#carlie writes things

[faithforgottens]

𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆.

from the writer’s desk: i’d tell you i started this a year ago after deciding i needed closure on post - crying on newport beach about how i’m incapable of being loved but that would mean me unloading all over the dash, and nobody needs that. i’m just a girl, out here projecting like tomorrow’s not coming, and thought i’d share. please know that i love carol, i just had to pick a character that i didn’t have strong emotional attachment to in order to play my villain. motivation to continue this would be much appreciated, thnx.  summary: you’ve been stuck in carol’s web for nearly four months now, and you need a distraction before you go postal and commit a capital crime or worse, tell her you love her. fortunately for you, natasha’s willing to offer her services. contains: college!natasha x female reader —— warnings include toxic relationship dynamics that involve infidelity, gaslighting and cheating, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, nsfw content [ fingering, dirty talk ]. →  inbox status: OPEN                                        don’t repost my works anywhere.

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     am i gonna see you tonight?

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     :(

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     hellllllooooooooooo??

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     I WANNA SEE U I MISS UR PRETTY FACE

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     pls come tonight. it would mean everything to me

You’ve never claimed to be smart.

In fact, you’re pretty sure you have to fall on the opposite end of that spectrum in order to bother showing your face tonight at the behest of Carol fuckin’ Danvers. Satan. It’s the work of the goddamn devil pulling you from the clutches of your apartment’s comfortable silence where you’d be much better off riding through the nuanced gut-punching waves of disappointing Carol guilt instead of the hell storm that is being played once again by Carol guilt. You even put on eyeliner for such an occasion, because if you’re going to get fucked over (either physically, emotionally, or both), you might as well look good doing it.

Her name’s still lighting up your phone as the Uber drops you off at the curb, boasting a flood of pictures on Snapchat that illuminate the awaiting scene inside of the frat house through blurry streaks of glass bottles and marijuana smoke and the pale expanse of her neck where a glint of her gold necklace flashes is promised to you to do as you wish, leaving behind bruises or lip prints. It’s an enticing picture painted for you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think maybe tonight will be the night she tells you she’s free from the clutches of Maria, her perfectly sane girlfriend that you’ve only ever known through Carol’s jilted lens, and that she’ll even let you climb her like a tree in front of her friends.

Lucky you.

Except you do know better. In the pit of your stomach, you know the reality is that you are in closer proximity than Maria, which therefore makes you the most convenient piece of ass at Carol’s disposal, that Carol believes — and is likely right about how — you’re still wound tight enough around her finger to make you drop to your knees like a good little girl, blinded by her golden halo of hair and the whiskey-soaked taste of her lips and ready to excuse her shit treatment of you. That even feeling like you have her for the beat of a butterfly’s wings is worth your sanity. And despite it all, it isn’t enough to keep you away. It’s not enough to exile the parts of a masochistic heart beating in your chest that somehow loves her, even if the only part of you she loves is your willingness to show up for her.

Carol’s fraternity is co-ed, which means that between all of the brothers, their social circle extends to the farthest corners of the university — they consume a fair bit of your own, considering you have at least two classes a semester with Bucky, sit with them at Wanda’s softball games (mostly so you can talk shit about your high school ex that made the team), and rent study rooms at least once a month with Thor, Bruce, and Val to spiral into late night insanity while you all contemplate the meaning of life and attempt to memorize vocabulary words. You slip in through the door, bass thudding into your molars and the heavy blanket of smoke and sweat covers your bare shoulders as you weave your way through the house.

“Look who finally showed up!” Behind the counter in the kitchen is Sam Wilson, running position as makeshift bartender. You detour long enough for a vodka and Diet Coke, stopping next to the barstool that Bucky’s perched on. He tucks you underneath his arm for a side hug, other hand tipping his own solo cup back as he tries to drain the last bit of liquor down his throat.

They’re good friends to you. It’s why you hate doing this dance with Satan — because at some point, you feel that there’s going to be a tectonic shift between the two of you that dredges up a rift in the concrete and you don’t know who will be left on your side. You don’t know who you’ll be able to look in the eye and lie to about Carol, who would pick you over her. You don’t even know if any of them would believe you or would write you off as crazy as you’ve been writing yourself off as of late.

You tell yourself that you’re trying, goddammit, to shove that piece of yourself back into a locked drawer and enjoy the company of your friends.

“Anybody seen Danvers?” you pitch as nonchalantly as you know how, planting your elbows down onto the granite of the counter while you watch Sam mix your drink. He goes heavy on the vodka, which you quietly appreciate.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, we’ve seen her alright.”

“She’s in the dining room trying to rally everyone into a round of strip beer pong,” Sam explains. “Last we saw, she got her shirt stuck in the chandelier.”

“The face of class, this fraternity,” you tease as Sam hands you your drink. He can’t help but laugh, a jovial, guttural noise that makes you smile, even though your stomach is currently in your throat.

You bid them farewell and snake through the living room, trying to avoid the furniture or the bodies of other people and almost always fail in avoiding both at the same time as you carve out a path to the dining room. It’s densely packed, which forebodes the game of beer pong that the boys mentioned. You try not to cut your elbows into the bones and flesh of others to make your way through, but your adrenaline is humming at the thought of seeing Carol, the thought of her body glowing in the house lights and the cut of her physique out on display for anyone, including you, to openly ogle without abandon.

“Goddamn, Danvers!” someone yells mirthfully. “Keep it in your pants!”

Whistling down to one thought, one track, your mind lasers in and you’re positive that the sharp point of your elbow nails T’Challa directly in the ribs as you finally make it to the inner lip of the circle around the dining room table. It’s desperate. You know it’s desperate. You'll care about it later, you’re sure, but for now, all that’s on your mind is her.

“For the love of fuck, I—” Someone stumbles back into you, dark hair in frizzy waves and the bill of their baseball cap nearly jabbing straight into your nose. Wanda Maximoff spins around, her eyes lightening up at the sight of you as she grabs onto your wrist to stable herself. “Oh! Hey, babe,” she says with a smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me either,” you tell her, trying not to be blatant as you scan for Carol. “Carol didn’t tell me until last minute.”

“Boo,” Wanda pouts, before turning to yell over her shoulder, “Danvers! Fuck you!”

“Get in line!” Carol calls back, and your head locks in on where her voice comes from. Your stomach plunges into free fall when you see her: as promised, she’s standing around in her sports bra and jeans, white teeth glinting and blonde hair curling around onto her tanned shoulders, biceps on display and her arms snaked around — her.

Maria Hill, in the flesh, pressed against Carol’s side and her chin balanced on Carol’s shoulder as Carol makes a shot one-handed that successfully lands in a cup on the opposite end of the table. Carol cheers victoriously, and Maria kisses her cheek, and you notice that Carol’s hand on Maria’s side drifts down towards her ass.

All of Carol’s messages swim inside your mind, the ones where she assures you that it’s all real, that she and Hill are done, that Hill’s holding her back, that she’s felt things for you since the moment she laid eyes on you and just knew; the ones where she paints a beautiful picture of a future with you, the same picture she’s just doused in cheap spirits and ruined for the dozenth time. Your drink suddenly tastes like arsenic, heavy and uneven in your stomach, the room shrinking and heat crawling up your neck in an uncomfortable panic. You are going to be sick.

Wanda’s voice comes through in the midst of the ringing in your ears. Fuck you, Danvers.

It takes you a moment to realize that Wanda’s voice isn’t just a reverberation inside your mind, but is right in your ear. “Hey!” She calls your name again, and you finally snap your attention back to her. She scans over your face for a moment, eyebrows folding in the center of her brow. “You alright? Where’d you just go?”

The shock is fresh on your face, salt water from the crashing wave that’s irritating your eyes — you refuse to let yourself cry, here in front of everyone, because all that’s going to do is open the door to a conversation you don’t want to have, incite a fight with Carol that you’ll surely lose, leave you feeling even lower than you do at the moment. You shake your head, trying to shake whatever emotions that aren’t nonchalant off of your face. “Noth—nowhere,” you stammer, voice an octave higher than usual. Wanda’s perplexity only deepens. “More crowded than I thought. Got beer-splashed.”

Wanda breaks into a smile, seemingly buying your excuse. “C’mon, what’d you expect?” she ribs. It’s a loaded question, and if Wanda wasn’t Wanda, you’re sure it’d be enough to light your rapidly shorting fuse. The thin strain in your falsified smile must give something away, because she softens the slightest bit and wraps her arm around yours. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll kick your ass sideways in pool.”

You appreciatively take Wanda’s out, allowing her to guide you away from the Carol show and the crowd of people you have steeled yourself in order to not cry in front of and head with her towards the basement, which the frat has renovated into a lounge space with a giant television, sectional that is infamous for its hosting of The Threesome, and the pool table. It hasn’t garnered quite the same audience that the beer pong game has, but less people means you feel slightly less suffocated. Carol’s still got her foot on your throat, but down here, it’s easier to maneuver and act as though you haven’t just had yourself made a fool in front of everyone without them knowing.

Relieved for the little things, like elbow room, you sit down on the arm of the sectional and take a long drink from your cup — if you’re going to survive the rest of the night without your tail tucking between your legs (and you’re determined to further your self-sabotage by going the extra mile to ensure Carol knows she fucked up, even though it’s likely she doesn’t care) you’ll have to be drunker than this. Wanda adjusts her hat on her head and picks up a pool cue, glancing back over her shoulder at you. “Want someone to show you how it’s done?” she teases.

You lift your cup in acknowledgment, smile shedding off of your lips. “Go for it.”

As Wanda weasels her way into the current game of pool, you do a quick intake of who all’s downstairs. There’s a few of the brothers, a few of the brother’s dates, people that are otherwise background characters designed to make campus seem at capacity but not so many people that no one would notice if you threw up in the corner or worse, started crying. You purse your lips around the rim of your solo cup, scanning the company around the pool table. Wanda sidles up next to another one of her brothers, poking her with the pool cue. “Nat!” Wanda whines. “Give me room.”

Natasha Romanoff shuffles out of the way with the roll of her eyes. “Poke me with the stick again and it’s gonna go somewhere less than ideal.”

Wanda flicks her middle finger upright before hunching around the shape of the pool cue. “You don’t scare me, Natty.”

“Your funeral.”

Your eyes follow Natasha out of the way, and she feels their weight because the next thing you know, you’re off the cliffs and deep somewhere inside the greenery of her eyes. They’re pretty eyes, you idly note, and you find yourself mulling over Natasha Romanoff, as a person, as a concept, as Natasha. She’s the oldest of the girls in the fraternity, a senior to your junior, and she’s been around for so long that it’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t there. It’s hard to imagine a room without her in it, a constant fixture on the mantel that you don’t even bother acknowledging it anymore.  

She cocks an eyebrow at you after what’s sure to be a long moment of staring, and Wanda, who is unfortunately more observant than you’d like to believe, begins laughing. “Am I interrupting this little staring contest?”

Natasha smirks. “I could win a staring contest and kick your ass at the same time, Maximoff.”

“Show off,” Wanda grumbles as she passes the pool cue over to Natasha. She then looks at you, and whatever grumpiness dissipates, her shit-eating grin returning. “Now, you on the other hand,” she preludes with a gesture towards you. “There’s no way.”

You drain the rest of your drink and discard the cup off to the side. "You talk a lot, Wan,” you inform her as you walk up to the side of the pool table. Wanda just grins as you turn to Natasha, gesturing for the pool cue. “Let me have a go.”

Natasha acquiesces and passes you the pool cue, giving you the space you need coupled with a low nod of encouragement. There are a few clusters of balls around the table and you’re trying to eye up a shot that’ll give you not only a handful of points, but will get Wanda off your back — even if you are grateful for the timing of her diversions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough; you can still hear the laughter and music through the walls from upstairs, a raucous noise that scatters your train of thought. Is it Carol? What’s she doing? What’s she whispering into Hill’s ear? Does she know you’re even here? Does she care? 

Probably not.

You take the shot without thinking, balls ricocheting off the sides of the pool table. Wanda barks out a laugh. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Just getting warmed up,” you say stiffly, handing the pool cue off.

Wanda’s face is alight with amusement, nodding slowly as she moves around the pool table for her next shot. “Okay.”

You’re too far in your head, and you know it. You’re content to linger on the outskirts of the game while everyone else that Wanda goes about recruiting takes their turn. It’s a few minutes or an hour before the cue ends up back in your hand, like a rickety sort of clockwork that is unexpected but also entirely predictable. You assess the situation and find a decent enough angle now that the game has progressed, significantly so.

You bend over slightly, eyes fixed on a blue ten that’s not too far from the cue. Before you can make the shot, you hear someone behind you muttering. “Do it like this.”

When you glance over your shoulder, it’s Natasha, only a few inches from where you stand, hands hesitating before she reaches out. “Back up,” she guides, her hands stationing on your hips and forcing you to take a half-shuffle of a step backwards. “And lift your elbow like this.” You’re clay and she shapes you how she wishes, her touch feather light. “Okay. Now try.”

You do exactly as she says, pool cue shooting from your hand and colliding with the cue ball. The ten you’ve had your eyes on sails into the pocket without any interference. 

“Nice shot, sweetheart,” Natasha says, her voice ghosting along the back of your spine. As you straighten up, you glance behind you, noticing the faint grin along the curve of her lips.

“Well that wasn’t sexual at all,” Wanda comments with a low whistle as the pool cue returns to her grip. “Do losers get laid still? I wouldn’t know.” With a toothy flash of a grin, she draws the cue back and makes another shot — you’re not entirely focused on her efforts, thanks to the gravity of Natasha’s sights still pressing deep into your skin.  

Wanda talks a big enough game that she recruits nearly everyone standing around the pool shot to give it a go, which provides a window of opportunity for Natasha to brush a hand along your shoulder and steal you away. “Up for a smoke?” she asks, and you nod. You allow her to lead the way out through the basement’s French doors, slipping outside into the backyard where the sky is dotted with stars, the air smells only the slightest bit cleaner, and the music is nothing but a dull pulse from inside the house.

Natasha steers you away from the patio where other fraternity brothers and their guests are sitting around, enjoying their drinks and laughing amongst their idle, stoned conversations around the fire pit. You follow her into the grass, trailing around the side of the house until the two of you don’t have any other company aside from each other and Thor’s knockout rose bushes that he takes great pride in.

She leans up against the wall, hands fishing in the pocket of her jacket for her lighter. For someone who’s devoted the rest of their evening to shooting metaphorical (or even literal) middle fingers in Carol’s direction, you’re still too far on edge to be nonchalant about any of it. The quiet is all consuming, maddening inside of your buzzing mind. Natasha produces a joint, embers burning on the end as she lights it and brings it up to her lips. You’re left to watch as she takes a long, casual drag, a cloud of smoke billowing from her lips on the exhale. Her wrist then extends, offering the joint up; if there is such a thing as too eager, you’d be the poster child for it, the way you pluck it from her fingers and take a hit.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, her voice a low drag of gravel against the muted bass thud inside of the house. You open an eye and glance over at her, her green eyes burning holes through you as she watches. 

“Eh,” you mutter half-heartedly with a shrug. “Not worth it.”

You pass the joint back to her after you take one more drag, your eyes fixed on the steady stream of smoke that you forcibly control the exit from your mouth. It’s nice to have control over something, you think, even if it is, to some degree, just seeing how long you can hold your breath. 

“Seems like you could use a distraction,” Natasha comments, fingers idly rolling the joint between her fingers as smoke still curls from the tip. 

You laugh, a low and guttural noise that’s passive at best. “Yeah, probably.”

Natasha turns so her entire body is facing you, and it doesn’t register, the way that she’s looking at you, until you feel her brush your hair off of your face. Your eyes fully open, somewhat surprised by the action, watching her carefully. Natasha’s a lot of things, but gentle isn’t one you’d readily associate with her. It’s almost like she’s handling you like glass, waiting for the right moment to shatter you. It’s a hiccup in your chest, a strange feeling washing over your body.

“Let me distract you, then.” She says it simply, like it’s the most logical conclusion to arrive at.

“Nat, what...”

“C’mere.” One of her hands encircles your wrist, guiding you closer. You follow wordlessly in her guidance, unsure of what she’s doing or what’s to come. She takes another hit of the joint, her eyes glowing the same way the end of the joint does, a low burning fire that seems to grow hotter the longer your eyes are connected. 

The hand holding your wrist slides up your body until she’s cupping your jaw, her thumb darting across the expanse of your face to swipe across your lips in a prompt to open them. She lowers the joint, bringing her face inches away from your own as her mouth forms a perfect circle and releases smoke. You’ve shotgunned weed before, but never at such a close proximity. Natasha breathes out and you breathe in, eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy of the moment. 

“Gonna let me distract you some more?” she whispers, and you barely register yourself nodding before her lips capture your own. Her mouth is plush and soft but nothing about her is gentle anymore — this is where she forces a spiderwebbing crack across your surface, the deft way in which she manipulates your lips to do exactly as she’d like, her tongue skating across the skin and opening your mouth to allow her access. You can’t help but to sigh into the kiss. She is exactly what she claims she is: a distraction, a welcome reprieve, and the golden halo around Carol’s head seems fuzzy and jilted now.

Natasha kisses you like she’s trying to set you on fire; at some point she has absconded the joint and ground out its remnants into the mulch, both her hands cupping your face as she boxes you in with her legs and adjusts the two of you so your back is now flush against the wall. “How’s this?” she murmurs against your ear, lips starting a descent down your neck that is feather light and the gentle scrape of her teeth.

“Very... very distracting,” you stammer out, fingers curling into fiery red hair. 

“Good,” Natasha hums, her mouth vibrating over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone that causes your grip in her hair to tighten. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so far in your head.” 

You nod, thankful for the reward of her body pressing against yours. 

“What d’you say?” Her voice ghosts over your skin, and for a moment, you’re not sure what it is she’s asking. It takes a moment, the weed and the liquor clouding your mind, but the dig of Natasha’s blunt fingernails into your hips and the graze of her teeth along your skin serves as motivation. “Huh? What d’you say, princess?” 

“Thank you,” you gasp, the feeling of her mouth tightening around your skin wet and hot sending a glimmer of electricity down your spinal cord. Natasha chuckles, a dark and melodic noise that buzzes through your body. 

“You’re welcome,” she croons. “’S that all you needed? Or do you need more?”

More. It’s the knee jerk response you have, the way your world has narrowed down to just her and the scent of her heady perfume and each individual curve of muscle is now flush against you. Your eyes open only to see Natasha grinning like she’s the fuckin’ devil. 

Maybe you were misplaced somehow.

Natasha’s hands drag over your sides, up and down roughly as she kisses you and forces your legs farther apart so she’s able to snake one of her thighs in between them. She rucks your top up on the edges, fingers brushing over your skin in a delightful contrast to the cool evening air. Natasha is hot, her touch burning and singeing the skin wherever it moves. She’s painting you out of ashes and making you into something beautiful, something uniquely her own. Her hands slip underneath your shirt and you feel one hand trail upwards, fingers wrapping around your breast before squeezing. It elicits another tiny moan from you, which Natasha swallows down with a kiss. “Shh,” she hisses against your lips. “Be quiet.”

You arch into her touch as her fingers slip beneath the cup of your bra and pinch your nipple tight, another squeak of pleasure groaned into her mouth. It only encourages her further, the other hand of hers moving in the opposite direction. “Want me to touch you?” she whispers in your ear while you press your mouth into her shoulder, breath warm against your ear and her teeth just barely missing your earlobe. “Bet you’re not distracted now; only thing you and that pussy are thinking about is me, huh?”

“Fuck, Nat,” you mumble into her skin.

“Yeah you are,” she replies with a shit eating grin, your head tilting back until it roughly meets the back of the wall as her hand goes up your skirt. 

You’d been meticulous prior to coming over, thinking on whatever lone star trailing in the sky that you’d be seducing Carol tonight; you’d purposefully worn your skimpiest pair of underwear just to show her what she could have if she was with you. It’s only when you see the look on Natasha’s face, the way her pupils dilate and her jaw slackens the slightest bit as her fingers skim in between the folds of your thigh and vulva and feels lace that you feel something resembling satisfaction. “You came ready for a distraction, princess,” she grumbles, moving your underwear to the side and swiping her fingers through what is now sheer want dripping from you. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“N... Nat,” you whine, squirming around in the pursuit of pressure. “Touch me.”

She places the tip of her finger at your entrance, just barely teasing it in. “Ask nicely, honey.”

The words spill from your lips without thought. “Please, Nat, please touch me, fuck m—” She cuts you off as she slips her finger inside of you and you all but rocket up the side of the wall at the feeling. Her free hand, still underneath your shirt, wrestles out from beneath the fabric and is slapped over your mouth to muffle whatever noise you make.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” she says between her gritted teeth. “Here.” She presses her index and middle fingers against your lips and you acquiesce, opening them wide enough to allow them to slip in. “Suck.”

You do as you’re told, happy to oblige as she begins to finger you. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way she fucks you; she adds another finger and finds a steady rhythm, curling each time she’s knuckle deep inside of you just so she can be rewarded with you humming around the fingers in your mouth. It amuses her to some extent, the way her eyes have darkened and her mouth is slightly agape. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and considering how tight you are wound, you’re not going to last long.

"Clench around me, pretty girl,” she hisses amongst the other litany of dirty things she’s whispering in your ear. “Such a sweet pussy, does whatever I ask it to; what if I want this pussy all to myself? You gonna let me have it?”

You nod, Natasha withdrawing her fingers from your mouth before she hauls you in for the filthiest kiss of your life. “Fuck,” you whimper against her lips. “Yours, Nat, your pussy.”

“Yeah, I know. This is my pussy now, all tight and hot and wet and desperate just for me. This was what you needed, wasn’t it? Needed me to fuck you silly until you forget how to put one foot in front of the other.”

“Please, Nat, gonna...” 

“What?” she teases, her thumb flicking across your clit and you know that she’s doomed you, mind and body barreling down a track that there is no return from. “What, baby? Use your words.”

“Gonna come,” you manage to get out, and she fucking laughs.

“‘S right,” she agrees. “Gonna make this little pussy come all over my fingers, since I’m the only one who can. That right?” You nod; her fingers tighten in your hair and pull your head back so your neck is exposed for her. “C’mon, baby, wanna see you make a mess on my hand. Come for me like a good little slut. You know you want to.” You do, you do, and everything is bordering on the edge of too much the way Natasha is sucking your neck and rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Show me who’s pussy this is. Come.”

Another few thrusts and flicks of your clit and you are gone, Natasha bringing her mouth back to yours to swallow the keens and cries of you hitting your climax. The brick wall underneath you scratches at your shirt but it is a heavenly feeling, losing control underneath Natasha. She just smiles when she pulls away and you slump into her, perfectly sated. 

“That was hot,” she says with a wicked grin, pulling her fingers out of you. She doesn’t break eye contact as she brings them up to her lips, sucking your taste off of them. Her eyes alight with pleasure, a contented hum reverberating from her vocal cords. “Thanks, pretty girl.”

Beat that, Danvers.

[bvtbxtch]

White Knuckles and Red Hearts | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

a cute little (I don't know what this work means, the fic is 3.9k words) oneshot for valentines day <3 IT STILL COUNTS BECAUSE ITS FEBRUARY

You had been paired together in Home Ec. You were making eclairs. Everyone else in your class sneered at him, hoping - praying - that they wouldn’t have to be in the same workspace as the freak of Hawkins High. Sure, you didn’t jump for joy when you met him in your designated kitchen space, but you gave him a warm smile and introduced yourself. From that moment on, your name rang through his mind like church bells. His hands shook when the two of you measured ingredients, but you quickly put him at ease with your effortless friendliness.

“So, eclairs huh… have you ever made them before?” You smiled over the metal bowl filled with various dry ingredients. 

“Ahh, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. Don’t find a lot of fancy baking in the trailer park. But I did spend about 10 minutes in a French class before I was kicked out so I do know that it’s french.” Eddie jousted back with a dry laugh. 

“That’s where I knew you from! Your face looked so familiar to me!” You giggled. Eddie’s cheeks bloomed a glowing red. Your smile grew and you peeled your eyes away from him to form your choux. 

“You know, in French eclair means flash.” You babbled. Eddie could see your cheeks were turning a darker pink than the rouge already donning your apples. Eddie wanted to listen to you talk forever. “They say it’s because the glaze on the top of them… or because people eat them so quickly, they’re gone in a flash!” You both looked up and locked eyes. You suddenly felt shy. Stupid under the glow of the big brown doe eyes peering down at you. How the hell did anyone think that this person in front of you was a freak, was dangerous, wasn’t worth friends?

“Sorry, I’m babbling now.” You turned away to begin whipping cream while Eddie had begun to boil water.

“No, no! Babble away! You have interesting stories.” Eddie praised. 

The rest of the afternoon flew by as the two of you laughed, stole spoonfuls of chocolate, and filled your delicate pastries with sweet cream. The bell dismissing the students from their last period of the day startled the two of you out of your dream world. You handed Eddie the last bowl that needed to be put away and wiped your wet hands on your jeans. 

“Well, thanks for being a great home ec partner, Eddie. If we get to pick our people next time, we should work together again.” You smiled and squeezed his shoulder as you breezed past him to grab your backpack. You flashed him another smile and waved at the door. Eddie felt his knees buckle. You were beautiful; Eddie had noticed you at the beginning of the semester, in awe of how simple and easy you made beauty look. You weren’t popular by any means, but as a member of the drama club, you had a great group of friends. Eddie couldn’t imagine why you would want anything to do with him.

DnD wasn’t the same; Eddie’s mind was not fully immersed in the world he had created. Usually charismatic and intense, he was tripping on words, forgetting important details he had set up last session. His mind was transfixed on you. God, he felt pathetic. You were the first girl that wasn’t in Hellfire or wasn’t trying to get free weed from him to be nice to you. Was that all this was? Was he that pathetic that he was going to fall in love with any girl who was nice to him? Surely not. You were different. Not every girl had glowing eyes like you did; nor did they have such a friendly smile, and the slightest dusting of freckles across their cheeks like yours. They didn’t genuinely laugh at his jokes or touched his arm like you did. You weren’t petty or rude or hung out with him as a joke or-

“Dude!” A squeaky voice rang out, interrupting his daydreams of your interactions. “I rolled a 16 does that hit or not?!” Dustin Henderson was not a patient person on a normal day, but now, the third time he had to snap Eddie out of whatever coma he was in, he was rapidly growing angrier by the second.

“Uh- yeah.. How many hit points does it take?” Eddie mumbled. 

Within 25 minutes, the whole Hellfire party had surrendered to their DM, ending the session 40 minutes before their scheduled end. With a frustrated huff, the gaggle of high schoolers exited the stuffy prop room and into the dim hallways. 

February rain was not uncommon in Hawkins. It had caught you off guard though. In typical midwest fashion, the morning had started out mild and sunny. Now, at 5:45 when you were attempting to flee the grip of Hawkins High and make the 10 minute walk to the comfort of your own home, you were met with sleet and rain. You paused at the thick glass doors keeping you warm and dry and let out a long sigh that clouded the vision in front of you. You shrugged your shoulders and pushed through the doors into the cold, wet parking lot. You were kept warm by the thought of seeing an outlandish metalhead in the morning. You had to admit, you had been scared by Eddie Munson. His hard shell deterred many people away, but when you were given the opportunity to get to know him today, you penetrated right through to his soft center. You had to stay after school to direct for the one act festival next month, but like Eddie, your mind was transfixed on your home ec partner. You replayed your conversations in your head as you headed to the main street that dissected the community of little houses and the high school field. You shivered into your jean jacket, cursing the fact that your fashion choices weren’t practical at all for a rainstorm in February. Your eyes stayed glued to the pavement in fear that your face would freeze solid if you looked against the wind. Your hair stuck to the sides of your cheeks. You moved your legs as fast as they would carry you.

Eddie jogged out to his van, now covered in frosted rain drops. The short jaunt already had made his hair heavy with moisture and left a shiver in his spine. His engine lazily sputtered to life and he tore out of the school’s parking lot. He couldn’t wait to get home to pick up his guitar and write you forbidden love songs you would never hear. His headlights pelted through the thick, icy rain. God it was miserable. As he rounded the corner of yet another sleepy avenue, he slowed his van and pulled to the side of the road. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he stared at your hunched over figure fighting through the storm (and very obviously losing). He pulled his rusted van over to the sidewalk just ahead of where you were trudging. You stopped and squinted towards the rusty Chevrolet Astro and the curly haired driver that was looking at you with his beautiful, yet worried, eyes. You could see Eddie’s tongue poke out of his mouth as he reached over to the passenger side of his van to unlatch the door. 

“Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?” The boy had to yell to be heard over the pelting rain and the rattle of his exhaust pipe. “Do you need a lift?”

Your heartbeat quickened and your cheeks grew warm. You smiled at him sweetly. “It’s okay, Eddie. It's only a few more blocks to my house.”

“Are you sure? It’s terrible outside. I really don’t mind!” You paused in contemplation. Did you know Eddie well enough to get into his van? Most of your friends would say no, but you felt like you’d known him for a long time. You felt safe around him. So you shrugged your shoulders and hopped into his van with a small ‘thank you’ leaving your lips. A sudden wave of bashfulness hit you after you gave Eddie approximate direction to your house. 

“I-I usually just walk, you know? It was so nice this morning, but…” you ended in a curt giggle, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in embarrassment. It made Eddie’s dimples sprout on each of his cheeks, like you had seen for the first time this afternoon. 

“Well a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking at all! Let alone in weather like this!” Fuck. His lips moved before his brain could catch up and stop him. His eyes grew double in size and it was his turn for his cheeks to turn a bold red. “Sorry I didn’t mean- I mean-”

“It's okay Eddie.” You turned your head away from him to stifle your grin. “I appreciate the ride”

It felt like no time before Eddie pulled up to your house.

“Thank you again, so much for the ride. That was so sweet of you.” That damned shoulder touch again. The warmth from the hand around his jean jacketed shoulder sent molten lava straight to his heart. 

“Hey,” he choked. He ravaged his cluttered console for an old napkin and a sharpie. He hastily scribbled his digits on the napkin and shoved it towards you, eyes glued to his knees. 

“Here, take this, just in case you get caught in this shit weather again.” He didn’t feel your fingers take the paper. He peered up at you, cheeks bright red and brown eyes bright with rejection already. “You know, I just-I don’t mind driving you, you know? It’s strictly just-” He was interrupted by your soft hand around his wrist.

“Eddie” you cooed as you took the wrinkled paper from his hand. “You are the sweetest. Of course I’ll take it. I really appreciate it.” Your eyes locked with him and you felt electricity surge from him to you. You released your grip with a blush and backed away from his van.

“Maybe I can call you about some home ec homework too?” Eddie thought his chest was going to burst out of his chest. 

“Y-yeah, doll. That would be great.”

He watched to make sure you got into your house, and left only when you flashed him a smile and wave from your door. He drove home smitten, still smelling your perfume, feeling your warmth from the empty seat beside him. Blissful giggles escaped his lips. 

-

The shrill ring of the telephone startled Eddie out of his daze and brushed through the cloud in his room to the hallway. He picked up the phone and answered with a lazy ‘hey’. His throat closed when he heard your voice peep on the other end of the line. \

“Hey, Eddie. I-is this a bad time?” Yes. Eddie thought. He was just starting to feel his buzz, now he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

“No! No not at all! What’s up, Y/N?” His baritone voice went straight to the butterflies in your stomach. You took a deep breath to ground yourself. You could hardly believe what he was doing to you. Yesterday, Eddie was a stranger to you, someone that was interesting to look at, but you hadn’t dared interact with him - he was too cool for you. 

“I-I’m so sorry to ask this… but I think I left my history textbook in your van from this afternoon. I am so sorry but is there any way I can come pick it up or you could-”

“Oh! Yeah I will bring it to you, no problem!” Eddie choked. Your stomach sank in excitement.

“Oh, great, thank you so much!”

“I’ll be there in 10” Eddie hung up the phone before you could let out another apologetic thank you. You bit at your nails in selfish excitement. 

Eddie raced through the darkening streets of Hawkins. He remembered where you lived like the back of his hand: past the school three blocks, to the left, then take a right and you were almost at the end of the street. Luckily the storm  His headlights pulled up to the sidewalk in front of your house, like he did earlier that afternoon. To his surprise, he saw the upstairs window on the second floor illuminated with your excited figure. You sheepishly slid the window open and crawled through it and shimmied down the ivied siding. You trotted up to Eddie’s unrolled passenger window. 

“Hey, Eddie. Thank you so much!”

“No problem. Front door broken?” Eddie chuckled. 

“Nah, strict parents make for sneaky kids.” You wagged your eyebrows at him. You boldly opened his passenger door and snaked into the seat. Eddie’s cheeks grew warm with yours as your bodies were now closer (but not as close as you both craved). He sheepishly handed you your textbook, which you pulled to your chest.

“Thanks, Eddie.” you peeped. A sudden burst of courage hit you, and although your hands felt numb, you took a breath and let the words escape your mouth. “I need to tell you, I don’t think that you’re crazy and weird like people say.” You dared to look into his soft, dark eyes. “I think you’re really sweet, and funny. And it really sucks that Hawkins is too small minded to see how great you are.” You leaned over and gave him a sweet peck on the cheek before hopping out of the passenger seat. Eddie wanted to pull you back to him, to grab your face and press his lips to yours; but he was frozen in shock. He would have never imagined you ever wanting to talk to him again, let alone thinking he was a good guy AND pressing your perfect pout to his cheek?

“Thank you again, Eddie, for driving all the way over here. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He mustered up the strength to break out of his daze. “Yeah, doll. I’ll see you then”

With silent smiles, Eddie watched you retreat back up the siding of your house back through your window, pausing to look back at him. 

Eddie drove home with a smile plastered to his face. 

-

The second week of February was filled with stolen glances in the busy hallways of Hawkins High. Your home economics classes flew by, papers being graffitied with notes and doodles passed between the two of you. Your dreams were filled with Eddie. Every second or third comment to your regular grouping of lunch buddies was something that the metalhead said or did or comments that reminded you of him; But you didn’t dare disturb him and his gaggle of Hellfire-clad freshmen; just like he knew he would warrant a death wish by coming to speak to you and your friends. So, you kept your little slice of heaven to blushing smiles, secret notes, and your home ec class.

When the two of you both found yourselves at school late (which both of you were finding more excuses, Eddie would offer to drive you home. You would sheepishly follow him through the parking lot and take (what Eddie will now permanently hope is) your spot in his rusty van. You were scared to admit it to Eddie, but it was easy for your own revelation: Eddie was very quickly becoming your comfort person.

February 14th was usually a day that reaffirmed that Eddie was destined for a life of loneliness in Hawkins, Indiana. Until, he pried open his overfull locker and was greeted with a small green note with his name neatly printed on it. 

“Eddie. Thank you for being such a great person to be around. I hope you have a great day - just like the rest. You deserve them.”

Under the message, your name sat with a small heart scribbled next to it. Eddie’s cheeks burnt a furious red. His big brown eyes scanned the hallway desperately, hoping to spot your bouncy curls, or hear your infectious laugh; but to no avail. He trudged through the halls. He strode up to Chrissy Cunningham and her gaggle of cheerleaders - your normal crowd.

“Hey Chrissy.”

“Oh- uh, Eddie?” The metalhead could tell that he had caught the girl off guard.

“Sorry, don’t mean to bother you in your natural habitat” the girls shifted uneasily. “But do you know where Y/N is? I need to talk to her… about home ec homework.” He wavered over his lie, and Chrissy caught the note grasped tightly in his hand. 

“I haven’t seen her yet today.” The girl gave a polite but curt answer. The group dissipated, but Chrissy offered a light touch on his shoulder. “When I see her, I’ll let her know you need to talk to her.” With her words ringing in his ear, and the shrill warning of the morning bell, Eddie was alone in the hallway with his lovestruck mind. He decided to do what he did every time he was in crisis: go to the bleachers and make himself forget about all the shit that was worrying him. He spent the morning outside, but by the end of the day Eddie had spent his time either thinking about you, or tracing every inch of the school looking for you.

You had stayed home, school feeling less than ideal today. You had stuffed the note in Eddie’s locker at the end of the day - opting to stay even later than he did and walked yourself home. You didn’t sleep all night, and could barely get any food down today. Would he understand? You were only bold enough to make a move in subtleties. Would he care? 

Eddie gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles. It was a drive that he wished was both over already and would never end. It was a short drive to your house from Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie had called Hellfire off and beelined out of the school when he found out you hadn’t shown up at all. He felt he had paced a trench in his bedroom floor debating whether or not he should go to your house. What if the letter was a mistake? Or if you were only reaffirming you only liked him as a friend? When the clock hit 9:30pm, he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and trotted down the concrete steps. When the van rumbled to a start, he turned the radio fully off, too tempted to be absorbed in his own thoughts. The streetlights of your neighborhood illuminated the small red heart box and the humble bouquet of roses that sat where you normally did. Eddie chewed on his lip so hard he thought he tasted blood. His brakes squealed to a halt on the sidewalk outside of your tidy little house. He had hoped that the light in your bedroom would be off, so he could wimp out and go home and hide in his bed forever. But his heart skipped an excited beat when he saw the light in the window you had crawled out of a week ago was on, and it illuminated your figure moving through your room.His breath caught in his throat as he turned the key in his ignition and grabbed his wares to begin his journey up the ivy siding to your window. 

-

You had hid yourself away in your room - cassettes, VCRs and books being your welcome distraction from your anxious heart. A tap on your window pulled you from Madonna’s breathy whines about living in a material world. Your heart dropped to your knees when you saw a mop of dark ringlets framing an alabaster face. Eddie’s eyes were wider than you have ever seen them, but filled with an unreadable haze. You rushed to the window and let the boy fall into your room. He straightened himself up with a nervous smile, you returned the sentiment. His hands stayed fixed behind his long body. He shifted his weight, but couldn’t help but inch closer to you as well. 

“Hey” he peeped

“Hi, Eddie. What are you-”

“I-uh. I got your note.”

Your breath hitched and it was your turn to shift your weight. The spot on your carpet was suddenly too tempting to look at than Eddie’s face. His hands obscured his vision. In them you saw a small red box, and flowers. You looked up at Eddie with confused excitement; his face was warm, cheeks blushing. 

“I looked for you all day at school today because I wanted to ask you if you’d be my-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you threw yourself into his arms. Your cheek could feel the pounding in his chest and he stood in shock. 

“Of course I will, Eddie.” You breathed into him. You pulled yourself away from him and took the flowers from his hand. You placed them on your desk with a giggle. You turned to see the open box that Eddie had in his hand. In it laid a small chain with a pink and purple guitar pick. You gasped in awe and your eyes filled with tears. 

“I thought, since I have one-” he pulled a red and black pick on a chain out of his Dio tee. “We could kind of match.” Eddie’s voice shook. His cheeks matched the red on his own necklace. You pulled him to you and pecked your plumped lips against his cheek. Eddie chuckled as he spun you to put your new favorite piece of jewelry on you. Eddie clasped the metal and ran his hands down your arms. 

“Let me take you on a date, please?” He whispered. His hands sent shivers throughout your body. His lips pursed on the top of your head and you wished you could stay in this moment forever. You turned in his arms and draped yourself around his neck. His arms migrated from your arms to your cheeks. His doe eyes were dark with admiration, he wanted to devour you whole, but he waited, silently asking for permission to press his lips to yours. You silently obliged him and tilted your chin up to him. His soft lips met yours and the world slowed. His thumb traced small grounding circles on your jaw. Your insides filled with molten, a desperation for the moment to never stop. Eddie’s soft lips probed yours, lightly asking for permission to deepen your kiss. You permitted him with a content sigh and let Eddie show you just how much he really cared about you. All of the words he was too afraid to say to you, all of the times he wished that he could sweep you off your feet and kiss you in front of everyone. For the thank you he couldn’t give you for the note you left him. For the times he wanted to ask you out in his van, or the time he desperately wanted to tuck your wet hair behind your ear the first day he drove you home. He poured all his heart out to you and you felt it. You pulled away softly with wet eyes. 

“Eddie, I would be honored.”

-

Taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @ali-r3n @brinleighsstuff @filth-fiction-archive @vintagehellfire @kirstinjayjay @darknesseddiem @poofyloofy @sluggzillaa @aol19 @dark-angel-is-back @keikoraven @emxxblog @adrenalineeerevolver @crybabyddl @lovemegood @cherry-pop3547 @cozmiccass @leelei1980 @trixyvixx @skylar-ish-meh @harrysgothicbitch @emsgoodthinkin @micheledawn1975 @thehuntresswolf @girlwiththerubyslippers @blueberry-lemon

[arlathen]

had the vision of amadea figuring out that, like, the nice courier who brings her things from the village is one of solas' agents and she invites him in and makes him help her peel carrots and potatoes for soup and then she ladles some into jars and seals them up and is like "okay, you saw me make this and can attest that they arent poisoned, so can you make sure that it gets delivered to the dread wolf. i have a feeling he isnt eating well"

[leslieseveride]

dreamt that s6 premiered last night and that tim proposed to lucy, and while as far-fetched as it is to get a chenford proposal of all things straight out the gate, i must admit tim bradford circling back to the spot where he first asked out lucy in front of the precinct to pop the big question is so incredibly genius of my brain to come up with during my deep slumber, therefore i have to add it to my never ending list of wips.

[shitpostingkats]

What ships do you have for Yu-Gi-Oh! male leads and the Yu-Gi-Oh! series you have seen?

For most of the main characters, I don't really have any ships! Not opposed to an idea of any of them in relationships, but one of the reasons I got into yugioh was the lack of romantic subplots. This being said, I am an utter fiend for starshipping (Jaden x Yusei)

They're two of the most ace aro idiots of all time how are they dating no one knows it doesn't even look like a relationship to most people, but they know each others demons they are foils they are soulmates.... I will yell about this to my dying day. I have an entire aspec romance novel sitting uncompleted in my drafts about this. They just get eachother despite being completely different breeds of people.

Also Jesse having a crush on Jaden and having to get over it and settle into this completely anormative chaos relationship where they're soulmates who aren't dating but are each others' Most Important Person.... Yubel accepting and loving Jaden just the way they are now regardless of promises made in the past.... I see a queerplatonic ship and I go "Mh yes delicious."

[torchickentacos]

girl help i've been hit with the twentysomething curse of wanting to move to a city where nobody knows my name and where I get to feel and see and be something new✌️

[ishipthis]

Chapter 2 - Ship Happens, but there's motorbikes.

Ship Happens, take a cruise (25092 words) by Ishipthis, rainbowsandklainebows Chapters: 2/10 Fandom: iCarly Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Freddie Benson/Carly Shay Characters: Freddie Benson, Carly Shay, Original Characters Additional Tags: Fluff, Feels, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Cruise Ships, Holidays Summary: It's almost 5 years since Carly left for Italy and the gang have been planning a spring break to end all spring breaks with an iCarly reunion cruise! What happens when Sam bails and Carly and Freddie are left to enjoy the sun, sand and waves by themselves? Well…. Ship Happens…..?

[stylecouncil]

i don't really dislike taylor swift or anything so you probably disapprove lol, i enjoy it as tunes, but i've always thought that the music critics who profess to love her must be lying (especially b/c in 2016ish the same people all hated her). idk if that's better/worse than if they just had awful taste. i do think that critic's pop music adoration (like when ppl were acting like carly rae jepson was amazing...) is attempted over-correction for past "elitism" etc.

no I mean like that man wrote a whole book. look up rob sheffield. like I don’t think it’s an act I really just think he’s just insane. stream sam’s town.

[zmeydeva-arch]

this whole nsfw sideblog thing is getting out of hand. i have been in this community for years and have never seen less (written) porn on the dash so i don’t see why relegating mature content to another blog serves a purpose when this site censors us enough. also i thought we were past the whole shame culture when it comes to sex considering it was y’all who wanted to rebrand “sinday” but now you are hiding your porn on another blog? make it make sense anyways post p*ssy on main just tag accordingly i truly do not care 🤷🏻‍♀️

[sleeplittleearth]

sharing a teensy snippet from the modern karaoke bar au in the hopes that it might motivate me to actually finish it:

"If I have to hear one more person sing all eight minutes and 42 seconds of 'American Pie', I'm gonna end up serving several consecutive life sentences for brutally murdering everyone in here and then myself." The offending song was just coming to an end on the tinny speakers of the Hideout's karaoke system; Eddie was behind the bar, cutting lime wedges and contemplating whether he would be better off if he shoved a couple of tiki umbrellas through his eardrums. Jeff, who was the audience for Eddie's very reasonable threats of violence, stood on the opposite side of the bar with a half-full tray of empty glasses and a bemused smile. "Wouldn't you being, y'know, dead make prison a little redundant?" Jeff asked, unloading his tray onto the bartop. "Not when I'm done." Eddie waved his paring knife to emphasize his point as he spoke. "It'll be such a violent, repugnant crime against humanity that they'll lock up my bones, just to be safe." He went back to slicing limes, eyes mostly on his hands. "And after all that, I'll still look saintly next to some asshole who saw fit to make a room full of strangers listen to almost ten minutes of off-tempo Don McLean on a Tuesday night." "The nerve of some people," Jeff dead-panned. "God knows you would never pick a karaoke song that's twelve minutes long, like half instrumental, and barely has more than one lyric." Eddie huffed indignantly. "That was totally different! I did it for the bit, and I absolutely killed it! And anyway, Meatloaf is sacred, man." Whatever Eddie's face was doing, it definitely wasn't pouting. Nope. Jeff rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, whatever helps you sleep at night, Munson."

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Chapters: 7/12 Fandom: Formula 1 RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc Characters: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris Additional Tags: Background Carlando, So background that Carlos isn't even tagged in this fic as a character, Celebrity stylist Charles, Music person Pierre, DJ Daniel, assistant Lando, coachella, Charles is going to wear lace, everyone scream, assorted smut, Hook-up gone wrong, or right, You Decide, It's Coachella so there is glitter eye make-up, this is so self-indulgent that it will rot your teeth, Oh, we talk about death here because of course we do Series: Part 1 of The Loneliest Time Collection Summary:

Charles goes to the desert for 10 days in search of a reset. Determined to put his ex out of his mind and maybe finally take the advice of his nosey assistant and have a fling. He meets Pierre.

Can Charles keep his heart from getting involved?

*The Loneliest Time Collection is a series of works based on Carly Rae Jepsen's album 'The Loneliest Time'. These fics are unrelated and can be read in any order.*

—

I realized that I forgot to post about this on Tumblr, but the first piece of this series has started posting! The vibes of this story are just so fun.

I will be working on this series sporadically over the next year and all the fics are based on a Carly Rae song. It will be a multi-ship series so there will probably be something for you!

Scream if you love Carly, basically.

[bvtbxtch]

Angry Heart | Eddie Munson x fem!reader (Part 4: The Aftermath)

Summary: Your best friend Chrissy Cunningham always got everything she ever wanted, even you new friend and crush Eddie Munson. When Chrissy does the unthinkable, Eddie is left to pick up the pieces alone... or is he?

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually), reader and Chrissy are friends but have a fallout. Minimal usage of Y/N

Series warnings: MDNI 18 +, Smut, fluff and angst (everything all rolled into one beautiful shit show), mentions of drugs and alcohol being consumed, overall adult language and theme. By clicking the read more, you agree that you are over 18! Ageless and minor blogs who interact will be blocked.

Word count: ~6.8k

A/N: It's TIIIIIIIIMMMMMMEEEE! Thank you all so so so much for the love on this little fic that could. This was going to contain more smutty smut smut, but I am going to do a part 5/conclusion to this fic and it will not take 4 months for it to come out LOL. I have been frantically writing for the past week, so I am v sorry I have missed y'all! Thank you for your patience!

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The crunch of gravel underneath your half-laced converse was deafening. You finally felt free enough to let the small streams of tears waterfall down your face. Your ears were ringing with a choir of Eddie’s disappointed questions. You pressed your eyes shut to see Eddie’s warm eyes become dark pools of hatred. Eddie hated you, he must have; But how would you know? You burst through Eddie’s wobbly front door and bound down the steps before he could stop you - and lord, he wanted to stop you. 

His feet were planted, like vines of insecurity had seeped through the floor and trapped him where he stood. He reached for you in desperation, instantly regretting the poison that had spewed out of his mouth. He had just had you, finally, and he shoved you away.

“What do you mean, that wasn’t the first time you and Steve kissed?” Eddie’s hands began to shake, everything around him moved in slow motion. Why would you do that? Why would you do that to him? You had him in the palm of your hand and instead of embracing him, you tightened into a fist and crushed him. His mind played tricks, replacing your beautiful glowing eyes with Chrissy’s bored baby blues, your kisses that were stamped on his face and neck now burned, reminding him of how Chrissy’s glossed lips used to trail the veins of his neck. As much as he tried to burn her from his memory, the remnants of her wrath scorched him. 

You couldn’t meet the boy’s betrayed gaze. Your lips quivered in defeat. It didn’t mean anything. You didn’t want him to. You wanted to grab Eddie’s face and yell to him, that the time that Steve’s lips touched yours, you dreamt they were Eddie’s. That you pushed the quaff of Hair away from you and you ran through your front door, desperate to hear the rasp of your metalhead. But you didn’t. You retreated into your brain, like a black hole suctioned you through space. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t talk. The beautiful boy in front of you paced and pulled at his curled roots, his pasty face contorted in a pout. His glazed eyes made your own burn.

“What the fuck, Y/N? You- you try to fuck me in the bathroom at his house, you come home with me, you tell me you want me, when you’ve been kissing him all along? Do you like him? Did you fuck him?”  Eddie’s words sliced through you. You heard him, but could barely register what was going on. Your brain screamed one thing only at you:

Run

So you did the only thing that seemed logical. With a betrayed look in your glassy eyes, you turned on your heels and stampeded for the door. The trailer’s small hallway seemed to stretch on for miles, your hand getting further and further away from the door. Your heart screamed at your brain to allow you to stop and curl into Eddie’s broad chest. You wanted to scream into his ribs so his heart could feel how sorry you were. But you wanted to hit him. You wanted to pound your fists against the walls and yell at him - this wasn’t anyone’s fault. You weren’t - and still aren’t Eddie’s girlfriend. He doesn’t own you and you don’t owe him anything. But your stupid brain shut off and carried you down the drab carpet of the trailer. Eddie watched you in silent horror - watching you slip through his fingers yet again. 

The cool October air pushes your held breath out in a broken sob. You stand just outside of the Munson trailer door, hoping - pleading with the universe - that Eddie will cross the threshold of his safety inside and pull you back into him. But, he didn’t move when you went to leave. He let you go, just like he did before. You ruined what good thing you had coming for the two of you. With another crisp sigh, your shoulders shrank to your ears, you wrapped your arms around your torso, and you trudged along the gravel to walk yourself across town to get into your own bed and shut the world out.

The air, which was once cool enough to don only a light jacket, had become more punishing than when you picked your outfit this afternoon. Your breath fogged in front of you as you shivered your way down the side of the highway. You couldn’t help but let your thoughts grow cold with your body. Your sorrow turned to anger and resentment. How dare he? How dare he make you feel guilty when he did the exact same thing to Chrissy with you. How dare he get angry when he strung you along for so long. You hated to admit it, and maybe it’s why there was a ping of want in your chest when Steve kissed you, but you now understood part of Chrissy’s need to be desired. Steve wanted you when it felt like no one did. You had gotten a bit drunk on the power before the sobering idea of Eddie’s heartbroken face pulled you away from the moment. You just wanted Eddie to need you as much as you needed him. 

You were so entangled in your own thoughts, you barely noticed the incandescent beams that cast your shadow in front of you. Your eyes tore from the gravel when you heard a soft voice call your name. A beautiful brunette with big blue eyes peered at you from her tidy station wagon. 

“Oh, hi, Nancy.” you sniffled. You rubbed your nose and flashed the girl a tight smile. 

“Are you okay?” Her sweet soprano lulled you in. You broke. You missed having a girl to talk to.

“Umm… no” you waffled. 

“Get in.”

You only knew Nancy Wheeler through her reputation at school. Before she graduated, you knew her as the goodie two shoes who got straight A’s and was in every academic and writing club she could get her manicured hands on. She was nice to you, but intense. 

What you didn’t know about Nancy Wheeler is that now that she had graduated and was working for the Hawkins Post, she found time to experiment with her wild side. You had gently got into her car and even though she offered to drive you home, she also begged for you to go to the opening of a new nightclub downtown.

“I don’t know, Nance. I’m literally in my outfit from Steve’s party.” Nancy waved her hand like she was fanning your words away from her. 

“Not a problem at all. Most kids that were at Steve’s will probably show anyway! Besides, you have nice legs. Your skirt shows ‘em off.” She winked at you and with a small giggle, you conceded and buckled yourself in for an adventure with Hawkins’ sweetheart.

The ride there, Nancy probed about why you were crying on the side of the road. Your emotions spilled out of you like a bleeding wound, you couldn’t stop the hemorrhaging of feelings you threw at the girl who flashed her big eyes between the road and your face in utter awe of the twisted story you laid out for her. The only response she could let out was a small ‘holy shit’.

You let out a sad chuckle, and she grabbed your clammy hand resting in your lap. 

“Fuck Eddie Munson, Fuck Steve Harrington, and Fuck Chrissy Cunningham. Johnathan is coming to pick me up and he’s gonna drive you home too. Let’s drink this whole problem away. The rest of the night isn’t about you, or some stupid boys.” Nancy’s gaze was mischievous, but you could tell that her words were sincere. You were ready to let Eddie and Steve melt away from you like a layer of candle wax. You were ready to illuminate just for you. No boys. No Chrissy. Just you. 

The early morning of November 1 was full of weed smoke, fireball shots, and blaring music. The neon lights of the new dance club reflected off of your damp skin. Your body had been fastened next to Nancy’s in the middle of the dancefloor, while shot after shot flowed through your body. You thought you were tipsy at Steves? That seemed like nonsense. Your limbs felt fuzzy and limp, but the euphoric smile stayed plastered on your face. The only thing running through your brain was how loud the music was and how your throat burned from the shots. You grabbed onto Nancy’s bony hips and danced with her. You both laughed as you slotted your leg between hers and mimicked the desperate young couples on the dancefloor needy for some sort of action. The music ebbed while the DJ transitioned to the next dance track, so Nancy grabbed your wrist and led you back to the crowded bar. You both squeezed up to the bartop, bumping shoulders with a skinny blonde. It wasn’t until you turned your eyes to Nancy’s grim face that you knew something was wrong. You saw the girl mouth a small ‘fuck’ before you caught her eyes making contact with someone else’s right behind you. You mimicked Nancy’s fuck as you heard a shrill voice over the new thump of the next track.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N… Didn’t you leave to sleep with my boy like three hours ago?”

You felt your body go numb as you turned to face another pair of baby blues, but these were attached to a glossed scowl and a tall blonde ponytail. Your jaw tightened as she looked you up and down.

“Gee, for hanging out with total burnouts like the Hellfire club, you really don’t know how to hold your liquor.” You flinched at her cutting words. Your heartbeat quickened. Chrissy, the girl who used to support you through almost anything, the girl who used to support your friendships, the one who even pushed you to pursue Gareth so you could go on double dates with her and Eddie, now weaponizing everything you love against you. 

“Fuck off, Chrissy. I’m not doing this.” You tried to push your body off of the bar, but the monster in front of you grabbed your shoulder and leaned into your ear.

“Why? Did you hear about how Eddie called me after you left his? How he told me how much he missed me? Let’s go outside and talk about it.” Chrissy dared. Your eyes darted to Nancy, her face screwed into an angry and concerned scowl. You cupped your hand to Nancy’s ear and told her about your plan to go outside with Chrissy. You reassured her you were fine. You told her you were  finishing this once and for all. She questioned you with a glare, but you nodded in reassurance. 

“Fine, Cunningham. Let’s talk if you wanna talk.” You let the girl lead you out of the club through the front door, once again, you were met with the cool November air, a stark contrast from the heat from the club. 

You fully admit that hasty decisions made when drunk rarely end up being good decisions. In your brain, telling Chrissy to fuck herself was going to bring you closure. It was going to end your night on a win and you were going to dance the night away with Nancy until Johnathan dragged your tired bodies off the dancefloor. But that was an ideal world, not real life. You seemed to be ignorant to the fact that alcohol also amplifies the hold your feelings had on your heart. 

“What the fuck do you want, Chrissy? What the fuck did I do to you now?” You scoffed. You tried your best to harden your heart, but the waver in your voice let Chrissy know that she had gotten to you. In her game, she had won. A sinister smile spread across her flushed face.

“I just wanted to give you a warning. Since you think that you can finesse my boyfriend away from me.” The girl spat. 

“Ex-boyfriend Chrissy. Tell me why I was just with him and he said you were through and he wanted me?” Chrissy cackled at your rebuttal.

“Hah. I guess there is one thing I know about Eddie Munson that you don’t.” Chrissy stepped towards you. “Munson will do anything for a lay.” Chrissy spoke with such casualty in her voice it made your blood run cold. “I mean, you and I both know I definitely gave it up the first time he took me out, but I was desperate to see what the fuckhead was packing…”

“Shut the fuck up, Chrissy!” you wished your voice could be used as a forcefield to push her backwards. She did step back, however, impressed with the strength in your voice. But she laughed, she knew she had taken residence under your skin, it was time to play with all of your nerves. 

“Why? Are you jealous of me, Y/N?” Chrissy sneered. “Are you finally ready to admit that you’re just angry that I got everything you ever wanted? I was the top bitch. I was the one that could have anything she wanted. I was the one that won prom queen. I’m so much bigger and better than you could ever be… Was Eddie just the final nail in the coffin for you?”

Chrissy’s words began to fuzz together. You can’t help but close your eyes to block her barrage further. You finally understood. You got who Chrissy Cunningham really was. It started as a chuckle, but grew into an uncontrollable laugh. When you opened your eyes back up, you were greeted with Chrissy’s confused stare. 

“All this time… you thought I was jealous?” you couldn’t contain the amused giggle that kept escaping. Chrissy’s cheeks grew more flushed and her brows furrowed tighter with every passing second. “Chrissy, why would I ever be jealous of you? The only thing that ever mattered to you was you - a-and your fucking image! Look at the people you left in your wake! Who the fuck do you have left? Heather? Sarah? Where are they now?”

“O-oh please? Like you have fucking Nancy Wheeler? Big deal.” Chrissy’s voice wavered. She could feel her power and influence fading. 

“Yeah, I do. I have lots of people in my corner. But I have myself. I may not feel that fucking fantastic about myself right now, but I know I’m a good person, and I know I deserve love. Do you think that about yourself?”

For the first time tonight, Chrissy was silent. It was only a beat, but it signaled her small defeat - even though she would never admit it to you.

“But, we kissed at the party today. He wants me back, I know it.” She pouted at you. 

“You kissed him at the party. He then turned around and kissed me.” you spat. “I think you should take that hint-”

The words were stolen from your mouth as Chrissy’s hand made contact with your cheek. You felt instant heat on your face and your word felt like it was going to flip completely upside down as your balance was rocked. Shocked tears pricked your eyes as you stared in bewilderment at the girl who you once called your best friend stood there, knees shaking and chest heaving. She looked like she was going to throw up, her flush face now pale. You heard a sweet voice turned hardened highlighted by the dull bass of the club entrance. 

“Back the fuck up, Chrissy!” Nancy barked. Chrissy backed herself against the wall and started to laugh. 

“Get your bitch out of here, Wheeler. I’m fucking done with you both. You and Eddie deserve each other. You’re going to sit and rot here in this stupid town and I’ll be long gone.” Chrissy cried. She shouldered Nancy on the way out. Your chest heaved and you crumbled into the sidewalk, sliding your back down the cement wall of the club. The brunette’s small frame followed you. You sat in silence, only the faint womps of music interrupted the silence. 

“Do you want me to go back in there and kill her?” She peeped. You gave her a hearty laugh. She eyed you carefully before joining in. You leaned your head on Nancy’s bony shoulder and let your shoulders heave. Before long, your shakes of laughter turned into silent sobs. You were so tired, so drunk and so unbelievably confused. 

A blinding pair of headlights approached as the offending vehicle puttered to a stop. Before the lights were fully blinked off, a clump of footsteps could be heard on the concrete. Both you and Nancy and you both shielded your burning eyes, Nancy grabbed your wrist with her free hand and squeezed. A familiar, but not fully welcome tone calls your name. 

“Get up. Let’s go.” The voice was hard, but a sniffle and a sigh book ended his words. You stood slowly, in amazement of the pale face before you. Just a few hours ago, his cheeks were red and his eyes glowed down at you. Now, his skin was dull, his eyes sunken behind puffy bags and a red nose. Your heart broke looking at him. 

“E-Eddie? How did you know where to find me?”

As soon as Eddie had come to and realized you had left, he collapsed in on himself. He couldn’t help the tears that poured past his lash line. He pulled his hands into fists and threw a punch to his door as he burst through it. He flopped his body onto his bed and allowed his shoulders to heave as a sob wracked through him. Once again, he fucking froze. Once again, he let you walk away. Once again, he lost the one person he felt like he couldn’t live without. He felt like time had slowed, that he had simultaneously laid on his bed four hours, but mere moments ago you were in his arms. He cried and screamed until his lungs felt they would collapse and his throat was raw. 

His realization kicked in. You left. Alone. In the dark. With no vehicle and no way of getting home without him. He jolted out of his bed and ran to the door, ripping his keys from the hook on the wall. 

Eddie drove to your house and banged on the door, but there was no answer - all the lights were off and things were too silent for you to be home. He cursed under his breath and ran back to his van. He drove any walking routes he thought you might take: along the sleepy highway, down by Hawkins High or through the middle of town. He saw no signs of you anywhere. It was late. There were no stores open, bars calling last call, street lamps buzzing in a mocking whisper. He shouldn’t have let you go. He kept repeating it in his head and out loud. He shouldn’t have let you go. His silent drive prompted reflection. He had no right to say anything, especially after Chrissy kissed him at Steve’s party literally that night. He should have listened to you. He should have heard what happened. But his stupid insecurities got in the way. He wasn’t good enough for you, he knew that before tonight. But now this had really solidified it for him, you don’t deserve the shitstorm that he has brought to your life. You deserve to be happy, and have friends and have a boyfriend, and as much as he wanted that to be him, he knew that you very well could pick someone else, and he would understand. He mirrored your self-sabotage exactly, you both feeling less than.

Eddie began to grow desperate. If you got hurt - hell if something else happened, he would never forgive himself. He trailed around your favorite hang outs around town and gave up hope. He did have an idea of where else you might have gone. 

The knock on the neat wooden door was loud and frantic. Gareth stumbled to open the door with sleepy eyes and a yawn.

“Dude, what the fuck? It's like 2 am!” Gareth chided. 

“You were asleep?!?” Eddie grabbed at the collar of Gareth’s faded Metallica t-shirt. “You’ve been asleep this whole time?”

“Yeah, man! What the hell! I left Harrington’s shitty party early and fell the fuck asleep. What’s going on?”

With a whimper, Eddie let your name slip through his mouth before bursting into tears again. Gareth wrapped the tall boy into an embrace and shuffled him into his living room. The two boys sat on the couch recalling the events of the night, through sighs and shed tears from both of them.

“Dude, I need to ask you a serious question, and I know you know the answer… I think you just need to fully admit it to yourself.” Eddie looked at Gareth dazed, but sent him a small nod.

“How long have you been in love with her?” Even the thought of loving you sent heat straight to his cheeks. The thought of being able to touch you, to kiss you, like he had at Steve’s party without any reason made his stomach flop. 

“I-” Eddie chewed on his lip. He felt like he had been enamored by you since you first met. When he saw you on stage during his first rehearsal in the theatre, he knew that you were going to be a permanent fixture in his life. But love? That was scary. He didn’t love Chrissy. He hadn’t had a girlfriend before her. His family, other than Wayne, never showed him what love was. It felt like a foreign concept. But the fact that he was sitting on his friend’s couch crying over how worried he was, that was a pretty good sign right?

“I… think it was right before the play went up this year, when I got to spend so much time with her.” Eddie’s voice was quiet. He felt powerless, but not threatened. He was ready to fully give up everything for you now. He was ready to submit to his feelings. 

“Why didn’t you tell her then and break up with Chrissy?” Gareth probed. His questions weren’t pushy. He was truly asking to help Eddie untangle the mess of thoughts woven in his mind. 

“I-I tried to.. When I kissed her - that day in the theatre - I had this silent hope that she was going to just… know. She was just going to understand. She was going to feel all of the things I felt for her and she was going to ask me to leave Chrissy. And I would have, if she asked… but I was so scared of being burned by both of them, I tried to save both… and now look where that has gotten me.” Eddie;s head fell into his hands. Gareth put a reassuring hand on his broad shoulder.

“Eddie, she knew.” Eddie’s face flew from his hands to study the boy’s green eyes across from him. “She’s known all along, but both of you are assholes that are too scared to admit it. But think about it, Ed. She had so much to lose - too much to lose. You needed to make that move, so I am telling you, when we find her, you need to tell her. No more holding back. It’s going to kill the both of you.” 

Eddie now understood why you had gravitated to Gareth so easily. He cared so effortlessly for you, and Eddie now realized how much he had taken Gareth’s friendship for granted. He couldn’t help but wrap the dusty blond boy into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Gare.” Eddie whispered, too scared to speak louder and erupt in tears yet again.

“Yeah, just don’t cry again, dude. I can’t take any more of your crocodile tears.” With a sniffle and a chuckle, the boys broke their embrace. Both of their attentions were grabbed from the living room by a shrill ring of the kitchen telephone. Both boys jumped off the couch and crowded around the receiver. A squeaky voice rang through the phone.

“Gareth??”

“Wheeler? What the hell are you doing calling me at 2:30?” The smaller Wheeler sibling was babbling and gasping for air on the other end of the phone. Your name came up between pants and a mishmosh of words.

“Slow down, Mike. What happened?” Gareth’s eyes were glued to Eddie’s. Eddie was whispering small encouragements to Gareth, pleading to pry any information out of the freshman.

“Nancy just called me from this new club downtown? She-she said that she was with Y/N and that I needed to call you to come get them! I think something happened!” It took Eddie no time to leave Gareth’s side and lunge for his keys. Gareth quickly thanked Mike and hung up the phone.

“Do you think I should come with you, Ed?”

“Nah, Gareth. I gotta do this alone.” Eddie’s face turned cold, stoic, scared. He was worried sick and felt a pang of nausea that Nancy had found you in a club of all places. With a pat on the back, he wished Gareth good night and hopped back into his car, trailing way too fast down the winding roads leading him downtown and into your arms. 

Nancy’s voice snapped the tension between you and Eddie. You felt like a fist was squeezing your heart. You could barely breathe. 

“I-I called Mike to get Gareth to come help.” Nancy looked at the floor, apologetic. You twisted your head to look at her, and you gave her a thankful squeeze on the arm.

“I had gone over to Gareth’s to look for you. I drove to your house and downtown and to the board game cafe… I just couldn’t find you.” Eddie’s voice had softened slightly. You felt the fist on your heart tighten harder. Eddie reached for your limp wrist with a brawny grip. He wasn’t going to let you slip away again. 

“Let’s go please.” His eyes pleaded with you. “Wheeler, do you need me to drop you off?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Johnathan will be here soon, and I might have a bitch to fight,” Her smile was mischievous, but there were flashes of sorrow for you in her eyes. 

“What does she mean?” Eddie flashed you a perturbed stare. Your eyes couldn’t meet his as you whispered Chrissy’s name. That was all you could power out of your rapidly weakening chest. It's all it took for Eddie to roll his eyes and rake his hand over his face. He wished he had the strength to walk into the club, grab her and give her a piece of his mind, but the only thing he had any energy left was to get you home safely, and never leave your side. Eddie pulled you towards his van as you blew a kiss to Nancy and hollered a sweet goodbye.

“Take care of her, Munson. Or I’ll have to kill you.” Nancy dared, her hands crossed over her dainty chest. Eddie offered her a small thank you.

“No, really. I’m a wicked shot.” Both you and Eddie stopped and turned to her in surprise. A small giggle escaped your lips. Nancy waved you both off and sauntered back to the front door that engulfed her in neon dance lights when she opened it. 

Eddie silently opened your door and put your seatbelt on you. Neither of you could meet each other's gaze as Eddie’s strong arms reached across you. He closed the door and you let out a sigh of relief in the moment you had alone in the dark van. Eddie restarted his van and pulled away from the club. The radio was uncharacteristically low, and although Eddie had found you in one piece, he refused to turn it back up. You rode in silence down the streets of your neighborhood. Eddie’s stare would flicker from the dark road to your figure every few seconds. He needed to make sure you were real, that you were actually there with him. You fixed your weak body against the passenger window and glued your stare to the passing trees. The windows of your neighbor’s houses sneered back at you just like Chrissy did. 

“I was worried about you,” Eddie muttered. “You shouldn’t have run off like that.”

As relieved as you were that you were driving further and further away from the club and Chrissy Cunningham, the more confused and angry you grew at the boy who took you away from her. You couldn’t help but let a small chuckle leave your lips. Eddie scoffed back at you.

“You shouldn’t have let me leave in the first place” you hissed. No way. There was no way he was going to be mad at you. You folded your arms over your chest, willing yourself more metaphorical armor to protect your heart from all the conflicting emotions. 

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t have kissed Steve Harrington.” Eddie’s plan was slipping through his fingers. He was panicking, and the only thing he knew how to do when he was panicking, was be mean. 

“You should have never, ever kissed Chrissy Cunningham either, Eddie!” You shouted. Eddie opened his mouth to say something but screwed it shut into a scowl. The silence was deafening. For the first time since you got into his van that night, you looked over at him, your eyes absolutely absorbing him. He wanted to pull the van over and kiss some sense into you, show you that he definitely knew that he was never supposed to have been with her. It was always you. But you had shut down. You had given up on him, like he deserved. He couldn’t handle more heartbreak than he had now. 

The aching silence came to a head as Eddie pulled the old van into your driveway. Without hesitation you reached over for your seatbelt and opened the creaky door. Time slowed down for both of you, both desperate for the other to give in and just stay, to just collapse into the other. But, you were too hurt and Eddie too guarded. Eddie felt his body freeze when you looked at him (for what felt the last time) as you slammed the passenger door closed and trudged to your front door. Your face fell into a frown and tears flowed, for what you hoped would be the last time in a while.

You fumbled in your purse for your house keys. You finally found the small keychain that Eddie had gotten you from Corroded Coffin’s one day trip into Indianapolis to hang flyers, and you couldn’t help but let your shoulders slump more. Eddie’s headlights illuminated the door. You pushed your keys in, but saw a large shadow approaching your door before you could turn the knob. Your glassy eyes panned up to watch Eddie wildly bounding up your porch steps to your door. The vice grip around your heart loosened as Eddie’s face contorted into a frown. There was hope in his eyes, it was small, but you could tell that there was a glimmer. You dropped your hand.

“I have watched you run away too many times. I can’t let you slip away again.” Eddie wept. His hands flew to your cheeks and ran small circles over your skin. He looked expectantly at you, hanging on every move you made. His palms burned into your skin, you could feel his heartbeat like a bass note through an amp; your body absorbed his energy and you couldn’t force yourself to move away, like it would be disturbing all laws of nature if you did.

“Please don’t let me leave again” you breathed. Before you had time to react, Eddie’s mouth was on yours, the place where he truly felt it belonged. All tension you felt in your body melted away and you felt how truly weak you were. Eddie’s arms engulfed you in a wave of warmth - you were home. You willed your lips off of his and peered through your thick lashes. Thick tears trailed down Eddie’s cheekbones. You pushed your door open in a silent invitation. Too scared for his hands to leave your body, his hands slid to your hips and pushed you through the frame into darkness, peppering kisses against your lips. Eddie spun you and the weight of your bodies pressed the door closed.

As soon as you were fully enveloped in the dark quiet of your home, you pulled Eddie closer into you. What once felt so unsteady, like paper floating through the air, was solid. The impact was like an anchor sinking your heart to the bottom of your stomach. Your back pressed against the cool wood of your front door; Eddie stealing your breath made your head spin. The fuzzy feeling the alcohol had given you had long gone, and Eddie’s lips trailing from yours to your collarbone sobered you completely.  Your senses were deprived. The only thing that you could make sense of was the boy in front of you. The only thing your body was responding to was. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

Too close wasn’t close enough and the trails he left across your neck became desperate. Your breath hitched as your hands found purchase in his thick curls. You felt Eddie’s soft moan breathed against your goosebumped skin. His strong hands wrapped themselves around your sides under your sweater. His calloused fingers sent shockwaves through your abdomen. Eddie slotted his leg between yours and pushed himself in closer. As desperate as you were, Eddie was tenfold. He wished that it was possible for the two of you to devour each other and become one. Each blazing kiss he planted to your complexion, he sent a manifesto of how much he cared about you, and how he never dared leave you again. You received his advances openly, pushing your chest into his. Eddie’s mouth traced back up to yours, both of your desperate to tell each other just how much you needed one another without speaking. 

Eddie suddenly pulled his kiss chapped lips away from yours. His chocolate brown eyes bore into yours, he was studying every little detail of your face. His brows furrowed together in melancholy. 

“Eddie, what’s wrong?”

“I… I just… I want to remember everything about this moment, just in case I don’t get to do it ever again.”

“Eddie, why-” The boy cut you off with a small sigh and a quiver of his bottom lip. He pushed himself away from you, now feeling like your body was a black hole, ready to destroy him at whatever cost. You had been drinking. You had to have drinks to kiss him at Steve’s house. The waves of uncertainty washed over him like a tsunami. Your chest tightened at the whiplash, but the boy looked scared. His big eyes were glassy and his cheeks rosy. He chewed lightly at the lips that were just on you. 

“Because I don’t deserve you. And I’m scared you’re going to wake up and think that this was the worst decision of your life.” Eddie’s eyes could barely meet yours. With a quick flash of a self-deprecating smile, his face was trained to the floor. You couldn’t help but wrack out a heartbroken chuckle. 

“You don’t trust me? You don’t believe me when I say that I want you, Eddie? That I want to be with you and that has been the only thing that has occupied my fucking mind since I fucking met you!” you raised your voice. You felt conflicted. What did he need? You kisses weren’t enough, your words weren’t enough. Tears flowed freely again.

“I, just don’t want you to regret this, sweetheart. I wouldn’t fucking choose me if I were you…”

“God fucking damn it, Eddie! Why can’t you just listen to me!?” Eddie’s jaw clenched at your scolds. 

“Don’t fucking yell at me! Last time I checked, I should be the one that’s mad! You worried me sick! I ran around the whole city looking for you, and I didn’t care if you were falling back into someone else’s arms, I just needed to know that you were okay because I lo-”

“The only reason I god damn ran away is because I couldn’t stand you shoving me out! I couldn’t handle your rejection yet again because I fucking love you-” The words flew out of your mouth like the tears on your cheeks. All the noise of the two of you yelling ceased and it was your turn to stare holes into the floor. The room felt like it had shrunk 10 times smaller and the temperature rose. Your cheeks were on fire, and you couldn’t felt your fingertips. As long as you had felt this way for Eddie, you were always too afraid to admit it out loud. Even though Gareth had probed you about your feelings, you didn’t dare say it out loud to him - or to anyone. Feelings were too scary. Compartmentalizing your feelings felt easier. But now, everything had changed because you loved Eddie Munson and you told him and now he stood in front of you saying nothing. 

“Please don’t joke like that…” His voice was small. You flicked your eyes to see his figure taking cautious steps towards you. “I can’t take it if you don’t mean that.”

A simple whisper of his name let him know that you were serious. You began to shake as you felt the uncontrollable angst and relief of letting your feelings out. 

You loved Eddie Munson, and you always would love Eddie Munson. 

“Can you say it again, please?” For the first time, you heard the flamboyant, loud, exuberant person before you speak timidly. You looked to his pleading eyes and they gave you the courage you didn’t think you had.

“I…. I love you, Eddie. I think I have for quite a while.” You sobbed. 

Eddie said nothing, but took your hand and pulled you into him. The moonlight illuminated his pale face that twisted into a small smile. He pulled you in for a kiss so saccharine sweet, you felt that you were going to get a stomach ache. His hands cradled your face like you were made of porcelain. He pulled away from you and rested his forehead on yours. Your hands mirrored his, longing to feel the apples of his cheeks pressed up in a smile. Silently, he led you up the stairs to your room, and pulled your sweater off your shaking body. He followed with his own shirt and pants. You slid your skirt and tights down your body. The two of you stood silently, raking in each other’s bodies. Eddie sat himself down on the bed and pulled your hands so you stood between his legs. His hands rested on your hips and yours on his shoulders. You leaned yourself down to press your lips to his again, needing another reminder that you, in fact, weren’t dreaming and that Eddie was going to stay. The metal head guided your hips so you were straddled over his lap and leaned back with an oof, so you were both lying horizontally on your bed. You both let out a small, nervous giggle. Your lips worked their way back to his’, tongues lazily snaking in and out of mouths, hands tracing new skin that hadn’t been seen before. 

Eddie guided the two of you to your pillows, never allowing more than a moment of your lips being apart from his. His body had felt the most relaxed in a long time. Your touches sent fire through his nerves. You whimpered into Eddie’s mouth and he pulled away from you. 

“I don’t think we should tonight, sweetheart.” Eddie whispered into you. “We’ve both had a long day, maybe we need to take the night to think about things.” Your face twisted into concern at the beautiful boy under you. He noticed your worry and flipped you over so he was on his side leaning over you. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I always have”

Eddie spent the next hour with you breathing heavily against his chest, falling asleep almost immediately after he had invited you to lay on him.

Eddie, for the second time, would not get any sleep staying with you in your bed; but this time, the rogue tears that fell were full of adoration, and he whispered small ‘I love you’s at your dozing figure. 

Eddie was happy if he never slept again, as long as his nights all consisted of this.

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Also, Steve Harrington fic ideas in the works! Stay tuned!

[hdmiports]

i lay in a dark room and smoke my e-cigarette

molly: carls, did you finish the science project?

carlie: nah, i was... busy

m: oh come on! you couldn't possibly have been so busy to not prioritize your education! i thought i taught you better, carlie.

c: molly please... its 8 am

m: and?

wolfgang: get a room you two

[leslieseveride]

[saintlesbian]

I was hoping for Carly’s consequences era but it’s looking like she’s getting forgiven already 😞 ofc joss would forgive her bc they’re basically the same person and joss is going through her own little messy lying arc. michael’s already giving up his grudge after like. One conversation even tho her choices put his wife’s life in danger. drew was mad for like two episodes only to come to Carly’s side anyways and then we haven’t seen him since. even though she directly impeded on his investigation and betrayed his trust when they’re supposed to be partners???? and WILLOW. the one this directly impacts. the one who was looking for her real mother for her health and for her family. almost immediately forgives Carly???? she withheld knowledge of the rest of her family from her! shits unethical bro!!

and somehow in all of this they’ve still found a way to vilify Nina even tho this is now the second child Carly has kept from her??? like. it’s not Nina’s fault she had her daughters stolen. it’s not Nina’s fault that she’s willow’s mother. in fact the only other people to get mad at Carly were nina and Sonny and even then Nina’s still already kinda moved past it after that convo with Liesl??? why does this keep happeninggggg

revenge or not, regardless of her intentions Carly still did harm. and I really really want to like her character but the only way that’s ever gonna happen is if she faces real palpable consequences for her harmful actions and learns from them. she needs to grow and change as a person 😭

[eldritch-nightmare]

Let’s gooOO, MY HUSBAND BO IS COMING SOON HAHA

HGFJKDGF HELL YEAH !!