their weekly phone calls. ‘Just because you can avoid something, doesn’t you should… it doesn’t go away, it just comes back harder’.

He takes a deep breath, grips Regulus’ hand to the point he might break it and bites the bullet.

The mortician pulls back the cloth and his hand comes up to his mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle the sob that comes in result. He could cry a river at this point.

He confirms the identity, which triggers the officer to leave, along with the mortician leaving with a comment with giving them some space.

They’re barely recognizable, James only recognised through their wedding rings. Scratched and worn and loved. Shiny silver gone dull, chips in the once sparkling sapphire, chipped and bloody. His dad had it custom made for her, as it was her birthstone. He did it before he even had the money to actually afford it. He sold a watch and his car for it. He told him that story every wedding anniversary like he’d forget. They never took them off. No matter what.

Fifty years together, and they died together. They loved and died by each other’s side.

There’s poetry in that somewhere.

He let goes off Regulus’ hand and walks closer to them. And he just stands there. He doesn’t do anything. He wants to touch them. Hold their hand, move the hair out of their face, something. But he thinks his heart might stop if he does.

But there is one thing he wants to do.

“Could… could you get their wedding bands?” James whispered, gentle with his words, “I don’t want them to get lost…” Regulus does it without saying a word. He’s gentle as he lifts dead hands and slides rings off with ease, putting extra care not to touch anything he shouldn’t. He hands the rings to James and places his arm back where it was.

A part of James wants Regulus to leave, the stronger part of him thinks it might kill him. Lay bloody and dead with his parents. Bury himself six feet underground.

They stand there for what feels like hours, and Regulus doesn’t hesitate once. He hugs him when he breaks down, he whispers reassuring words that no matter what happens, he will not leave James’ side, even means getting into more fights with Sirius. That no matter what happens, he isn’t alone. And all James can think is he’s so thankful for a five-month secret relationship.

So when it's time to leave, James lets Regulus take him home.

James just follows.

-•-

It rained throughout the entire service and wake. It doesn’t stop James leaving halfway through for a smoke.

One of his mum’s friends from school, Minerva McGonagall, spoke the eulogy. It was a lovely speech.

The wake was at their home, James didn’t really have the energy to have it anywhere else.

He stepped out after half an hour, sick and overwhelmed of crowds and conversations and the overwhelming feeling of death. He hadn’t been back home in a while, too busy with work and university for it. It was something he’d say he would pop down at the weekend, surprise them with some flowers and an apology for not seeing them sooner and letting his mum be clingy with care until he went home the next day. Nothing in the house changed. His dad kept his golf clubs the same place, his mum read the same gardening magazines, the same photos of James lined the same wallpapered walls. 20 years of this house and it feels the exact same. He's just thankful he made some effort the week before, otherwise he didn’t know what he’d do. He took them to his favourite pub by the beach and paid. He would never be able to do that again.

He stood at the end of their drive, just letting the summer rain soak him through as he enjoyed the silence. No one is pestering him here, giving repetitive condolences and well wishes. He had tried on multiple occasions to step out, but someone always stopped him. Everyone thought he wouldn’t want a second alone for himself at his own parents’ wake.

And apparently, even now, standing the pouring rain, he won’t get the time he wants. As he hears the front door open, a quick blast of chatter getting loud before going muffled again.

He just wants to finish his cigarette in peace.

He turns around to see Sirius waltzing out with an umbrella which certainly isn’t his; it’s his dad’s golf umbrella.

“I’ve been looking for you for like half an hour…” Sirius puffed as he stood next to James.

“Well, you’ve found me,” he says before taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Mind if I pinch one?” Sirius asks, as he covers James with the umbrella.

James puffs out a cloud of smoke before pulling out his packet, and Sirius takes one. Lighting it with their own lighter.

They stand in silence as they smoke. He can only begin to imagine the lecture his mum would give him if she ever found out that he smokes. They never knew he smoked, either of them. He would have definitely found out if they did.

“I… I’m sorry,” Sirius says as James puts out his cigarette.

“Unless you’re about to reveal you secretly drive taxis, I’m not too sure what you’re apologizing for, mate,” James said kind of dryly, not really that interested in having a conversation.

“Well, lucky for you, or me, I don’t… my reaction to you dating Reg,” and fuck, James almost forgot about all that, he’s had some much to do that it completely slipped his mind till now, “I was rude, too rude… as much I’m not thrilled about the idea of you shagging my little brother, the stuff said stuff which was uncalled for,”.

“Am I hearing you admit that you were wrong?” James jabbed.

“Don’t expect to hear it ever again… it’s just…” Sirius sighs as they put out their cigarette on the wall next to James, “I guess in my head, all you two were doing was screwing, which never ends well…” Sirius turns to actually face James. James returns the favour.

“But it’s clear that you two really care for each other, I mean I’ve watched Regulus show you care and patience I wasn’t even aware he was able of doing,” Sirius commented.

“If you’re about to give me the big brother protective talk, save it for a day when it isn’t my parents wake,”

Sirius takes a deep breath, “Did they know? Effie and Monty?”

“No… well I never told them, but they also know, so I like to think they did,”

“You’re a good person James, I have no reason not to trust you, especially if my brother does,”

As if he knew he was being talked about, Regulus came out, ready to complain about James being soaking wet cause of the rain. Stuff about colds and ruined suits and ‘how dare you worry me like that! I thought you had down a runner!’.

James just kissed the saint that is Regulus Black and lead him inside.

James just followed.

[aresrambles]

Mission Complete

logan howlett x fem!reader - in which you and the wolverine shack up in a shitty hotel after a mission. nsfw, afab terms, there's only one bed, 18+reader (always), “kid”, pining!logan, pining!reader (3911 words)

a/n: just one night with this man... just one fucking night. also yes, first wolvie post but defo not the last.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Logan pauses in the doorway, his gaze lingering on the double bed crammed into the corner of your shared hotel room. He steps inside, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes dart around, searching for an alternative—a sofa, a chair, hell, even a futon. Nothing. He sighs heavily, dropping his bag with a thud, his mind racing through the options. Sharing a bed with you? That’s out of the damn question. He could sleep on the floor, or better yet, maybe there’s another room available. Spending the night with you would be some sick kind of torture; he can’t restrain himself that long.

If you notice his hesitation, you don’t show it. You slip past him with a casual brush of the shoulder, making a beeline for the bathroom. “Dibs on the shower!” you call out, rummaging through your backpack for what he figures must be a change of clothes. Logan grunts in response.

“This mission wasn’t even that bad,” you continue, your voice muffled as you dig deeper into your bag. “We’re leaving early tomorrow, so you should probably shower tonight too. Don’t need you slowing us down in the morning, old man.”

Logan doesn’t dignify your jab with a response. Instead, he turns on his heel and heads back out, letting the door click shut behind him. He’s got a better chance of dealing with the front desk than with sharing that bed. He fishes out a cigar, biting down on it as he stalks down the stairs, striking a match as he goes. The no-smoking signs? They might as well be invisible to him. If they didn’t notice him before, they’d sure as hell notice the smoke.

When he reaches the lobby, it’s empty. Logan rings the bell—once, twice.

“Hello?”

Silence. He rings the bell again, harder this time.

“Hello? Anybody here? I was just—oh, for fuck’s sake.”

His eyes land on a neat little sign perched on the desk: ‘Front desk will be available again from 7:30 a.m. tomorrow.’

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thinks, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke in frustration. What if there’s an emergency? What are people supposed to do, wait until morning?

Logan growls under his breath, stubbing out the cigar on the polished wood of the counter, leaving a smoldering mark as a parting gift. He storms back up the stairs, mentally preparing himself for a night on the hard floor. It could be worse, he muses, but only just.

Logan swings open the door to a piercing shriek, slamming it shut almost as quickly as he’d opened it, his hand still gripping the doorknob with a trembling force. Okay, it could definitely be worse, he thinks, his mind spinning.

Inside, you scramble to cover yourself, your heart racing as you realize what just happened. “Seriously? Do you not knock?” you shout, your voice laced with a mix of panic and humiliation. Your face burns as you try to process the situation, the mortification almost too much to bear. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, hurriedly yanking on the oversized t-shirt you had planned to sleep in, your hands fumbling in haste.

“Why didn’t you change in the bathroom?” Logan shoots back, voice gruff, trying to mask his own flustered state. He grinds out his cigar underfoot, his mind replaying the moment he just witnessed, over and over. His ears burn hot, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the image of you—shirt halfway over your head, bare and vulnerable, your skin still glistening from the shower. Fuck. He looks down, his jeans now uncomfortably tight, the ache in his groin a harsh reminder of why sharing a bed with you is a terrible idea. He can barely keep himself together when you’re fully dressed, let alone in a state like that.

You take a moment to steady your breathing, trying to push the embarrassment down. “You can… you can come in now,” you stammer, your back turned to the door as you pretend to be engrossed in your phone, anything to avoid facing him.

Logan doesn’t reply. He pushes the door open and slips inside, his movements quick and stiff as he heads straight for the bathroom, needing to put some distance between you both. The door closes behind him, and you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. This moment was going to haunt you for a very long time.

So, you had a little crush on Logan. No big deal—just a harmless, schoolgirl crush. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But you couldn’t deny that you and Logan made a damn good team. So good, in fact, that the Professor had been pairing you two up for missions more often than not lately. And that silly, schoolgirl crush? It had started to grow into something much harder to ignore.

Your stomach churns as you roll over onto the bed, face buried in the pillows. It’s hard to admit, but part of you got a little turned on by what just happened. The searing embarrassment of having your body on display like that for the man who’d starred in so many of your late-night fantasies… It was almost too much to handle. You sigh deeply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

But then reality sets in. Logan didn’t feel the same way—how could he? The way he bolted for the bathroom was proof enough. Why would someone like him ever be interested in you? You’ve heard the stories about Logan’s past flames, women who were nothing short of extraordinary. And here you are, just another teammate, a brief moment of awkwardness quickly forgotten.

You try to push the thoughts away, deciding it’s best to just turn in for the night. There’ll be plenty of time to torture yourself with these thoughts later. For now, sleep is the only escape from the swirling mess in your head.

It was true—Logan couldn’t get away fast enough, but not for the reasons you thought. As he stood under the scorching spray of the shower, letting the steaming water cascade over his body, his eyes remained fixed on the tiles beneath his feet. His regenerative abilities could heal wounds and stitch him back together, but they never quite banished the constant ache that clung to his bones, a dull throb that even the hot water could only barely soothe. But the ache in his abdomen? That was something else entirely.

Logan couldn’t shake the image burned into his mind, the sight of you, bare and beautiful, just moments ago. He gritted his teeth, his thoughts straying where they shouldn’t. How would those perfect tits look under the water with him, droplets sliding down your skin while he took you against the shower wall? Would you mewl softly, or would you gasp, nails digging into his back? Would you cling to him, or would your legs give out, collapsing into his arms?

He let out a rough grunt, twisting the shower knob to ice-cold in an attempt to snap himself out of it. The icy blast hit him hard, but he welcomed it, hoping it might douse the fire in his veins. He could touch himself—hell, the thought crossed his mind more than once—but not with you just outside, not when you were so close. It felt wrong, too damn wrong.

The cold water eventually worked its magic, easing the unbearable tension that had built up inside him, but it took nearly an hour to do so. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Logan stepped out of the shower, drying off and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. As he looked at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, he knew one thing for certain: this was going to be a long, restless night.

Logan steps out of the bathroom to find you huddled on the floor, passed out in a tangled mess of blankets. He rolls his eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he carefully scoops you up and lays you down on the bed.

“I don’t need th’ bed,” you mumble, your voice so soft he almost misses it. He huffs through his nose, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “Where else you gonna sleep?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. You blink sleepily, trying to focus as the darkness settles around you, the only sound the gentle rustling of sheets as he adjusts you on the bed.

“Sorry about earlier,” he adds, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You don’t reply, too embarrassed to form words. Instead, you turn your face away, hoping he won’t notice the flush of heat creeping up your cheeks. But in the stillness of the night, it feels like every little movement, every breath, is amplified.

“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s space for both of us.” The words hang in the air, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of how close Logan is to you. You can almost feel the warmth of his breath against your face, the proximity making your heart race. But then, just as suddenly, he shifts away, the moment passing like a whisper in the dark.

It’s silent for some time, like he’s thinking. You almost speak up again but he beats you to it, just as you part your lips.

“Scoot up, kid,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You do as he says, moving over to make room, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Logan settles in beside you, and the bed dips slightly under his weight. The space between you feels impossibly small, yet you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Despite his shower, the faint smell of cigars still lingers in the air. It’s oddly comforting, grounding you in the surreal reality of the moment. You take a deep breath, trying to steady the wild thoughts racing through your mind. “Good night Logan,” you murmur, hoping that sleep will come quickly and spare you from the ache of wanting what you can’t have—craving the feel of his strong arms around you, the way his hands might tighten against your throat, and the sound of his voice purring dark promises in your ear.

“G’night,” he replies, his voice a low rumble as he turns away, leaving you back to back.

Logan is in Hell.

He can feel your warmth through the thin gap between you, every soft breath you take a reminder of just how close you are. His mouth had agreed before his mind could stop him, and now he’s paying the price. Lying next to you, with your soft body and those innocent eyes that see right through him, is torture. He wonders if there’s still time to slink back into that pile of blankets on the floor.

His muscles tense as he tries to push down the desire clawing at him, the instinct to reach out and pull you close nearly overwhelming. The scent of your skin, the way you whispered his name—everything about you is a test of his control. Logan knows he’s walking a fine line, and the longer he stays here, the harder it gets to keep himself in check.

His fists clench under the covers, every muscle in his body taut with tension. Logan can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing, the quiet rustle of sheets as you shift slightly beside him. The scent of your skin lingering in the air is really what’s holding him hostage. He tries to focus on anything else, but all he can think about is how close you are—how easy it would be to reach out and just touch you.

You lie there, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. The silence of the room is thick, almost suffocating, but you know you’re not the only one awake. You can feel it- an awareness that runs deeper than simple intuition. All those missions together, all those nights spent side by side—you’ve learned to read him in ways that go beyond words.

Without needing to glance back, you know Logan Howlett is still awake. It’s as if his presence hums in the air between you, a silent energy that’s becoming increasingly impossible to ignore. There’s a tension there, a subtle shift in the way he breathes, the way he holds himself so still, as if he’s trying not to disturb the fragile peace of the night. But you can sense it: something’s bothering him.

You wonder if it’s the same turmoil that’s been gnawing at you, the same restless desire that has kept you on edge ever since you laid down beside him. The thought of Logan feeling the same way sends a shiver through you. It’s a strange kind of comfort, knowing that you might not be alone in this.

But then again, the Wolverine is a man of secrets, you know him well, better than most, but not as well as you’d like. Not in the ways that matter most right now. And yet, lying there in the dark, with only your thoughts and the steady rhythm of his breathing to keep you company, you can’t help but wonder if the walls he’s built around himself are cracking, just as yours are.

You can’t take it anymore. Tentatively, you let your hand drift to the space between you, your fingers brushing against his side. Logan stiffens at the contact, a sharp intake of breath the only sound in the darkness. Emboldened by his reaction, you let your hand slide further, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. You’re on fire, body moving on its own accord. This wasn’t you, it couldn’t be.

“Darlin’, you don’t know what you’re startin’,” Logan growls, his voice thick with warning and something else that you couldn’t quite identify yet.

But you do know. You know exactly what you want, and you’re tired of pretending otherwise. You turn onto your side, pressing your body against his back, your breath hot against his neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly with anticipation.

Logan turns to you with a gentleness that catches you off guard, his hand sliding to your waist with a tenderness that feels almost reverent. He pulls you close, but it’s not with the raw urgency you expected. Instead, it’s slow, deliberate, as though he’s holding himself back by a thread. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, searching for something, perhaps a final permission.

It’s you that closes the gap. The pressure of his lips against yours is gentle, but the undercurrent of need is undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface. You can feel the restraint in every brush of his lips, every measured caress, and it only makes you clench tighter.

Logan’s hands begin to roam, exploring your body with a hunger that has clearly been held back for far too long. He takes his time, fingers tracing every curve, every dip, as if memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch. His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “This is all I could think about out there, in the woods… how you’d feel, how you’d taste.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, a deep flush spreading across your skin. His hands slide up your thighs, teasing the edge of your shirt before slipping underneath, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve. His fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, his lips moving down your collarbone, and you realize with a start that you’re trembling beneath him.

You find yourself arching into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Logan’s mouth curls into a smile against your skin, sensing your desperation. “‘s that what you want, darlin’?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that vibrates against your skin, making you shiver. “You want me to take you apart, piece by piece?”

You nod, breathless, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you silently plead for him to stop teasing. “Please, Logan,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

He chuckles softly against your skin, a dark, throaty sound that sends another wave of heat through you. Logan pulls back, his gaze heavy with desire as he sits up. You watch, breathless, as he reaches for the hem of his vest, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The sight of his bare chest visible only by the flecks of moonlight, muscles rippling beneath his skin, takes your breath away (though this wouldn’t be the first time). You reach out, your fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch.

Logan watches you with dark, hungry eyes as he reaches for the waistband of his pants, removing them with deliberate slowness. He seems to take pleasure in the way your breath catches, in the way your gaze follows every movement as he slides them down, revealing the full, impressive length of his dick. Logan is big. It’s not just long, but it’s fucking big. Veiny, girthy and leaking precum at the tip, you can’t help but instinctively bite your lip.

The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your pussy ache for him in a way that’s almost painful. “Logan… please,” you whisper again, your voice barely more than a breath as you look up at him through your lashes.

His gaze darkens, a satisfied smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he finally gives in, his hands moving with purpose as he strips you of your t-shirt. The moment your body is fully exposed to him, Logan pauses, his eyes raking over you with a possessive hunger that makes your heart skip a beat. He takes you in, every inch of you, committing the contours of your body to memory.

When he finally positions himself between your legs, you’re trembling with anticipation, your body aching for him. But Logan doesn’t rush. He takes his time, guiding himself to your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your wetness before he pulls your panties to the side. He watches your face, his gaze dark and intense, as he teases you, pushing just the tip inside before pulling back. Bastard.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rough but laced with tenderness, his lips brushing against your ear. “Because once I start, I can assure you; there’s no going back.”

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him inside you. “I need you inside me.” you whisper, your voice heavy with desire.

Logan growls low in his throat, and finally, mercifully, he pushes inside you, filling you with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you gasp. The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch and fullness making your head spin as he sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. He pauses, letting you adjust, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost reverent kiss.

Then he begins to move, each thrust deep and powerful, driving you both closer to the edge with every stroke. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he moves inside you, his gaze locked on yours as if he’s taking in every expression, every moan, every gasp.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. You do, your eyes meeting his in a drunken haze. You moan, your body trembling beneath him, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming. Every thrust, every movement, is perfectly timed, his body attuned to yours in a way that almost didn’t feel real.

“Logan,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need. “It’s so… much.”

He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice full of rough affection. “But you can take it,” He spits.

The praise, the way he’s looking at you, it all builds the tension inside you to a fever pitch. His gaze never wavers, holding yours as he moves deeper, harder. You can’t help the soft whimpers that escape your lips, your body tightening around him with each powerful stroke. Logan’s grip on your hips tightens, and he groans, his eyes darkening further as he watches you come undone beneath him.

“Don’t hold back,” he growls, his voice full of animalistic need. “Let me see you, I want it all.”

“Logan… I—” The words catch in your throat as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, your body arching beneath him.

He growls your name, a primal sound full of need, as he moves faster, harder, both you and Logan knew you were close.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his voice ragged, his gaze locked on yours.

And you do. With a cry, you shatter around him, the pleasure crashing over you like a wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Logan follows you over the edge, his own release tearing through him as he groans your name.

When it’s over, Logan collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is quiet now, the air thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. You nestle against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The tension that had built up between you over the past few days finally snapped, and here you both are, tangled in the aftermath.

You shift beside him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat. He turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a hint of unease, maybe even regret. “You sure this was okay?” His voice is rough, laced with concern, and that old nickname hangs in the air like a habit he can’t break. “Kid.”

You meet his gaze, holding it, making sure he sees you clearly. “Logan,” you say, your voice steady, “I’m not a kid anymore. You need to stop treating me like one.”

He exhales, a long, controlled breath, as if he’s trying to push down everything he’s feeling. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, the words heavy.

A small, wry smile tugs at your lips as you prop yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “You’re not taking advantage of me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your tone is straightforward, cutting through his doubts. “I wanted this as much as you did. I think, maybe even more…” You trail off.

He looks away, eyes flicking back to the ceiling, his hand finding its way to your back, fingers brushing your skin in a gesture that feels almost hesitant. “I’ve done things... seen things. Sometimes I’m not sure what’s right anymore.”

You lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to make sure he feels it, really feels it. When you pull back, you hold his gaze, your voice low but firm. “I know what I’m getting into.”

He’s quiet, his hand tightening on your back just a little, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. He doesn’t say anything else, just pulls you closer, holding you like you’re the one solid thing in a world that’s always shifting beneath his feet.

[steggyisnthere]

HCs of what it would be like dating the main 4+ butters Fem!Reader

(characters aged up to 16-17)

word count (607)

warnings - a couple swear words and a bit of suggestiveness

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

stan 💙🌿💨

he would definitely tease you a lot, but lovingly for sure

‘y/n you’re so stupid’

‘my stupid tho...’

he would be okay with a little bit of PDA in public, like holding hands or a small peck before class but anything else will legit make him puke lol

he’d be a bit hesitant to introduce you to his family, because of Shelly and Randy but yk he would do it eventually

If you don't like him smoking, wouldn’t do it near you <3

would defo talk to you about the most stupid things but you two were chill with that

dates would be a lot of movie nights, in and out 💙

calls you ‘babe’ or your nickname, ‘

kyle ✡️💚🏀

Kyle would try to be really romantic and want you to feel comfortable in your relationship 

he’d try to be THAT guy because he’s a bit worried you might leave him

he likes some PDA in public like holding hands, leaning on shoulders, and kissing but he would be WAY more cuddly in private

he wouldn’t mind introducing you to his family at ALL, Shelia legit loves you the first time you meet

you two would talk about deep sentimental things a lot of the time, to be honest

for dates, you two would like to read in together or go to the library, and sometimes breakfast or brunch dates 💚

he would call you ‘love, honey, sweetheart’ and if you were fortunate ‘darling’

Kenny 🧡🐈‍🧸

Kenny defo the biggest dirty mind out of all of these guys

he is so overconfident with his rizz it’s hilarious 💀 

‘hey babe, are you a highway cuz I wanna ride you all night i lost my phone number, can I have yours instead?’

LIVES FOR PDA, bro is all over you, smooching, hugging, holding your arm, hugging, public and private 

would also be hesitant to introduce you to the fam because of how poor he is 😭 

if you get along with Karen tho, he’s gonna be so happy 

you two talk about a lot of sex-related stuff, like ‘how do girls even jerk off’ but you two are very open-minded about it, don’t worry

If you don't like him smoking, will try his best not to do it in front of you

For dates, you and Kenny would go to the park or some cheap-ass diner (all he can afford is the water but it’s the thought that counts, right?)

He would call you the most ridiculous names to annoy you ‘pookie, honey-babe, sexy, wifey’ but would mostly call you ‘babe.’

Eric ❤️🍟🍗

He’s mean to you, but deep down he really loves you, promise

Thinks you and him are the shit, for real

PDA is a no unless he’s trying to be nice, but in private he won’t mind a few kisses and cuddles here and there

Won’t be bothered to introduce you to Liane unless you asked first because he is a lazy piece of shit

You two talk shiz about EVERYONE at school

Ya’ll are either feared as a couple or like ‘wtf how did they get together’

For dates, he’d take you out to eat or you’d play Roblox and bully kids together <3

He would call you your normal name, but sometimes, just sometimes he calls you ‘babe’

Butters 🧈 🦋 💙

He is the sweetest most innocent boyfriend everrrrr 😭

Will always be around, a little needy at times

PDA, he’s all for it. Butters is all over you, hugging and kissing and always holding your hand aww

Is also hesitant to introduce you to his family because his parents are fkn idiots meany poos

You guys talk about Hello Kitty and literally everything nice under the sun

Practices how to ask you on dates in the mirror-

He would take you to the park to go on a walk, and sometimes to the movies too <3

He would call you your name or sometimes ‘lovely’ because that's what he does best

[forgottenghosty]

BEETLEJUICE 2 Theory…

I wonder if Beetlejuice skipped out on the waiting room 35 plus years ago.

Here’s my theory why, when we see the shrunken head guy in the 2nd trailer he’s wearing Bee’s suit and then is being yelled at by William Defoe’s character on where Beetlejuice is.

What if at the end of the first movie when he got his head shrunk, he used that as a way to switch with the shrunk head ghost?

Both have tiny heads and he’d just juice up a suit on the guy before fleeing.

Shrunk head ghost can’t talk so to his mouth stitched shut and so would be just sitting in the lobby unable to say what happened or alert anyone.

William Defoe’s ghost I am also theorizing isn’t a social worker, but some form of law officer.

We know in life he was a detective, but we don’t know for sure how he died yet.

We do see his skull and part of his face bone exposed so it was a head injury.

My guess upon seeing him is he blow his own brains out and was made to work in law enforcement in the Neitherworld as he was already trained.

That or someone shot or bashed him in the head and he chose to keep working and joined Neitherworld law enforcement.

If he he is a social worker though, then he did kill himself in some manner head related.

Why I guess law enforcement is Beetlejuice did do something I would say is taboo and possibly illegal by trying to marry a breathing living person.

If it wasn’t illegal then every ghost would be trying it.

In the end, he either escaped early on or later and had been in hiding until he can go after Lydia.

I also wonder if he’s technically still legally married to his last wife. We know he was previously married and it is speculation if not very probable that the new actress looking for Bee is said wife.

She has a missing ring finger, which Bee had a finger and a ring in the first movie.

From the looks of her, she may have taken something to the head that killed her as her face has stitching.

My speculation is she may have been axed in the head.

The questions though, was she alive or dead when she lost her finger and was she alive or dead when she married Beetlejuice?

Will his infidelity be the reason he was cursed by the three name call?

We were hinted that we’ll learn more about Beetlejuice’s past and I wonder if we’ll learn about his death and maybe his life.

I’ve often questioned if he killed himself or not. We know he worked with Juno, but he freely left his job with her and started his business.

Does that mean he joined social work willingly at death and became bitter and raged against the system or was he forced and found a loop hole or reached the end of sentence?

I imagine he couldn’t have met the end of sentence as we see Juno was still working in social work and was his senior.

Manner of death as well has always been a question. Though he may have looked very different as a newly dead and changed his looks and behavior later on.

We see he has a skill with spinning his head, so could be decapitation.

Juno most likely slit her throat as we see smoke come from her neck.

If not decapitation it may have been poison, drowning or hanging.

We see no physical markings on him to indicate anything brutal happened to cause his death.

We see sunken dark circles around his eyes, pale complexion and moss.

This could be he drowned or was left somewhere moist after death.

Possibly a swamp or forest?

If he hung, then he likely suffocated and didn’t die instantly from a broken neck, though you’d think he’d have a rope around his neck.

Poison you’d think he’d possibly have foam or vomit around his mouth or on his clothing. Though he easily changes his clothing and looks, so it’s hard to say.

If we take into consideration he may have been married in life, and take in the clues, he may have been a Blue Beard type.

I say this as if he may have killed his wife in life and if he was a captain of a ship, perhaps his ship went down in storm and he drowned.

We know that the ghosts that drown don’t stay wet after death and look normal.

But what if a body is left to rot where it died? Does that affect the ghost form?

In Crimson Peak I’ve had the theory that the ghosts can choose their form depending on emotions.

If they wish to frighten they take upon the form of their bodies current state in death. Showing how far they’ve rotten as well as their manner of death.

They can also look unharmed and change their clothing to their liking as well.

Why I wonder if Beetlejuice could have hidden his cause of death.

Though I bring up the idea of him as a Blue Beard type, I don’t really feel he is the type to actually try and kill anyone.

We see him torment and injure, but not kill.

He enjoys watching the fear alone.

One could say he killed the Deetez’ friends during his circus weighted hammer show, but I highly doubt it. He’s all about physical comedy and causing horror.

They likely survived, but injured all the same.

It could be he was killed and that was related or not to his wife.

We’ll just have to wait and see.

[augustghosts]

1984 - Eddie Munson

Eddie and Readers first year together, and how they first met. 

This is a prequel to 1987 and 1988. But can defo be read alone!

word count: 5.5k

Warnings: 18+ as usual, gets spicy a few times. But no descriptive smut in this one, sorry </3 Smoking and drinking mentioned, same as the other chapters! A meet cute and some first times. Allusions to sex at the end of almost every month, someone needs to stop me lmao. More stolen song lyrics but from radiohead this time hehe

also not proofread so lmk if you spot any mistakes <3

January, 1984. 18 year old Eddie Munson is leaning against his newly acquired van. Proud. Ripped black jeans, leather jacket. Typical Eddie. A style he will come to find hard to let go of. Legs crossed over one another, lighting a cigarette. It’s late, about an hour and a half after the bell rang to signify the end of the school day. Cold, too. 

“Fuck!” The curse word being thrust out into the air makes him jump. The source coming from the other side of his vehicle, a few spaces down. 

“Stupid fucking thing!” He hears the voice again, along with a sputtering engine. He’s instantly curious, rounding his car to have a peek. He sees her car door open. She sat in the driver seat, turning the key over and over again as if it would help. It doesn’t. He smirks, because it’s her. The girl he’d admired from afar for years. Fuck, was this his chance? 

Fuck it, he thinks. “You okay?” He asks. Brave of him, to be honest.  She whirls around, she looks scared, like she was expecting someone else. Her face relaxes when she realises it’s just another student. Eddie can’t help but look her up and down as she steps out of her car. He doesn’t miss that she does the same to him. 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks” She’s still watching him. She’d always thought he was cute. But they’d never really been in the same room, let alone close enough to have a conversation. Despite being in the same grade for years. 

“You sure?” He laughs. 

“Well, I don't know.” She laughs back, “It won’t start. I don’t know about cars, I barely know how to drive them.” 

He laughs again, a genuine laugh. “Want me to take a look?” He takes his chance. Shoots his shot. 

“You know about cars?” 

“A little.” He says, he walks around to the front of her car. When he lifts the hood, a cloud of smoke starts to surround him. He coughs slightly, taking a step back. Mumbles a fucking hell. 

“Do you know about that?”She gestures to the smoke. She’s laughing again. It’s beautiful, be thinks. 

“Um, no.” He says, pretending to get a good look at the engine. Fake concentration on his face as he closes the hood. Smoke still billows from the sides. “But, what i I do know is that it looks pretty fucked. So…” 

“I hope not.” Her face falls, he feels guilty. “I can’t afford another one. You got any more of those?” 

She’s pointing to the cigarette in his mouth. He digs around in his pocket and passes her the pack. He watches as she lights one, he watches her lips as she inhales. They share a quiet moment - he breaks it. 

“So uh, can you get home okay?” 

“Yeah. I don’t live that far.” She gets her bag out the front seat and locks the doors. 

“You’re gonna walk?” He asks. 

“Yeah?” She’s already started stepping away from him.

“Wait!” He calls after her. Too much, he thinks. “I can um, can I give you a ride? If you like?” 

“Are you trying to lure me into your car? Don’t you know they’re teaching us that that’s unsafe now?” 

“No! No i was just-“ He starts to back track, suddenly afraid of how creepy his offer was. 

“I was kidding!” She cuts him off. He mumbles an oh and laughs with her. She continues: “It’s okay though, really. It’s not far.” 

“Even more reason for me to drive you. Please? I can’t let such a fair maiden walk home alone.” He tries to make her laugh again, already missing the sound. It works. 

“Fuck it.” She says, “Why not? There’s witnesses over there though, by the way.” She points to the jocks hanging around outside the gym. 

“Bunch of pricks.” Eddie says as he holds the door open for her. Her laugh makes him smile bigger than he has in weeks. 

February. Hawkins High library, late afternoon. Eddie feels like everyone is looking at him. “Eddie, we’re fine.” She says, not even looking up from her paper but she knows what he’s doing. Surveying the room to glare at anyone staring at him, anyone wondering why the hell Eddie Munson was in a library with a girl. One of the most beautiful girls in school, at that. 

“I’m not getting this anyway.” He says, throwing the pencil down in front of him and leaning back in his chair. She watches as he spreads his legs, getting comfortable. Her eyes on his thighs - he notices. 

“You are! You’re a lot smarter than you think.” She gestures to the paper in front of him, where she had drawn green ticks and a smiley face on the page when he had asked her to look it over. After that night he dropped her home a month ago, he had come back to help her call a tow company to come get her car. He had recommended a mechanic for her and even gone with her to make sure she ‘didn’t get ripped off’ - his own words. She had started buying weed off of him as an excuse to hang out. They had kissed once in his trailer and then not spoken for a week. He had asked her to help him study. His excuse to hang out again , and here they were. 

“Yeah right.” He mumbles, looking around nervously again. “I need a smoke.” 

“Let’s go.” She says softly. He watches her hands as she packs up her things. He lets her leave first, so that he can snatch up the piece of paper she had drawn the smiley face on and stuff it into his pocket. It was too cute to leave behind. 

“You know,” He starts talking after they both had cigarettes in their hands, he had lit hers for her and she had looked into his eyes and it made his cock stir. Made him think about the night he had invited her into his place to watch a movie and she had ended up underneath him on the couch. He shakes his head, as if that would make the image of her swollen lips leave his mind, and he continues - “I appreciate you helping me and all but, it makes me wonder why.” 

“What?” She’s leaning against the wall facing him. He’s looking forward, her eyes burning into the side of his face. 

“Why are you helping me?” He repeats. She smiles, he’s about to ask her what’s funny when she lifts her hand to his cheek. He freezes, his stomach flips and his skin tingles as she moves her hand to the back of his neck. She leans up and slowly tugs him down, he feels stupid about how still he’s being right now. When their lips meet he jumps into action, moving his free hand to her waist. The kiss ends too soon when she pulls away and says: “That’s why I'm helping you.” 

March. A cold night, Eddie’s porch. His jacket around her shoulders. Lit cigarettes and empty bottles. Sitting so close that their legs touch, skin tingling. He thought she looked beautiful. “It’s fucking freezing.” She whispered from where her head was on his shoulder. 

“I know,” He was shivering too. “I’m trying not to smoke in the trailer anymore, my ceiling is starting to turn a weird colour.” 

“Ew,” She laughed. “That’s gross.” 

“Yeah, that’s why I'm not doing it.” He laughed back. He turned his head slightly to look down at her. She stood up, holding out her hand. 

“Come on.” 

He took her hand, as always, and let her lead him inside. She shrugged his jacket off of her shoulders and turned to face him, winding her arms around his neck. He smiled against her lips as she leaned up to kiss him. They had only kissed a few times, Eddie felt like his soul was alight every single time. His hands resting on her hips, kind of stiff - nervous. She always made it better, made him better. As the kiss heated up, tongues and hands wandered. She turned to gently shove him down to sit on the couch. 

“Fuck.” He murmured as she climbed onto his lap. Shit, he could already feel his cock stirring. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but she was practically sitting on his crotch right now. He shifted slightly underneath her, her lips travelling to his throat not helping the situation. Her giggle in his ear when he groaned and squeezed her waist. He was screwed. 

“Baby, i-” He pulled away, stopping himself mid sentence. He had never called her that before, they had never used pet names with each other, his mind was reeling - unsure of what to say apart from a small sorry mumbled under his breath. 

“What are you sorry for? The nickname or your boner?” 

His face reddened, he could feel the heat of his skin. Actually, his whole body felt kind of hot. Should he open a window? “Uhm, both. I guess.” He said, sheepish. 

“Don’t be,” She said, grinding down against him. He was leaning back now on one of his elbows, his other hand resting on her thigh. His eyes on her hips. “I like it.” Her hands travelled down his chest. She clarified: “Both.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, palm running up and down her leg, his fingers inching closer to her inner thigh.  She hummed in agreement. Pulling his face up to kiss him. “I don’t wanna fuck you for the first time on this couch though.” He says, the trailer filled with giggling as he scooped her into his arms. 

“As if that mattress of yours is any better.” 

April. Eddie’s bed, early morning. She’s still asleep beside him. She’d been staying over a lot recently. He loved it. They need to get up for school, but the breeze coming through the window is tempting him to stay underneath the sheets. Her body is warm beside him, he loves not sleeping alone. He thinks about going back to sleep and pretending he was never awake. When she wakes up panicking about missing school he’ll just shrug and lure her back into bed. But he knows how much she cares, knows how much she wants to graduate. Knows how much she wants him to graduate. He watches her for a little while longer, she looks ethereal. He knows what he wants to say. He just can’t seem to find the words. Maybe one day. 

He gets up, trudging to the kitchen as quietly as he can. Aware that he’s the only one awake in the place. They don’t have much, and he doesn’t know how to make the coffee she likes. He leaves that to her. So he just places some toast into the toaster and waits. She has a habit of not eating before school, he hates it. When he returns she's still sleeping, he places the plate down. Crawling on top of the covers to hover over her. When he places a kiss on her forehead her nose scrunches, he leans down to kiss that too. She groans as she wakes, his name being mumbled. He presses another kiss to her cheek, “Morning.” He mumbles. 

“Hi.” She whispers, grasping his chin in one hand to squeeze his cheeks. Pulling him down to kiss her lips. 

“I made you some breakfast.” He’s still whispering, their faces inches apart. “We don’t have long, you just looked so cute in my bed.” 

She laughs, reaching for the toast. Watching him walk around the room, picking up clothes. Hers and his. 

“What are you staring at?” He asks, he’s shirtless. Only a pair of sweats on his hips from when he went to the kitchen. 

“You.” She says, “Come here.” 

“We need to start getting ready.” He reminds her, but he obliges anyway. He really means that she needs to start getting ready. He can get ready in 5 minutes, but he doesn’t single her out - he knows better. He crawls to her, she's sitting up - he pushes her back down. His arms caging her in,  his hips anchoring to hers.

“I think we can be late today.” She whispers into his mouth. 

“Only if you can be quiet for me,” He says, “We don’t want to traumatise Wayne.”

May. He knows the sound of her car by now. He springs up from his seat on the couch, stepping over to the door to meet her at the bottom of the steps. “How are you feeling?” He asked, opening his arms to take her in immediately, when she met him at the bottom. She hadn’t been at school today, she didn’t feel good. He had felt lost.

“Like I got hit by a bus.” She jokes into his chest. He doesn’t laugh. She pulls away from him to walk up the steps, to escape the chilly air.

“I would have come to you.” He says, following closely behind her. “I wanted to come pick you up.”

“I was fine driving. And I feel better here, this is where I wanna be.” He never understood that, she loved his bedroom. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want a drink?”

“I’m fine, Ed’s.” She laughs at how worried he looks. It also breaks her heart, he cares so much. “I just want to rest, I think. Can we put a movie on?”

“Yeah, sure.” He’s touching her again, caressing her back. Always comforting, always wanting her close. Anything he can think of to make her feel better. He knows she craves his touch, just like he craves hers. She goes to sit on the couch but he stops her, “Nope! No, bed rest!” He exclaims, pointing to his bedroom. He looks like a mother telling her child to go to bed.

“Bed rest?” She laughs, “But the tv is in here?” She points to the square television on the stand. 

“I’m gonna wheel it in.” Eddie says, already crouching to untangle the wires. 

“No, Eddie, we can sit in here!”

“No, no, no.” He mumbles, still behind the tv. “Go!” He says, pointing to his bedroom door again. She laughs, but obliges. Eventually, he gets the tv stand into his room. 

“Where are you going?” She asks from under his covers as he turns to leave. 

“I’m gonna get you a drink, and some snacks,” He sits on the edge of the bed to put his palm on her forehead, as if he knew what he was doing. “And then I'm gonna come back and I'm gonna be your doctor.” 

“My doctor?” She laughs, he’s trying to push her down now, trying to pull the covers up to her chin and tuck her in. 

“Yep.” He says, matter of factly. He stands to leave, her heart swells as she thinks about him. How much he cares, he had even wanted to leave school today to do this. She had convinced him to stay over the phone. She came to a conclusion recently: she loves him. He returns with snacks and water bottles, mumbling about how he’ll go to the pharmacy when she is asleep and clean out the cold and flu shelves. Getting her everything she needed. She smiles as he climbs into bed with her, encouraging her to eat and drink, threatening to feed them to her if he had too. 

“Hey.” She mumbles, an hour into the movie. He hums, not looking at her, his eyes focused on the screen, chips being shovelled into his mouth. 

“I love you.” She whispers, so low that he isn’t even sure he had heard her right. His mouth stops chewing, his eyes stay glued to the screen. She can almost see the gears turning in his head. 

“What?” Is the conclusion he comes too, idiot - he thinks. He’s looking at her now, deer in headlights. 

“I said that I love you.” 

“Really?” His voice is so soft, she’s almost worried. Worried that she had scared him or that he didn’t reciprocate.

”Yes, Eddie.” She confirms. He’s hesitating. Fuck. He wants to say it back, needs to. He doesn’t know how. She understands, so she just kisses him softly on the cheek and settles back into his side to watch the movie. He breaks the silence with: “Am i gonna get sick now too? Because you just kissed me on the cheek?” 

“Probably. Then I'll get to take care of you.”

June. 4am. Eddie wonders if other people feel like this. If anyone else ever feels like some kind of puppet on a string. As if he’s being controlled, the things he’s doing are just to impress other people. Headaches, emphasising pain. She’s asleep in his bed, a usual night for them now. He’s sitting by the window, cigarette in hand. Her velvet skin under velvet sheets, all he wants is to be in there beside her. He knows he won’t sleep, he doesn’t want to disturb her. Sometimes he feels like she is too fast to keep up with. While he tries to take things slow, she likes to dive in. Too fast for her own shadow. Silver lining, he always looks forward to seeing her. She keeps him busy. Galloping through his mind even when she isn’t with him. Loneliness - no more. Doesn’t want to be anywhere she’s not and this frustrates the shit out of him.

He finishes his cigarette, closing the window. No help, to be honest, the room always smells of smoke regardless. She doesn’t mind. He crawls back in bed beside her, she shuffles slightly. Pushing back into him, his arm rests over her frame. Warm and safe. So strange to him, still now. The next morning, he watches as she stands in his small  kitchen, making two drinks.  “Why are you watching me?” She laughs. 

“I don’t know. I zoned out, you just look so good.” He smirks as she reaches for him, pulling him into a hug. He holds her tightly for a moment. She strokes his hair.

“You look tired.” She mumbles, her hand on his face, thumb tracing underneath his eye. “You should sleep at night instead of smoking out the window.”

He laughs before taking a sip of the coffee she had made and says: “Do I look like someone who prefers sleeping over smoking out the window?” 

July. It’s cold. The kind of cold that makes your nose and ears and hands feel like ice. You can put gloves on, slip on a hat. But they still feel cold underneath.  God, her brother would kill her if he knew she was sitting beside Eddie in his van, the joint being passed between them is almost done. The end fizzling orange as she watches him inhale the smoke before it circles around them in the van. What’s the fun in doing what you’re told? He’s watching her, she’s starting to think he can hear her internal monologue. Because right now, her eyes are travelling down his legs - thinking about how tightly the denim sits around his thighs. 

“Give it a rest.” He smirks. She jumps at the sound of his voice, he smirks wider.

“What?” 

“Stop staring at me.” He says. 

“You don’t like it?” She tries, her smirk mimicking his. 

“Depends.” He says, playfully. “Are you gonna come over here? Or are you gonna keep watching me  from afar?” 

She smiles - beautifully, he thinks. She practically crawls over to him, his eyes moving straight to her chest as she leans forward. Beautiful enough to break his heart. Her eyes were bright enough to pick it up and put it back together again. “Your hands are cold.” He laughs as she cradles his face. She’s sitting on his lap now, her thighs framing him. His eyes rake over her and her stomach stirs. 

“Warm them up then.” She says, bringing her mouth to his. Her hands winding around his warm neck. His large palms move to her chest straight away. 

“Eager?” She asks. He scoffs, pulling away from her mouth. 

“Of course, look at these things!” He unbuttones the blouse she has on, just enough to get a glimpse of the way her tits sit in the cups of her bra. He practically moans and adjusts the way he’s sitting beneath her. Their crotches brush against each others as they continue to kiss. Messily and rushed. Hot - hands wandering and squeezing. Eddie, as vocal as ever, groaning against her neck as his pilowy lips meet the warm skin there. Lips exploring - Hands gripping, squeezing her chest. Soft, loving. 

“What do you want?” He whispered against her lips, bringing his head back up to brush his mouth against hers, not quite touching. 

“Use your hands.” She smirked back at him. His ringed fingers coming up to cup her jaw. 

“What? These?” He laughs, wiggling his fingers in front of her face for effect. She nodded, grasping his wrist as he brought his hand up to her mouth, his thumb running across her bottom lip. Holding back a moan when she took it into her lips. Her tongue - warm, soft. His cock hardens in his jeans as the sun sets over them. As Eddie’s hands travel lower, the van eventually heats up to her liking. 

August. 11am, she emerges from her car. A small jog as she makes her way towards him, leaning against the door frame. Waiting for her as usual.

 “Hey!” She beams as she hops in. “How are you?” 

“I’m alright.” He says, she laughs. It's early for him, 11. He looks tired, she can tell. Half an hour later they’re in his bedroom. He’s pulling out his pack of cigarettes as she flips through a magazine he had beside his bed. He’s nervous for a second, relieved when he leans over to see that it’s an appropriate one. He thinks she probably wouldn't care anyway. 

“Ed’s, it’s still early. That’s not good for you.” Her usual rant. She smokes too, but she read in a magazine somewhere that smoking as soon as you wake up isn’t good for you. As if smoking is good for you at all. He’s seen her break that a few times, but he never says anything. He laughs around the cigarette that's now in his mouth. Fizzling orange, burning paper as he lights it. Smoke curling around the room. A roll of her eyes as she goes back to the magazine. Roaming the streets of Hawkins together - she should know by now, him smoking by 11am, is nothing.  Eddie has his notebook on his lap - D&D stuff. She never asked to see it, knew he wouldn’t let her. He was an amazing artist. He had wonderful visions. His campaigns are always so beautiful. Not that he ever let her see, but what she had heard was always good.

“It does make us look cool.” She joked. “Especially you.”

“Since when have you thought I was cool?” He laughs. She looks up from the magazine. 

“Hey! I’ve always thought you were cool!” 

“Yeah, right.” They both laugh. When it dies down, she continues. 

“I do. You’re my own personal bad boy.” 

He almost chokes. He hates that his stomach stirs at her words. He pushes it down, trying to keep joking instead. 

“Bad boy, huh?” Hm, maybe the wrong way to go. It comes out more suggestive than he intended. 

“Well, yeah.” She gestured to him, the room she’s sitting in. The cigarette in his hand, the posters and the guitar on the wall. 

“And, the yours part? What makes you think I'm yours?” Fuck, he’s really trying his luck here. His sudden wave of confidence so early in the morning surprised her.

“Of course you’re mine.” He doesn't miss the way her voice has dropped. “Who else’s are you?” 

“Well, you are the one sitting in my bedroom right now. I’ve never had any other girl in here.” 

“Mhm.” She hums in agreement. Her fingers stop flicking through the magazine. She pushes it aside and stands up. He gulps, watching as she approaches where he’s sitting, his back against the headboard, legs outstretched. He thought that maybe he had overstepped by mentioning the girl thing. He shuffles back more, sitting up straighter as she moves down to straddle his lap. Taking his cigarette from his fingers. She puts on her own mouth, his eyebrows raised. A comment about her 'it's too early’ rant on the tip of his tongue. He decides against saying anything when he realises her chest is inches from his face. 

“Am i going to have to remind you who you belong too?” She asks. He’s shocked for a second, his hands staying by his side. He snaps out of it, slowly bringing his hands up to wrap around her, his palms resting on her bum. 

“Hmm,” He leans in to press his lips to her chest, just above the v neck of her shirt. “I think you might have too. I seem to have forgotten.” His stomach swirls in anticipation at the sparkle in her eyes. 

September. The Hideout. Always busy on a Saturday. Eddie is leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. Looking down at his feet, dirty reeboks. Kicking stones around on the ground. The stars twinkled above him,

loud music behind him. The brick wall was cold underneath his shoulder. He looks up when a pair of equally dirty converse appear next to his own shoes. She doesn't say anything, just reaches into his pocket for his lighter. 

“Are you gonna stay?” She asks, looking up at the sky. 

“What’s the point? Our set sucked.” He’s miserable, she can tell. 

“No it didn’t.” She says softly, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear. His gorgeous side profile glowing in the light. He scoffs, doesn’t believe her. “I’m not lying, you’re always good.” 

“I disagree.” He mumbled, inhaling the last of the smoke before throwing the glowing end on the ground. She smiles, her hand still in his hair. Resting on the side of his head, he leans into her hand and brings his own up to grasp it. “I’m tired anyway.” 

“Yeah, and it’s a saturday. You should be taking me on a romantic date.” She smirks.

“Bringing you to my show, for free, may I add - you don’t think that’s romantic?”

She turns to look back inside the venue, pretends to think about what he said. He laughs - “No.” She finally says, reaching for him to pull him close. “There isn’t any romance around here.”

“Oh, baby,” He whispers, his hands grasping onto her waist. “I think I disagree.” He leans down to kiss her, sloppily and messy. She laughed against his lips, a small ew whispered between kisses. “C’mon.” He mumbles, his hands on her waist guiding her to walk in front of him, delivering a small smack to her ass. “I wanna get you home, then I'll show you what romance is.”

October. “Oh, that’s funny!” She laughs sarcastically, Eddie cringes at the venom in her voice. 

“What? You think you’re special or something?” He retorts. “I can’t just cancel shit for you all the time!”

“All the time? I just wanted one night, Eddie!” 

He knows she's right, he had promised her. But he just can’t admit that he was wrong, a lifelong habit and burden he’d possessed. He’s struggling to keep his cool. Her standing opposite him, he can practically feel the anger radiating off of her. She stares at him for a moment, when she doesn’t get a reply, she sighs. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, a pause when she swings open the door. It’s raining, fucking hard. Eddie can see the conflict, he almost smiles - thinking he’d won. That she’d stay. His smile falls as she walks outside into the rain, slamming his front door. The whole trailer feels like it shakes. 

“Shit.” He mumbles, he rushes to the door but pauses - hand on the handle. He debates letting her go, but decides he isn’t that stubborn. And it’s dark. 

“Hey!” He yells at her, she’s already pretty far away. “Come back!”

He may not be stubborn enough to let her go, but she is stubborn enough to walk all the way to her house in the dark and rain. So he moves fast, practically sprints until he’s a few steps behind her. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.” He says, speaking up to be heard over the rain hitting the pavement. 

“You’re the fucking idiot. I thought you were going to your stupid club?” She turns to face him, they’d only been outside for a minute or two but they were both already soaked.

He ignores her comment, he’s decided they aren’t going to fight anymore tonight. “Come back inside.” She pulls her arms away when he reaches for it, trying to walk away. He’s stronger than her, so he stops her from walking by grabbing both her shoulders as gently as he can. He can feel she’s shivering. 

“Get off, Eddie!” She says, a little too loudly. God, he hopes none of the neighbours are watching this. 

“Come back, you’re not walking in this fucking rain. And I'm not driving in it either. So come back, for tonight. I’ll sleep on the damn couch if that’s what you want and I'll take you home tomorrow.” 

“No.” She tries to walk away from him again. But she turns to look at him sympathetically when he says “Please?”

He looks pathetic, wet hair, wet clothes. His bangs stuck to his skin. She knows she doesn’t look any better. She sighs, ripping away from him again but this time to turn and walk back towards the trailer. The warmth of the inside is familiar and welcoming. Eddie steps in behind her, both their clothes dripping water onto the floor. She’s the first to laugh. Now he’s a whole new level of confused. He just stares at her. 

“You look stupid.” She laughs, he looks adorable. In all honesty. But she doesn’t want to say that right now.

“Do you think you look any better?” He’s laughing now too. 

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, by the way.” She says quietly.

“Oh, gee, thanks.” He laughs. She watches as he makes his way to the bathroom, the sound of his shower running. “You know, i’ve never tested it out but, i’m pretty sure this is big enough for two people.”

“Hmm,” She pretends to think, joining him in the bathroom doorway. “It might be, if we stand close enough together.”

“Oh we will be.” He says stepping into the bathroom. “We need to be close enough for me to apologise properly.” 

November. ‘The sun, the moon and the stars are you.’ Eddie had no idea what that meant. But it made his heart twist. It made his stomach flip and tears form in his eyes. The next line, ‘You, me and everything. Always.’  This is what he’d been doing for days. Skimming the page, the note she’d left on his bedside table. Eddie never understood poetry.

“Are you still reading that thing?” 

He looks up towards her voice from where he’s seated on his bed, she’s watching him expectantly. 

“It was only supposed to be fun, Ed’s.  Don’t read too much into it.” 

He doesn’t believe her. He knows he’s made her nervous by constantly reading and re reading the note. He’s made her think he didn’t like it, maybe she even thought that he thought it was weird. It was the total opposite - he was going to keep it forever. He put the note down and reached out his hands. She walked forward, taking his hands and letting him pull her between his legs. 

“I love you.” He says against her skin after brimming her knuckles up to his lips. She says it back - he’ll never tire of it. “you’re mine.” He whispers into the skin of her wrist as she cups his face. She hums in agreement, admiring him. 

“Say it.” He says. glancing up at her with a grin. She smirks back, pulling her hands from his grasp. Resting her fingertips on his jaw to tilt his head back. Fully looking at her, his mouth falls slightly open. 

“I’m yours, Ed’s.” She leans down, their lips brushing. He breathes out - shuddering. 

“Forever?” He teases. Still grinning at her. The pure love in his eyes makes her heart feel like it’s going to leave her chest and fly away. She knows he means it, and so does she. 

“Forever.” She replies. Not being able to resist the love sick look in his eyes any longer - succumbing to the feeling and leaning down to kiss him properly. Drowning in him - his love. She manouvers herself onto his lap, her legs caging him. He leans back onto his elbows, admiring the sight of her sitting on his thighs. She’s above him again, her necklace hanging down in front of his face. Her lips found his again, a peck before travelling to his jaw. He moans breathlessly before asking - “Will you stay tonight?” His hands come up to grip her ass - pleading. 

“I really shouldn’t.” She whispers against his ear. Excitement brewing in his stomach as her warm breath washes over his skin. He massages the skin in his hands mumbling a please.

“Do you get upset when I leave?” She asks. She wants to hear him say it. She selfishly wants to hear him beg her to stay, hear him tell her that he misses her when she leaves. He understands what she wants and smirks, his voice lowering - raspy, when he says. “Oh baby, of course I do. I cry when you leave.” 

“Cry?” She giggles. 

“Well,” He pulls her ass forwards, her centre brushing against the bulge beginning to form in his jeans. He doesn’t miss the way she bites her lip as the denim pushes against her. “I cry on the inside.” 

She laughs, his favourite sound, and sits back to take off her shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, his eyes going straight to her chest. His hands squeezing her hips. 

“Well,” She says, leaning back down to him. “Then I guess I'll have to stay.” 

December. Eddie, scanning the shelves in a grocery store. List in hand.  “He should settle down and find himself a wife! That's what he needs!” He overhears a woman say, a conversation between two friends. He had always hated societal norms. He had kind of made it his reputation, anyone would tell you. The whole settling down thing had never been on the cards for him. Until now - until he met her. As cheesy as that sounds, he hated saying it. Hated even thinking about it, the fear that would stir inside of him felt like no other. 

Although, he feels that he doesn’t have to marry her. He wants too, god he wants too. The thought of calling her his wife did something to him. But, he doesn’t feel like he needs a ring to prove how much he loves her, he already knows neither of them is going to leave. And he knows that she knows as well. 

He leaves the aisle he’s currently on, wondering where she had run off too. As soon as he sees the sign pointing to the Christmas decoration aisle, a small smile forms on his lips. He was right, and when he turned the corner he saw her further down the aisle. The cart was significantly fuller than when she had left him. Christmas cards and wrapping paper piled on top of their groceries. Some colourful lights there too. 

“No tinsel.” He says as he approaches her, a small laugh when she jumps at his voice. “I hate that stuff.” 

She laughs before saying, “You need this!” He follows where she's pointing, to one of those small trees that are made for desktops. 

“Do I need it? For what?” 

“For your bedroom! It’ll look so cute.” She’s smiling so big, he feels like he can’t say no. Honestly, he doesn't want a tree in his room. But he can almost see the way her face will light up whenever she walks in and sees it. He can’t miss that. He would never deny her, so he says, “Okay.” And dumps the box into the cart. Just as he predicted, she smiles so big that he can’t help but smile back. 

“What’s next?” She asks, pointing to the list in his hand. 

“Uhm,” He scans the paper, her adorable handwriting clouding his mind, “I think we got everything.” 

“Are you just saying that because you wanna leave?” She asks, hands on her hips. “Because this is very important stuff.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes!” She genuinely looks shocked. “It’s Saturday, Ed’s. It’s movie night. These snacks are very, very important.”  

“Well, as long as we have popcorn, I think we’re good to go.” His eyes scan the multiple bags she had thrown in. 

“You can never have enough.” She says, watching his eyes scan the cart. Predicting what he was going to say. 

“I think you can, actually.” He mumbles, more to himself, as she passes him with the cart. 

“What do you want for christmas?” She asks him, surprising him.

“Nothing.” He wants to avoid this conversation, he hates receiving gifts. He already has hers, in a little box next to his bed. In the draw buried underneath his heavy metal magazines, somewhere he knows she won’t look. 

“Don’t be stupid. I’m gonna get you something, and it’s gonna be great.” 

“Oh yeah?” He says, his eyes travelling to her neck. Thinking about how the necklace in the box will look. He had spent a lot of money and got some funny looks while buying it. So he hopes she’ll love it. 

“Yeah. I know what I'm gonna buy.” She says. He’s so observant that he doesn’t miss the way her eyes move to his hands. New rings perhaps? He’d actually love that. He’d been wearing these for a while. “And i’m gonna come see you on christmas day, you and Wayne.” 

“You don’t need to do that.” He says, wrapping an arm around her as they walk. Christmas had never been a big deal to him, he’d never really done the family christmas thing. 

“Of course I do.” She smiles.

“Yeah, you're right.” He says, “When else would I give you your amazing present?” 

“You could give it to me now?” She smirks. “Or I could just search for it.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” He gasps. “You love surprises.” 

Another thing that was so different about them, but worked so well. He hated surprises, but this one he couldn’t wait for. He knows how well she knows him, and he’s honestly excited to see what she buys. A year ago, he might have been upset. He always thought he didn’t deserve gifts, he didn’t deserve someone knowing her as well as she did. But she had made that all go away. For once, he was excited about the holidays, excited about Christmas day. One thing he was also excited for was the future. He couldn’t wait to be surprised by her forever. He couldn’t wait to love her forever, he couldn’t wait to be loved - forever. 

[stardust-sunset]

I’ve come to offer my own rebuttal against Lame Nerd Buzzkill Virgin Kyle. I raise you…Chad Kyle and My Headcanons. This is Long, delete it if you want✌️

I’ve had a lot of guy friends throughout grade school and college. I’ve known guys like Kyle. Y’know, that dude that is indeed very smart and introspective but also insanely opinionated and always offering his moral input on every situation? They love to argue and can get reallll hot headed about it? Yeah I know those guys. Was very close with a few of them. And not once ever were they timid little nerds that were too uptight to indulge in teenage recklessness. Nah, these guys were on a sports team or other high rank extracurricular, and they knew how to party. I’m not saying Kyle would be like a sigma male frat bro or anything, but I do think he’s just a Normal Guy and would do the things we (me) all did in high school. He would go to parties, maybe get too drunk a couple of times after getting way too competitive in a drinking game against Cartman. He’d probably try weed, maybe smoke some credigree with Stan as an act of rebellion against Randy. I could see him and the guys getting into some trouble with Barbrady every now and then. He’d try to be the voice of reason but c’mon, he’d still be apart of Cartman’s schemes somehow. He’d be allowed to have a late curfew because his parents trust him to not do anything too stupid, he gets good grades and is probably on a varsity team so why shouldn’t they? He would not have some weird celibacy complex and would probably have a few girlfriends during high school. He would NOT do things like drive under the influence, pills and any of that shit, but he also wouldn’t be some lame fuckin stick in the mud. He would probably have a little bit of a superiority complex about certain things, because he’s Kyle. But really, he would just be a normal ass teenage boy living in a wacky small town.

I want Guys Being Dudes. In a tiny mountain town in the middle of nowhere. What else is there to do other than these classic teenage shenanigans? Like you, I cannot get behind Nerd Ass Kyle that can’t be fun like his friends because he has to STUDY!! Or his Devil Mom will disown him!! LET HIM BE FUN!! It’s just so lazy and feels forced. Forced into a boring little cliché box that does not at all feel like an accurate representation of boyhood.

That is all thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

THIS

Preach anon. Also drinking games are defo something he would do.

Anyway yall should listen to anon here.

[wyvin666]

Tattoo Trouble

Eddie Munson X reader (they/them)

Request: Can you write one where Eddie has a crush on his tattoo artist and gets tattoos in the most painful spots to impress them, but this time he smoked before he got it and is getting a tattoo on his neck, and instantly regrets everything

a/n: defo not my best work but as a tattoo enthusiast this req goes hard. I might make a part two at some point but i just needed to finish something so my executive disfunction stops being a bitch

2.9k words

Eddie had a bit of a problem. When he had initially started getting tattoos at the only shop in Hawkins it was no big deal.  The artist was this older dude named Chris who was sweet if a bit gruff, the problem was his apprentice. About a year and a half ago Chris had taken on an apprentice and immediately Eddie was smitten. He had been a test canvas for them multiple times and now that they were fully trained he almost exclusively worked with them. 

For all his bravado Eddie was never very good at flirting when he actually cared.  He had started getting tattoos in more and more painful spots in an attempt to impress them, it was a solid step one he had reasoned, never mind that it had been almost a year and while he had become friends with the young tattoo artist he was no closer to making a move. Currently he was getting ready for yet another tattoo appointment.  For being as broke, it was kinda impressive he kept pulling together the money for new ink.  He was supposed to be getting a spiderweb tattooed across the front of his throat.  He and y/n had been hanging out about a month ago when he had said he was thinking of getting a neck piece. They had immediately began talking excitedly about this spiderweb design they had been toying with and how could he not get it. 

Eddie scrunched up his face in the mirror as he tried to fix his hair.  He thought back to his last appointment, when he’d gotten his chest piece done.  The way they had leaned over his chest as they worked on the final white highlights. He remembered swearing but remaining still as they had gone over a spot on his collar bone, the smile that had curled on they’re face as they told him he was being so good for them, if he didn’t have a praise kink before he certainly had one now.  His eyes flicked over to his nightstand where his joint case sat. surely it wouldn’t hurt to smoke a little, in fact maybe it would help him get the confidence to flirt, he had the time before his appointment. Grabbing the case and making sure his lighter was in his pocket he headed over to a little clearing in the woods behind the trailer park for a quick sesh.  

By the time he had biked over to the tattoo parlor he was definitely nicely high, he wasn’t absolutely zooted or anything but he definitely had a bit of warm fuzziness in his head and his eyes felt just a little heavy. Walking in he made small talk with Chris as he filled out his paperwork and then headed back to y/n’s room.  He had always liked the way Neurotic Needles was laid out so that each of the 3 artists and the piercer had their own little rooms, even with the windows in the wall it gave just a bit of privacy that was always nice.  

“Eds!!!” y/n stopped cleaning and ran over to give him a hug, “Sorry i’m running a bit behind today have a seat in the corner chair, you know the one, and I’ll be ready in just a sec! How’ve you been?” Eddie flopped into the chair by the boor and watched as y/n finished spraying everything down with alcohol and began cling wrapping the tattoo chair. 

“Good, good. I finished the campaign last week with hellfire and everyones pretty excited for the next arch but we decided to take a week off, some of the kids are going to visit a friend in california and I figured it would be best to do a session zero when everyone was here”  Y/n looked up from filling the squirt bottle of green soap

“I thought you were gonna keep the same party”

“We are but uh, we had a few casualties so quite a few of them are rolling up new characters.”

“Lolth too strong for them?”

“Nah I balanced the encounter right, I wanted to get some new PCs, things were getting a bit stale” that made them laugh as they pulled off their gloves, he felt like he was flying.

“Cold”

“Ice” he smiled.

“Alright!” They pulled on a new set of gloves and motioned him over. “Let's get you stenciled!” They shot some green soap onto a paper towel and disinfected the area. “Ok… you look nicely shaved so I wont go over that again… thanks for making my job easier!” they winked.

“But of course, only the best for you.” he watched them stifle a smile as they rolled over to their bench to grab the stencil and balm. Scooping out a small amount of stencil solution with a tongue depressor they smoothed it over the area.

“Now tilt your head back… Perfect! Now keep still for me.”

“You got it.” a moment of silence as they held the stencil over his neck adjusting ever so slightly and then the lightest touch on his throat followed by a soft smoothing and the crinkle of paper.  He felt them gently tap around the stencil making sure it was flush and then slowly peeled away the paper. 

“Ok,” they held up a mirror, “whaddaya think?” Eddie admired the indigo web in the mirror for a second, it was perfectly centered and had a tiny strand going down in the middle with a spider dangling on the end.

“Another perfect design”

“Shut up”

“I mean it, save some talent for the rest of us, damm.” Y/n was definitely flustered, the weed was definitely a good idea. Normally, them being flustered would make him flustered and he would freeze up but now all he could think was how nice they looked, he would say just about anything to keep the flushed look on their face. “Seriously! Talented, gorgeous, and sweet? You've got it all sweetheart.”

“Flattery won't knock your price Munson.” he couldn't help the dopey grin that spread on his face.

“Just tellin you the truth.”

“Ok pretty boy you ready to start.” he nodded and watched as they adjusted the power on their machine until it was the speed they wanted. “Let me know if you need a break at any point or if you wanna finish another day.”

“I’ll be fine, you know I sit well.”

“Yeah yeah yeah tell me again after we start.” 

As soon as the needles touched his skin he knew he had fucked up. Tattoos always hurt, a slight burning sensation and an ache bit with his heightened senses it felt like a hot poker was being shoved into his throat. He tried desperately to keep his composure but couldn't hold back a whimper or pain. Y/n, focused on pulling the line, didn't look up but he almost wished they had because maybe they would have stopped. It felt like years as they traced the line down the center or his throat and onto his chest and as soon as they pulled back the machine from his skin he was trying desperately to breath before they went back in. As they outlined the spider on his clavicle every line felt like it was burning into his actual bones. He was desperately trying to blink back tears when they finally pulled the machine away again, wiping off the area they had just gone over, not dry thank goodness.  The third time y/n went in he couldn’t help but let out a very choked fuck and they looked up and immediately looked concerned.

“Edds are you ok?” he tried his best to smile reassuringly but it must not have been convincing because y/n looked even more concerned. “I’ve been tattooing you for over a year now and I've never seen you react like this, what's up?” Eddie considered lying but between being stoned, being in pain, and being in the presence of the person he had a massive crush on made that seem like maybe not the best course of action. 

“I may have maybe smoked a joint before coming and maybe it upped my pain perception and I might be regretting all of my choices right now.” y/n sighed and pulled off their gloves.

“You beautiful idiot.”  They grabbed more green soap and began cleaning up the single line and spider outline he’d managed to stomach. “Lucky you, you were my only client today so we're gonna clean up, go get some lunch, and talk schedules and I'll finish you up later.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I'm not dealing with your squirmy high ass while I try to pull a bunch of straight lines on incredibly malleable skin.” He would have been more hurt if there wasn’t such a smile behind those words.  It also probably helped that all his stoned brain could think about was how pretty y/n’s hair was falling and that he was about to get lunch with them. Which is like almost a date. If you squint. And ignore that they went to get lunch together all the time. 

“Thanks y/n you're a god.” They walked over with a freshly cut piece of saniderm, tilted his head up and coveted the fresh ink.

“Oh I know, you absolutely owe me a joint though I’m not hanging out with you high while I'm sober, not this time anyway.” 

“Fair enough.”

“I rented Clue yesterday so we could just order dinner and watch that?” They motioned him out of the chair so they could pull off the cling film.

“Shit, I forgot that family video got that in.”

“I had Robin call me when they got it, perks of having friends that work there.” They crumpled up the ball of cling film and tossed it into the trash with the ink cap and machine grip and cover. “And my parents are out of town so we can smoke at my place. You have your j case on you?”

“Always.”

“Right then go wait outside and I’ll tell Chris I’m leaving.” They tossed Eddie their keys. “I assume you biked over?” He nodden. “You can go put your bike in my car then.”

As Eddie headed over to the car he had to restrain himself from jumping like an idiot. It's not like he had never been to y/n’s house before, in fact stoned movie nights were a staple of their friendship but as he was now realizing he had perhaps smoked more than he meant to and was definitely more intoxicated than he had intended on being but hey, more time with y/n was always a win. A few moments later y/n flopped in the car next to him.

“Keys?” he motioned to the cup holder. “Alright munson buckle up.” he rolled his eyes but obliged. “So… do we order pizza or do we stop at the diner and pick up burgers?”

“I’d vote pizza. If we get burgers the fries’ll be cold by the time we eat them and I'd rather die than eat cold fries.”

“Fair point, dramatic but fair, pizza it is then.”

“Yay!” 

Pulling up to y/n house Eddie hoped out of the car and ran around to open the door.

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

“Not as long as i'm around.”

“Oh fair sir Munson, thank you for saving me from the trouble of opening my door, my poor weak hands could never have done it without you!” 

“Shut up, I’m just trying to be nice.” y/n laughed as they walked ahead and opened the door.  

“Ok Munson lets go.”  Eddie couldn’t help but practically skip into the house.  This was gonna be a good night and who knows, maybe he’d even confess, only time would tell.

[peasthedumb]

I feel like on halloween nightmare wouldn’t dress up as anything, and if anyone asked he’d say he was dressed as a skeleton.

Meanwhile the murder time trio would all pretend to be classic and wreak havoc.

Dream would be the one person who always dresses as a black cat for halloween and very clearly missed the memo that he was meant to be scary.

Ink has two extremes, he either comes in a cheap onesie he brought or he comes in the most overworked hyper detailed DIY outfit ever.

Cross feels like the kinda guy who’d show up with some shitty face paint slapped on because he fully intends on getting unreasonably drunk and that’s the only fun he needs.

Blue defo shows up in battle armour and roleplays as a knight who needs to take down whatever ’beasts’ the others have showed up as.

Although I’m almost certain there’s been at least one halloween party where everyone agreed to dress in cow onesies and jumpscare cross.

Error is that one person who just shows up to the halloween party not dressed up as anything or even intending to take part. He just stands ominously in the corner with a wine glass and a cigarette (not smoking it tho, it’s just for effect). Either that or he walks around insulting peoples outfits.

He and nightmare would be the last people to get drunk, although for error it’s cause he drinks slow, meanwhile nightmare just has a high tolerance-

[dimpledcherry]

Eddie Munson VS Emotions - some headcanons

( he is very near and dear to my heart, he’s also a lot of fun to watch . )

ohmy- an eddie masterlist!!

Excited

so we all know he gitters when excited.. well he definitely has little moments of him running in a small circle when OVERLY jazzed about something

ohymgod homeboy so so so kicks his feet 

he will run out to Wayne and just *info dump*

10/10 a rambler on max speed

Wayne harass to tell him to breathe or slow down like 8 times

when he gets a new cassette -> this man will speed home, run straight in and to his room, THROW the preloaded cassette into the abyss, put on this new album, 100% volume or what's the point and just either: A) sit on his bed gushing B) running around the trailer singing, shouting, playing air guitar

Happy

nah bc when he’s happy.... EVERYONE knows about it

dude couldn’t hold that thing in for the life of him

defo has a light footed, bouncy happy walk

will dot about the kitchen giggling to himself -> depending on what's made him happy

he prefers his hair slightly out of his face when happy

his comfort / optimal happiness outfit is the hellfire shirt - ripped jeans - leather jacket denim vest combo - reeboks.

Sad / Empty

not a word is said 

he hides this one the best

minus he fiddles with the rings

he’ll throw himself in designing a new campaign or learning a song or driving 

ohmygod! Eddie... somber flat expression, going 100 on a freeway just blearing music to make himself feel something

sadness doesn't get to him a lot - he may not have the best life but he adores the one hes got.

when it does, it’s usually kinda surface level stuff that gets to him: seeing kids sitting eating lunch alone, his parents, the want to have a super successful band, a sad movie.

I think he’d be a “im not crying you are!”.... queue him sat silently sniffing, looking everywhere but the screen to dry his eyes, jaw LOCKED to hold a sob. 

Wayne could just offer the look and eddies bundled in his arms, mumbling and sobbing

boy totally gets embarrassed after crying

Anger

again, EVERYONE knows

mf cannot hide a knotted brow, crossed arms, a jumping knee.

one sightly wrong statement -> the Eddie glare ™ or a dramatically gestured snap

rolls his neck as a small release 

sometimes he will just up and leave

unlike the sad spells, Wayne is no magic comfort blanket with this one

Eddie hates his anger -> his Uncle is nEVER angry... not once for all the years they’ve lived together has he seen him mad. And because Eddie worships and idolised this man, he feels like if he gets mad hes gonna left Wayne down

the smoking increases significantly

will practically exist outside on the sofas bc no smoking in the rv before 9pm 

bro could be holding onto this anger for 3 days or 2 months...

he does use aggressive guitar solos as a healthy outlet

the dug usage goes up too

... a lot ....

Wayne notices and is silently aware of Eddie’s view on his anger so he offers small words of wisdom that the younger boy just scuffs off. 

Frustration 

gets frustrated so easily

cant work out a cord? cant figure out what way to sway the campaign? cant fix something in his van? Queue the ensemble of “JESUS CHRIST”s

SO DRAMATIC WITH IT TOO! 

he’ll get annoyed at himself for smashing a cup and Wayne will think he’s trying dewire a bomb when in reality he’s knocked a semi empty cup off the counter. 

will just blow air out his mouth to sooth himself throughout

king of short burst -> walks away -> will not let emanate object win 

TALKS TO HIMSELFFFF!!!!

any accent, any voice. 3rd person narration? yep! 

ohmygod when he gets his fringe cut and the short length vs the curls cause Wayne to deal with a week of Eddie’s insufferable complaining about why “buzzing my hair is a tempting idea” “cutting it myself next time” “It’s so shit!” “Why couldn’t I just enjoy the look of the normie?”

Nervousness

fiddles with things... ANYTHING

- rings - his watch - curling his hair round his finger - got a book infront of him? he’s rolling the pages

Mr Confident is actually 70% a show like a persona that started as a joke but is now the default coping mechanism 

will stand up in front of the school at lunch to declare a point nobody cares about but will not complain about an order being wrong or being charged too much 

drug deal goat but still gets nervous like its the first time

oddly very open about this emotion 

will randomly walk into the living room and ask Uncle Wayne if he has ever experienced a similar reaction to an event

EDDIE LIKING SOMEONE AND HE FEELS A LITTLE GOOIE ABOUT THEM AND ASKS WAYNE HOW HE PUSHED THROUGH THE FEELING

he also will just plop down at his chair at lunch, and declare some avonguard quote that is a metaphor for him feeling nervous

and yet - all the boys fully understand !!!!

[sunshineistyping]

What about h!animatronics with an s/o whom smokes weed? have they tried it?

Hmmmm

Music Man: Defo has and does smoke weed, he’s pretty cool with it and honestly will even smoke with his S/O

Sun: Has smoked before but doesn’t like it, he doesn’t mind if his S/O does it though!

Moon: high more often then he’d like to admit, totally cool with it! Will smoke with his S/O if they ask

Freddy: Has never tried it and doesn’t really want too, he’s supportive and believes as long as his S/O doesn’t do harmful drugs he shouldn’t care!

Chica: Weed brownies are her shit, she loooooves them. She doesn’t really like to smoke though, but obviously supports it!

Roxanne: Doesn’t like it very much but has smoked a few times before. She’s neutral and thinks it’s whatever. She won’t smoke with her S/O though

Monty: Are you KIDDING? This man owns all kinds of bongs, and can roll joints beautifully too. He’s hot as FUCK when he takes a hit, I don’t make the rules. This man is down for anything including letting his S/O smoke with him!

Slightly nsfw:

Monty will definitely fuck his S/O while they’re both high as long as there was consent before hand ✨

——————————————-

[chanluster]

stray kids — friends with benefits

requested : no, i was just horny

words : 1.09k words

genre : smut, fluff, very mild angst

a / n : hello i was procrastinating with paris i’m so sorry jekskdk but i hope you do like and reblog if you enjoy this !!

CHAN —

y’all were literally soulmates anyway so it was bound to get mentioned at some point

you would most prolly have to suggest the arrangement to him cause although he would love to ask you he would NEVER!!! EVER!!!! be the first one to say sumn

would do literally anything you want — deadass his wish is to see you pleasured first before himself

his cock would scare the shit outta you at first but after,,, it’s an ADDICTION

god of taking nudes but you gotta tell him to stop filtering them black and white for the “aesthetic”

this man KNOWS how to take care of you after sex — emotional KING

y’all would SAIL with this arrangement — eventually will date, have like three children in the future and then chan would admit how he was in love w you since the womb

MINHO —

he was the one that asks you cause wtf a man is horny and he’s horny for you

y’all go intense as fuck — within minutes this man got his thick ass cock buried in you without a SWEAT

this guy is crazy he would go on for HOURS — guaranteed crutches for the next day

degrading !!! king!!! makes you feel so good feeling like a ragdoll!!!

sometimes his cats would interrupt y’all fucking and suddenly you do not exist you are a mere tea towel in the presence of his pets

will not catch feelings but would care for you — if you do find someone for yourself would be protective of you but would support you dating

you will always run back to him if your love life goes to shit — the boy welcomes you with open arms and open legs

CHANGBIN —

gets so EXCITED when you mention this arrangement — you both are on the same wavelength and wanna fuck around a little

bitch he’s so needy you need to ride his dick half the time

his tongue though,,,,,a whole health hazard cause it makes your pussy a MESS

gets flustered as fuck when you smack his ass though for the lols

omfg his biggest kink is recording your moans so if y’all are alone in he recording studio,,,,,, you’re in for a treat

is sad as fuck when you end it but would still wish well for your relationship

still gifts you the studio version of your moans cause he’s a cocky shit

HYUNJIN —

could not believe his ears when you suggested it — thought the concept wasn’t even real

“benefits? oh my god, am i gonna get paid for being your friend? sweet, we should do this more often!”

a dumb motherfucker but at least he fucks you good

is super emotional so always begs you to stay the nights with him

praise king — literally whispering the sweetest shit to you while he slams his cock in you

aftercare is just you telling him to stop crying cause he slips out the L word

eventually asks you out on a date which ends up really nice so you decide to stay with this fucking loser

JISUNG —

is your weed buddy so you thought he smoked too much when he suggested it to you

you still agree though cause he’s hot as fuck

groans really loud when you’re sucking his dick which increased your self esteem until you realised he’s still zooted on his fourth joint

for a mans with a tiny ass body he sure knows how to snap your back

sex is so chill y’all literally fuck then talk about the inevitability of death straight after

his nudes are really shit cause he fucked his camera so usually it’s you sending pics — reactions are worth it though

no hurt feelings over the termination as long as you’re still his weed buddy which you still are

FELIX —

this goon literally faints when you ask him — deadass you had to hold him upright and reassure him he wasn’t being forced

couldn’t believe his luck cause he is literally in LOVE with you — has had a crush on you since childhood and just is ✨✨✨❤️✨✨❤️✨❤️❤️✨✨❤️✨

is so scared that he won’t satisfy you that he fucks up the first time

makes up for it with his dirty talk omfg!!!! the deep voice helps !!! so !!! fucking !!!! much!!!!

always is upon you after his dance practice even if he’s so tired because he just can’t wait to see you

after sex he’d bake brownies cause he knows how hungry you get

you will fall for him NO QUESTION

SEUNGMIN —

you don’t find it surprising at all when both of you talk about it with each other — both of you were single, bored as fuck and mega curious

this mf is all cute smiles but is WILD when y’all actually get down to it

ADORES quick fucks so half the time it’s literally just you bent over the kitchen counter

nudes are top-tier the angles, the quality, the CONTENT,,,, phew

bit of a romantic, so would defo sometimes create a nice mood before fucking you

you catch feelings for him but good thing he had a mask on for that shit !!

is actually really sad when you break things up with him cause he still enjoyed it but y’all remain good friends

JEONGIN —

you defo thought he took lines when he asked you

but because of his lack of experience he wanted to try things out with someone he trusts and so came to you

lemme tell you he is a fast :) learner :)

is sloppy but does not mean he’s bad — his lack of precision makes it even hotter in your opinion

his sadistic side low-key comes out and you’re just in pure horny shock — he gets shy for a second before he’s ordering you to shut the fuck up and you’re like : ok 👁💧👄💧👁

cannot for the life of him take nudes so you just make him come to yours and give you the real thing

becomes really dependant on you so thinks asking you to marry him is the only way you’d stay — you reject the proposal but go on a date instead which ends with y’all fucking as a couple ✨

back to masterlist

[an-aura-about-you]

September 8th, 1997

Crossing the Bridge

Somewhere Else Under the King

In this entry, Trilby Is Definitely Not Involved In A Robbery, demonstrates the use of his grolly, and gets drafted into cooking dinner:

It all comes back to him in easy calculation and muscle memory.

Trilby can see the point of entry. He can feel the comforting weight of his grolly in gloved hands. He hears the satisfying whiz of the grolly’s line shooting up, the hook secure. The climb up the side of the building. The muffled shatter of the window chosen for the job. The pull up into the ventilation system to find the unseen paths. The infiltration into the compound is complete. Now it’s time for the second part of the game.

Snip the right wire, the security system goes offline. Drop down. Take the lockpick tucked away into the tie. Click, click, click, the case is open. Apron, mask, machete. He can feel the fabric of the mask on a wide smile. The final touch, Trilby’s calling card set in the otherwise empty display.

Up and out. Alarms back online. The glimpse of a figure in a suit and hat before a smoke bomb hides the rest of the retreat.

John DeFoe’s artefacts have been stolen from the Order of the Blessed Agonies.

-

“I’m out,” Trilby says, holding up his empty hands.

Jon lets his cards drop from his hand. “You were right: this was less infuriating with the pain meds.”

Trilby picks up the cards and shuffles. “Maybe we should wait until you start your new job. That’s this week, right?”

“Technically, I had my first day today,” Jon answers. “Though it was more of a half-day. Speaking of work, Martin mentioned you recently went on a business trip?”

“Yeah, can’t seem to get away from them,” Trilby says. “This one was more of a teamwork building exercise with some coworkers.”

Jon laughs and says, “We couldn’t get away from HR in that line of work, either.”

“Talk about keeping up appearances.” Trilby sets the cards down for Jon to cut. “When does a situation like that get to the point of needing HR?” He pauses a moment when he takes the cards back and asks, “You don’t think the Order of the Blessed Agonies has HR, do you?”

“From everything Martin and I understand about them, sounds like that would defeat their purpose.”

“Speaking of Martin, when does he get off work? I wanted to borrow the book Lovelace loaned him,” Trilby says as he rests his hand on his stack of cards.

“It varies,” Jon answers. “But I told him I’d be at yours today. We can see if he’s home after this hand?”

Trilby nods in agreement. “Ready?”

But before they could start, there’s a knock at the door.

“Did Martin say he’d come by here?” Trilby asks as he gets up and goes to answer.

“I don’t think so,” Jon answers, turning in his chair to watch.

Trilby opens the door to find two police constables. His voice is even and firm as he asks, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” the bigger of the two answers. “Got a call about a robbery at a compound owned by the Friends of Jack Frehorn. An eyewitness said the culprit was wearing a three-piece suit, a mask-” The constable takes their baton and uses it to tilt the brim of Trilby’s hat. “-and a trilby. Not to mention a familiar calling card was found at the scene. Wanted to check up on you.”

“I see,” Trilby says. He then tilts his head towards Jon. “And as you can see, I have a guest right now.”

“Right,” the other constable says, following Trilby’s gesture and making eye contact with Jon. “How long have you been here?”

“Since about 12:15,” Jon answers, standing up. “Trilby’s been here as long as I have.”

The two constables pause, working out the timeline in their heads. Judging by their frowns, it’s not adding up the way they want.

“Do you have your grolly with you?” the first constable asks.

“Yes,” Trilby answers, picking his umbrella up from its spot by the door.

“I want to see you use it,” the second constable commands. “I want proof that it’s not just an umbrella while you’ve lent the real thing to an accomplice.”

“An accomplice? Really?” Trilby asks, setting his umbrella on his shoulders. “Even if I thought going back to that kind of work was viable, what makes you think I’d take on an accomplice now when I’ve always worked alone?”

“Still want to see it,” the constable insists.

“Fine, but not inside. I don’t want to break anything.” He looks over his shoulder to Jon and asks, “Care to join us for the demonstration?”

“What exactly will I be seeing?” Jon asks, though he approaches to join the others at the door.

Trilby gives him a half-smirk and goes, “What’s the fun in telling when you’re about to see anyway?”

Jon makes a small huff but follows anyway.

The four make their way outside the building, and Trilby inspects a nearby tree that doesn’t seem to have any animals in it. He nods in satisfaction, steps back, and aims his umbrella towards the branches.

“The grappling brolly,” he says before pulling a trigger near the crook.

The end of the umbrella splits into four prongs and shoots up into the tree, rope trailing behind and wrapping around a branch. He checks that the hook isn’t caught then pulls the trigger again, retracting the rope.

“Satisfied that it’s the real thing?” Trilby asks the constables.

The two constables grumble in response before a call comes in on their radio. One of them picks up to answer with, “Yeah, we’ve actually got Trilby right now, but we’re still working on what happened.”

“What are you talking about?” the voice on the radio asks. “Trilby was just spotted entering a government office with the stolen goods!”

Trilby rests his grolly on his shoulders again. “Considering I’m still right here, it sounds like you’re dealing with a copycat burglar. Why don’t you go see what that’s about?”

The two constables glower at Trilby, the bigger one mutters, “Smartass…” and they end up returning to their car.

Once they’re gone, Jon asks, “What the hell was all that?!”

Trilby sighs, and it’s here Jon notices his breath has gone shaky. “A pain in the ass, that’s what.”

Jon decides not to press that part of it. Instead, he goes, “So. Cat burglar.”

Trilby smiles. “I usually preferred to think of myself as a gentleman thief. But when you see an opening.”

Jon huffs a small laugh. “Thought you didn’t like puns.”

“Everyone’s immune to their own,” Trilby says. He turns to enter the building again and goes, “So, what do you think Jim will write up for this one?”

Jon laughs louder this time as he moves to follow. “God, I have no idea. Secret twin? Doppelgänger? Mad scientist cloning plot?”

Trilby takes his turn to laugh. “Considering the story he wrote up for Martin, that sounds about right.”

Jon takes the lead and asks, “Should we go see if Martin’s home?”

Trilby nods and goes, “In a moment. I’ll put the grolly away. Won’t need any of its functions at your flat.”

Jon stops in his tracks a second before picking back up and going, “Wait, functions? Plural?”

“I mean, I didn’t want to demonstrate the taser in front of the cops if they weren’t going to ask about it,” Trilby says. “And I trust you already know what a working umbrella looks like.”

“It’s actually an umbrella, too?” Jon asks over his mind tucking the taser information in with the times he’s seen Trilby carry the grolly to work rain or shine.

“Yes. Wouldn’t it be more ridiculous at this point if it wasn’t?”

-

Martin gets two cups out as soon as he hears Jon at the door. What perfect timing, as the kettle’s about to whistle.

“Welcome home, love,” he calls when he hears the door open.

“Hello, love,” Jon calls back from the door. “I’ve brought Trilby.”

“Hello, Martin,” Trilby calls, his voice moving towards the sofa.

Martin automatically gets another cup and waits for Jon to join him in the kitchen. He instinctively leans down to meet Jon, who leans up for a quick greeting kiss.

“Is Trilby here on business?” Martin quietly asks.

“No,” Jon whispers back. “I mean, he’d like to borrow the book from Jackson, but that’s not it. The police were just at his flat.”

Martin frowns. “Are you two all right?” he asks, still whispering.

Jon shrugs and goes, “Mostly? It’s not the worst I’ve seen Trilby. They didn’t seem to care about me, so there’s that.”

Martin fully turns to face Jon and opens his arms to him. Jon immediately accepts the offered embrace, and Martin pulls him close. He feels Jon shiver, and he rubs his back a little with a soothing, “Hey, it’s all right. That’s over now.” He gives Jon a kiss on the top of his head. “Why don’t you go sit? I’ll bring your tea in a moment.”

“I can get the book,” Jon tells him.

“Do you want to think about that now?” Martin asks.

“No, but actually fetching the book is something to do.”

Martin nods at this as Jon pulls out of the hug. “It’s in the bedroom,” he says.

They haven’t got much yet, but Jon still takes his time looking for it. The tea is done, and Martin brings a cup to Trilby.

Trilby starts at Martin setting the cup down before going, “Sorry.”

Martin says, “Nah, I’m sorry for startling you. Um, didn’t know how you take your tea, so I left some space for you to fix it up in the kitchen if you’d like.”

“You didn’t have to,” Trilby says. “Make me tea, I mean.”

Martin quietly huffs. Like Trilby’s not sitting on the sofa after Jon let him in. He then goes, “Yeah. I did.”

“Oh.” Trilby picks up the cup. And then, as an afterthought, “Thank you.” He takes a sip, opens his mouth to say something, then stops and takes another sip. He hums and goes, “Been a while since I had some good tea.”

Martin gives him a wry smile. “How’d that happen?”

“Been busy,” Trilby answers.

Martin returns to the kitchen and retrieves his and Jon’s tea. “That sounds familiar.”

Trilby frowns and furrows his brows just as Jon comes back with the book.

“Ah, I haven’t actually checked if I could loan that out,” Martin says as he hands Jon his cup. “Do you want me to call my boss about it now? Or just ask forgiveness later?”

“He’s already loaned me one book,” Trilby says. “I don’t see why he’d object to me borrowing this one, especially if he expects me to understand any of it. Unless you two would like to help fill in some gaps?”

“You can take the book,” Martin says. “Really rather not talk too much about it, if it’s alright with you.”

“Can’t blame you on that. I wouldn’t either, only...” Trilby trails off.

“Work?” Jon finishes, holding the book out to him.

Trilby takes it and says, “Work.”

There’s an ache in the silence that follows, an unusual empathy. It’s too still, too confining, and too much like being back in the archives. And Martin is sick of it, not just for Jon and himself but now Trilby, too. Maybe he hadn’t seen it on Trilby before, couldn’t see it because technically every time they met before this was in the context of Trilby’s job, but he can feel that inability to get away from his work now.

Martin cuts through the silence with, “So, what are we making for dinner?”

Jon asks, “Dinner?” at the same time Trilby asks, “We’re all making it?”

“It’s a good time to start thinking about it if we’re cooking,” Martin tells them. “Pretty sure I saw some vegetables in the fridge. Soup agreeable to everyone?”

Jon brightens up just a bit and goes, “Ah, yes. I get it.” Then he turns directly to Trilby and goes, “Come on, we’re being drafted.”

“Drafted? Into cooking?” Trilby asks.

“Was there something else you wanted to do?” Jon asks in return as he goes to join Martin in the kitchen. “I won’t really object if you just want to crash on the sofa, but are you going to end up reading Jackson’s book now if you do?”

Trilby takes his point and gets up. “Okay, what am I doing, then?”

“Looks like it’ll mostly be chopping vegetables,” Martin says as he pulls ingredients out of the fridge. He looks to Jon with a small, knowing smile and asks, “Hey Jon, do you think you could make that same pan fried bread that you did when we were staying at Daisy’s?”

“Ha!” Jon claps a hand over his mouth and bends over a moment. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Martin smiles a bit wider, both at Jon’s reaction and how it flies over Trilby’s head. And as the three work and get into a rhythm, he lets himself remember the peace of the safehouse. How Jon had made that bread the morning he told Martin he loved him. How this feels so permanent in comparison, different layers of permanent. And how the permanence that was once frightening right now feels freeing, even exciting, because this could be their lives now. The two of them together, a friend over- Is Trilby a friend? Maybe a sort-of friend, but it’s a start.- a friend over to help them make dinner.

[mimizepp]

may i request poly bruabba relationship hcs if you’re okay writing that ? 😛

i can never get enough bruabba goddamn i love them so much.. fluff + nsfw hcs and i added some scenarios for how the relationship came to be just for some fic practice i guess? enjoy !!! (also sorry my nsfw headcanons are never great but i tried)

poly bruabba relationship hcs

- bruno and abbacchio always saw their soon to be s/o in libeccio, alone most days but sometimes joined by a friend or two. they sat at a table relatively close to + facing the entrance, visible to anybody walking in 

- half due to suspicion, abbacchio always made unbreaking eye contact with s/o. it wasn’t anything threatening but he surely didn’t make himself appear too friendly. the way s/o never failed maintain this mutual gaze intrigued abbacchio, enough to tell bruno about this strangely sexy person of interest

- bruno was equally compelled to s/o, and even started to subtly express his interest once he and abba discussed the possibility of a polyamorous relationship

- bruno would slow down as he passed by s/o, just barely dragging a long finger along the table as he gave a soft, bidding smile. abba would follow behind, a mellower expression than usual, which s/o returned

- little bouts of small talk sprouted from this, s/o charming the hell out of bruno and abbacchio. s/o would occasionally join abbacchio outside for a quiet smoke, which he thought to be quite endearing

- for a while s/o never joined bruno nor abbacchio for a proper meal, as they were always with their associates or whatnot. it was a tad disappointing and s/o almost felt as if this friendliness between the three would never become anything more, but one morning bruno and abbacchio walked in libeccio, abba going the usual way and bruno approaching s/o

- ‘cara/caro, would you care to join us somewhere more private?’

- after melting under that sweet, familiar voice of reason, s/o gladly followed. in the private area sat abbacchio at a table in the corner, bruno escorting s/o to a seat beside him. abbacchio smirked and poured s/o a cup of (NON PISS) tea before questioning them about loads of things

- before s/o knew it, they were in a poly relationship with two of the sexiest gang members in italy

fluff

- abbacchio softens up a bunch and always has this understated, loving expression when with bruno and s/o

- bruno becomes even more of a mommy and loooves babying s/o and abba on their days off

- YES THIS MEANS HE LETS THEM SIT AROUND AS HE DOES EVERYTHING FOR THEM IT’S HIS PRIMARY LOVE LANGUAGE AND ITS SO SWEET

- if he’s been overworked due to passione business, s/o and abba like to take care of him for the day so he can unwind 

- bruno and abba feel really bad that they have to leave s/o for work so often so they’re always calling to check in + love bringing little gifts home for their s/o

- if bruno and abba come home exhausted / beat from work they’ll cuddle up with s/o and form a little bruabba nap sandwich for a little while

- if s/o’s back is ever turned, either bruno or abba will be going in for a soft little embrace just for a few moments (or longer if they feel like chatting and swaying for a bit)

- bruno and abba love bringing s/o to libeccio, whether it’s to accompany them in meetings with the bucci boys or just for a comfortable meal together (it also just reminds them of how this beautiful little relationship came to be)

- btw the bucci boys really like s/o + love how abbacchio softens up when s/o is present (saves giorno from constant berating and glares)

- little comforting things with hands are all the pda abba is able to tolerate (there will be arms wrapped around waists, hands resting on lower backs, and hands held AT ALL TIMES)

- s/o and bruno love teasing abba and like to kiss one another in public, just to see if he will want to get a peck of his own (leone usually doesn’t induldge himself when they’re out but will defo be glaring with an eyebrow raised until s/o and bruno stop)

- one time s/o just went for it and placed a little kiss on abbacchio’s cheek + bruno took a photo just as abba’s face was its deepest shade of red

- if any single one of the lot is sleepy, all three are required to cuddle up and get cozy (it’s an unspoken poly bruabba rule)

- the same goes for little kisses at home. if abba gets three, then bruno gets three... etc.

- s/o and bruno often wake before abba and love surprising him with breakfast in bed :,)

- just once did abba wake up super early and try to surprise his babies with a meal... he burnt everything and was later found on the kitchen floor sipping a glass of wine and eating a blackened piece of toast

- abbacchio likes doing his hair and makeup in the quiet company of s/o + bruno (who will be doing whatever necessary to make sure his braid + bob are up to par)

- abbacchio sometimes gets really indecisive and asks s/o and bruno if he should try out his black or green lipstick, but he always ends up going with his safe choice despite anything said (light purple)

- on lazy days at home abba ties his hair back loosely and wears a large tshirt with boxer briefs and some comfy ass slippers + bruno has his hair styled very slightly and wears a cute little sweater with comfy pj pants. s/o wears one of abba’s large tshirts with just undies underneath as well as some fuzzy socks

- bruno is often dreaming of having children with s/o and abba + really wants to have a nice little house to raise them in the countryside someday

- dates are usually planned by bruno, who loves having s/o and abba in cute family-owned restaurants or niche little locations that he knows his babies would adore

- abbacchio has planned several wine tasting dates along with a few afternoon picnics. he always takes s/o and bruno to this quiet, secluded park that has the loveliest view

- sometimes abba and s/o tirelessly try to come up with ways to surprise bruno + thank him for all his hard work as a milf, and they normally end up trying to cook his favorite meal (bruno is so grateful for this even if it doesn’t taste the nicest.. he loves the sentiment though and his heart feels so FULL)

- bruno says ‘i love you’ not only through his words, but also with his touch. s/o can always tell when bruno is embracing them in a way that communicates such a feeling, whether it be a kiss on the forehead or the squeeze of a hand. he most often likes to stand behind s/o with his hands on their hips, so he can lean in to kiss their cheek and bring his arms around their waist and hug them as tight as possible

- abba says ‘i love you’ with his eyes and facial expressions. whenever doing daily / domestic tasks with s/o, abba holds the warmest, most adoring look on his face as he looks at his dearest. s/o always meets his eyes and blushes before reminding abba how much they love him, to which abba responds with a light ‘mm’ full of intimacy

nsfw

- as much as s/o abba and bruno hate to admit it... jealousy and lust are MAJOR players in the bedroom

- bruno gave s/o more attention than he gave abbacchio? abba’s making sure he gets his share of it and has the two follow his every demand + won’t let them finish until they’re begging for it with tears in their eyes

- so many hickies / love bites EVERYWHERE

- also loads of purple kisses will be all over s/o and bruno’s chests

- abbacchio loooves having s/o take him from behind as bruno plays with himself (and vice-versa)

- ‘bruno can’t wait for his turn to get inside you... i know you’d love that, you fucking whore.’

- abbacchio likes being pegged by bruno while giving s/o oral more than he’d like to admit + still won’t let s/o or bruno finish until he wants them to

- whenever pegged by bruno or s/o he usually gets super bratty and loves being punished with many slaps on the ass / accross his face

- shibari.

- abba will intricately tie s/o with their hands bound behind their back. he and bruno will have a liiittle too much fun teasing s/o until they’re nearly crying +  begging one of the two to fuck them senseless

- if bruno ever gets to take the lead he makes it much slower and intimate most times, focusing loads on foreplay

- he likes having s/o and abba wear blindfolds so they never know where his next touch will come from + is always down to tease with some nipple play

- looooves lightly tracing his fingers down s/o and abba’s torsos until he reaches their inner thighs and watching his babies shudder beneath him

- if s/o or abba ever whine during foreplay or lean into his touch, bruno will punish them by making the other cum first and then edging the impatient party until he’s satisfied

- ‘hm, it seems you’re coming close, amore mio.’ he will cease movement completely and smirk, ‘i’ll let you finish soon enough.’

- abbacchio likes cumming inside s/o or bruno, but doesn’t mind having to pull out and finish in their mouth or on their chest

- bruno loooves finishing all over s/o and abbacchio while they have their mouths wide open and waiting for him

- as for what happens after sexytime, abba is the first to get sleepy and ask s/o to cuddle + bruno goes and gets towels and some glasses of water for his two favorite people

- s/o bruno and abba will cuddle for a little while and make sure each of the three is satisfied and soothed + then they’ll all lovingly drift off to sleep at some point during the night

- they will all be showering together quite sensually in the morning with plenty of sudsy groping

[ira-vaisman]

“Are you all right? You got a little quiet, there?” “Fuck you. Go on and be more fun this time.”

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes?

“Ha! Bold of you to assume we have time for hobbies.”

As a child, he remembered it was reading. It was catching stray cats and putting bows on them. It was trying to climb roof tops and be the detective to his sister, the thief. As a child, he had many hobbies, as children should. 

What is your most treasured possession?

“Do I look sentimental to you?”

There’s three object Ira calls his own: 1) His pocket watch, worn whenever he puts on his suit, worn never when he puts on his livery. 2) A little lighter, which he nicked from a friend’s father once. 3) His hair ribbon and the little clips that keeps it secured. Are these treasured possessions for the sake of being treasures? Or are they treasured possessions for the sake of simply being possessions, his own, something that’s just his? He couldn’t tell you. 

What is your favorite color?

“Green.”

What is your favorite food?

“I like a good steak with chips?”

He used to answer more truthfully and name the dishes his mother made. But people never knew what it was, and always looked weirded out. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped answering truthfully. Perhaps one day the world would change enough for this to change again as well.

What, if anything, do you like to read?

“The news papers. Non fiction.” 

Recently he’d gotten into Defoe’s work. Not so much because he liked it, but because there was hardly an easier target to hate on.

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?

“Cheap wine, good friends, and whatever’s in front of you should be good enough or bad enough that it makes you all talk about it after.” 

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?

“Not really. Rarely.” 

How do you spend a typical Saturday night?

“Oh, honey, you know that better than I do. Next Saturday again? See you at 9? Your bed this time?” 

In his own bed. It was the night when the servants got off to go to church. So he spent it in his room, reading or napping, catching up on all he had missed over the week.

What makes you laugh?

“You ever seen a cat fart and then run away from the stink?” 

What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

“Shock and offended! What doesn’t! The sight of a lady’s ankle has me angry for days, the mere idea of blasphemy makes it hard for me to breathe and, oh, one time I nearly fainted when I saw a vicar at a red lantern place. Shocking! Offensive! How dare!”

A lack of morality was something that offended Ira, though. However, not society’s set of morals, but the morality he thought every person ought to give to themselves, and follow not for external reasons, but for a wish for integrity.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

“Got a bag of peas for that in my night’s drawer. It’s fun, look. You pick one, you aim, and you give it your best shop trying to sink one into Zahir’s wide-open, snoring mouth.” 

How do you deal with stress?

"I give our ladyship a good cuddle, bury my face in her bosom and give her buttocks a good wiggle. Usually helps wonders.”

Yikes.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

“Spontaneous. You gotta be, in a job like this. Shit always happens, and you always gotta be able to figure out what to do.”

What are your pet peeves?

“What aren’t? Being called ‘William’? Having my hair touched by someone who didn’t ask? Finding people being lazy when you’re working your ass off?” 

[writingjoycebyers]

Hi, would you please write an imagine of Joyce and El having a little fight . El is blaming herself for Hop's death and Joyce is trying to convince her it's not her fault but they end up kinda fighting. Also, could you please include this quote in your imagine "you're not my real mother!" . I'd like if it ends in a hug or something fluffy lol thank you

The fight - Joyce x El

"You don't like the soup?", Joyce asked with concern as she caught El staring at her plate instead of eating.

Will was shoveling bread into his mouth peacefully, nose stuck in a book right beside his plate. Another growth spurt had caught him lately, and he had grown much taller than Joyce and El now, equalled by him eating twice as much as the women in his household.

"She's angry at that boy from school.", he whispered as El didn't give an answer.

"But, baby, what boy?", Joyce inquired walking around the kitchen. She had seen it coming, sooner or later, new life, new school, new boy.

El gave her an angry stare.

"There's this popular boy at our school. He asked her out on a date. She said... yes. He then went to his friends to laugh about her, it was a bet who'd get the new girl out on a date first.

Joyce's face dropped. She didn't want El to get hurt by a guy, not ever - but she was a woman too, had been a girl and she knew she couldn't be fully protected from this. She thought of Lonnie for a second.

"El...", Joyce said softly as she approached the girl sitting at her kitchen table. Her brown hair ended around her shoulder and she was wearing a brand new sweater Joyce had gotten her for the start of the school year.

"No, Joyce. Leave me alone.", El snapped as Joyce's hand touched her shoulder. Joyce flinched at the sound of her name. El had just recently started calling her Mum. Will looked up from his book for the first time

"And I didn't know this was your story to tell.", she beamed at him with anger and then rushed off to her room. The door slammed shut - powerful, even without the use of powers.

"Should I...?", Will tried, but Joyce shook her head. "Nah, I'll go."

Joyce went back to the kitchen to grab her smokes and went outside. She slowly puffed away on a Camel, which always reminded her of Hop, and tried to give herself and El some time to calm down.

She went back inside, grabbed a pack of chocolates and started to enter the dangerous territory, knocking on the teenager's door, slowly entering it.

El was on the bed, face to the wall, quickly wiping away some tears as Joyce sat down at the foot end.

"It's okay to be sad.", she softly said, gently stroking El's leg next to her. "And upset. Boys can be pigs, you know."

"I know."

"What about Mike anyways? Why did you even want to go on that date?"

"Just because. This Tom guy.. He's... he looks good and he's cool. He's got a leather jacket and friends.", El explained. "And Max said that if Mike stands me up for our phone calls because he's out with Dustin and Lucas, then I should show him what he'd lose.", El added in a sound of clear rationality, as if she was reading a handbook to something aloud.

Joyce chuckled. She knew those feelings oh so well, she had been that girl and she knew it was dangerous... jealousy, coolness, those bad boys... but she understood it was tempting too. She didn't want to judge her.

"Oh, I know just how you feel. I've been like you once. Been 15 and had crushes.", she added, munching a chocolate and handing one to El.

"How would you know? You've only been with that Ronnie guy, at least that's what Hop said, and he said that guy was mean anyway."

Joyce looked shocked. She had never thought that Hop had told El anything about her former love life. She decided not to correct her or tell anything more about... Lonnie, for now. She had been older and much less innocent with everything that had happened with him. She'd have to find out what Hop had told her some other time.

"Yeah, but still I know how you feel. We're girls, connected, you know.", she just tried, pinching her leg slightly to make her laugh, or at least smile.

"You're not even my real mom, you wouldn't know my feelings.", El blurted out without thinking.

Joyce stopped all movements. Her pulse was racing out of a sudden and tears were welling up behind her eyes. She had tried so hard, so hard to be a mum for her, had tried to convey that everything, every feeling was real and honest and motherly. She had failed. Failed marriage, failed love, failed to save Hopper, failed to make El feel at home.

"I'm sorry.", Joyce said, voice husky as she tried to get up from the bed. El sat up too.

"If Hopper wasn't dead we wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be dumped by some... leather jacket wearing guy at school. And why is Hopper dead? Cause I'm some girl with powers who comes from a lab experimenting with the upside down, and that's how I have no mother, no father, and the only person that was kind of my dad got killed in... Because of me. If I were normal Hop would be alive... And you could be with him and not that... Could forget that Ronnie guy and I could be in Hawkins with... Mike.", El was yelling now, yelling and crying and not making any sense, but to her all seemed fully logical.

"But...", Joyce said in shock. "You've got a mother... if you want one... me.", she added, nearly shy even in front of a teenager. A teenager that meant the world to her.

"If you wouldn't have been that girl from the lab, than it would have been some other kid, you weren't involved in the situation. If it's anybody's fault.. then... not yours. Maybe mine, maybe the Russians. But not yours.", Joyce closed and left the room. She needed a moment, and a smoke.

Later that night, El's door was closed, music playing from her record player and Joyce decided not to press her with the subject any more. Tomorrow would be a new day, the world would look different and maybe El would see another boy, or call Mike and be a happy girl again. She hoped so. This was a simple problem compared to anything supernatural.

Joyce retreated to her room for the night, switched off the lights and tried to sleep. She lay in the dark for about half an hour and her mind wandered off to Hopper, to what could have been, them — together as a family of four?

Suddenly she heard a knock on her door, and she could hear someone open it softly.

"Will? What's wrong?", Joyce asked immediately.

"No, it's me.", El whispered.

"Oh. You okay?" Joyce asked the kid she'd like to call hers.

"Mum, I can't sleep.", she replied. Joyce smiled to herself. Mum. With those words she knew they were back to good, back to family mode, back to love.

"Com'ere.", Joyce patted the empty side of her bed and opened her arm for El to cuddle up to her in a hug. "Let's gossip about boys."

_____________

Thanks for the ask 😊

I'd defo like to write more mother daughter stuff for Joyce and El so yeah, feel free to ask!

[fantasy2739]

Hi there, mate! I have a request for you, if you're interested! So, Douxie was probably alive during the witch trials and hunts that ravaged the european countries during the 1600s. Could you maybe write a fic about how he coped with that? You're like, the best writer out here, by the way.

Oooo a very interesting thing to write about!! I sort of um tried?

Also thank you for saying that I’m the best writer. I’m defo not, there are plenty of other fantastic writers in the fandom. Seriously you all need to check them out, not just tumblr but AO3 as well.

I hope you enjoy!!:

Douxie panted heavily. Why had he stayed? After the plague. After the black cat hunting. After everything. Why was he still in Europe? He was lucky. As a man he managed to avoid most suspicion. Archie however, he was in a lot of danger. Yes he was actually a familiar but that didn’t mean he was a bad omen. Fortunately, pulling the royalty found black cats lucky seemed to work sometimes. Thank the heavens for King Charles. It didn’t mean that people didn’t notice odd things. Like Douxie not getting sick. Not ageing. Not changing. And if a witch-hunter came into town, well the finger was pointed to women or him. He was an obvious choice. Young but eyes older than the rest of him. Black cat. Could actually use magic. Douxie tried to breathe. He’d been caught out. Someone had noticed him doing something. He wasn’t sure what? Maybe the scams or the anti-ageing. Still being chased out of town was a bother. A nightmare actually.

He’d seen witch tests. Witch burnings. The drownings. Well at least you couldn’t hear them screaming. The gurgles were bad enough and if they somehow floated, usually due to something other than witchcraft then he got to witness a burning. Douxie could block out a lot of things. Could forgot things he didn’t want to remember. But the screaming of innocents. The screaming of kin as they were burned by flames. Wizards and witches could incant if they were focused. If they had the emotional control. Flames inching towards you violently, catching your feet. Searing your body inch by inch as the flames crept closer and closer. The horrible ragged breaths of smoke that crippled their lungs. Douxie could see it and hear it all. Seared into his mind like the horrible scalding flames that surrounded people he’d known.

So he’d run. At the first sign of trouble he’d flee. It didn’t mean he got away clean every time though. One particularly vicious witch-hunter had chased him across the continent. He still had the burn scar from when they nearly got him. If Archie hadn’t managed to snap him back to reality, he would have been burned alive. He would be dead. It was a horrible thought.

“I think it’s time to move on.” Archie said one night, while they were hiding in a cave. “Get off the continent.”

“And go where?” Douxie asked, stoking feeble flames.

“I’ve heard rumours that the Trolls are planning on jumping on the Mayflower.” Archie said, adjusting his glasses.

“The Mayflower?” Douxie asked. “What the heck is that?”

“It’s a ship. It’s travelling to the supposed ‘New World’ soon.” Archie told him. “We need to get out before someone cottons on to us.” Douxie thought about the burn on his lower back. The screaming and pain.

“They’ve already worked out who we are.” He said miserably. “Maybe leaving is for the best.” He didn’t want to leave Europe particularly. It was familiar and comfortable. The closest he’d come to Camelot, the closest he could come to Camelot. But at the rate he was going, people would work out who he was. He wasn’t just some fun rumour or hearsay. He was becoming known.

“So we’re going.” Archie said. Douxie nodded. They were leaving. Departing for the ‘New World’ with a bunch of Trolls.

Sometimes, when he was alone. Douxie could hear the screaming. Could remember the smell of burning flesh. He’d wake up in a cold sweat feeling the heat of flames and the horror of watching friends burn alive.

Sometimes he’d wake up burning and breathless and screaming.