#eddie is also thrilled by their first curse words | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chaptersleftunwritten · 3 months ago

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Cue the beat drop

Blurb: After Eddie goes missing, assumed dead, you replace him as lead guitarist and singer of Corroded Coffin.

Pairing: Vampire!Eddie Munson x Stranger!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of grief and death, mentions of trauma, mean-ish!Eddie, blood(?), possibly an inaccurate attempt at description of Kas from D&D. Fictional Corroded Coffin songs.

Trauma permanently alters the brain, and whether or not we are willing to admit it, it changes our lives and who we are. We never really get over it, at best we can make peace with it- grieve with it and try to put it to rest. But a large life disruption leaves a new normal behind and there is no returning to who we were before. Before this.

It had taken Gareth and Jeff two and a half years to muster up enough courage to paper up flyers all over town- every window, sign post and street lamp had one stuck and stapled to it. They were looking for their new lead guitarist and vocalist for Corroded Coffin- a legacy that Eddie Munson had left behind.

Being new to Hawkin’s came with a profound sense of oblivion. You were unaware of the history and all you knew were the rumours of what had happened a few years prior to your arrival in the cursed town. Words twisted and whispered from ear to ear. Elderly ladies clutching their Holy jewellery as they walk through the streets, mumbling prayers beneath their breaths. It was unsettling, to say the least. Oddly, though, there was something about Hawkin’s that called to you. A dark beckoning leading you from one place to here. Where you’ll remain.

‘Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.’ Friedrich W. Nietzsche

When you first read that quote, you never understood it. Not then. Not until you actually saw him. The abyss… staring back at you.

Corroded Coffin had soared in popularity. One of their singles, It Only Takes Six Feet, ended up on the Hot Top 100 billboard in the whole of America, sitting at #86 on the list. It was a song dedicated to Eddie, written by all of the members of the band. Of course you did most of the edits and redrafts but it was made by you all. For him. For the man who started it all.

After the stats came in, and the fans followed like metal headed soldiers, the rest was history. Corroded Coffin had its own army of ‘devil worshippers’ and their songs were playing across America on radios, stereos and TV’s alike.

It led you to here. Centre stage with blinding lights blurring your vision. Your lilac guitar slung over your shoulders securely, your hands supporting the weight. The audience is a single organism of moving, reeling silhouettes, who are screaming lyrics wildly back at you. The feeling is intoxicating. The way your voice echoes on the speakers, or how your body glistens and glitters with sweat and even the confidence radiating from your choice in outfit. Tonight felt electric. Everyone was paying attention to you…

You narrowed it down to it just being a really great gig, but things hadn’t been this good since you left Hawkin’s for a small out of state tour. Being back in the bands origin town created an atmosphere that was.. unearthly. Something darker and deeper than you could never comprehend.

Eddie really just couldn’t believe it. Hearing his own lyrics leave your precious little mouth. It seemed wrong- it was wrong.

He watched you with intent from the back of the concert hall, blending in with the shadows cast upon him as he hugged the walls.

No one paid him any mind, he was purposely invisible- seeking out your attention and yours alone. His eyes glow, flickering like a faulty light bulb between a thrilling onyx and a fierce maroon. He wanted you to clock him. To seek him out in the crowd. You and Eddie had never had the pleasure of meeting and Eddie planned to change that. After all, you deserved to know who you were singing about, right?

The fans adored you, and because of your reputation, your angelic voice and your looks- you invited in a wider spread of demographic. You expanded the band without changing a thing and it made you feel accomplished. You were proud of what you contributed and so was Gareth and Jeff.

It made Eddie giggle demonically to himself so see a photograph of him taped to Gareth's drum set. It was a decent picture to say the least, however he couldn't help but wonder why they were paying him so much tribute. Was it some sick and twisted way to promote the band and get more media coverage? Or were they really just as pathetic as he thought and still missed him.

Eddie preferred the 'sick and twisted.'

The hall falls eerily dormant to you as there is a brief pause between songs. The audience remain enthralled but their screams are drowned out but a high pitched ring in your ear. At first, you thought it was mic interference. You never understood it. Not until you actually saw him. The abyss... staring back at you.

Staring into you.

Despite being beneath the sweltering stage lights, your skin coats in an unavoidable freezing spread of goosebumps. Your breathing staggers outwith your control and your head blazes with fog. You can hear Gareth trying to speak to you from behind but you're bolted to the spot, your eyelids fluttering in sync with your heart which you are now suddenly over aware of thundering inside of your chest.

You move a hand to where it beats beneath the skin, clutching at the fabric of your sheer pink blouse as you fight the urge to collapse- but unfortunately for you, your efforts go to waste. Eddie made sure of that.

You come to a small flashlight being shone in your eyes and a worried paramedic frowning at you.

“She’s awake!” Gareth yells over to Jeff and both of them appear in your line of vision, they are a bit distorted figure wise but you recognise them nonetheless.

“You’re backstage. You’re in your dressing room, can you tell me which town you are in?” The paramedics voice feels like it is a thumping base inside of your head and you wince inwardly to yourself. Gulping thickly before you reply.

“Hawkins.” You bark rather harshly, your throat dry, “Water? Please?” Gareth nods and both him and Jeff leave the room to go grab you a refreshment. Trust those two to make a one person job into a two person job.

“You’ll be alright, it was probably dehydration.” With a click of a button the flashlight turns off and it is placed back in the medics equipment bag, “I’d recommend taking it easy for the rest of the night- but I know you young ones don’t really listen to anyone these days… so take some pain medication and drink some bloody water, please.” With a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders he exits the room, heaving a sigh and leaving you to recollect your fractured thoughts.

What the Hell happened?

“You collapsed. Is what happened, love.” His voice comes from behind you, a hissing in your ear like a serpents tongue. Which seems impossible because you are situated on a sofa which is pressed against a wall. Logically, no one should be able to get behind you.

Whipping your head over your shoulders frantically, your eyes shot wide with terror as you search the room, only for your gaze to land on him cackling in front of you evilly. The tiredness has been shaken from your bones and the adrenaline flooding your bloodstream is enough for you to jump and go straight through the ceiling.

You know him. You know this man.

“Boo?” He remarks with a sinister grin.

You always thought, when put in these situations, that your trigger response would be fight or flight.. but you are frozen as cold as ice, to the spot.

“This is the part where you try to run away but I ultimately catch you.” His voice is strained, like he is longing for a drink of water, “Cat and mouse, my favourite game.” His large hand finds his chest in a sentimental gesture, “Usually it would warm my heart- but I don’t have one anymore.”

Not anymore? Confusion wraps a noose around your mind. What is he talking about? And why does he look so familiar and yet so alien?

Noticing your rigid unmoving frame Eddie frowns mockingly, “Awh,” He starts with a coo, “You’re no fun.” His bottom lip pokes out before he is biting back a smile. Flashing what you can almost pinpoint as fangs…

“I recognise you…” Your weak voice sounds pathetic as it leaves your throat in the form of a gulp- starting strong and then fizzling out into a whisper. Eddie cocks a brow, his hawk like eyes narrowing in on you.

“I’d like to hope so, sweetheart, considering you were just singing my lyrics.” He leans against your vanity mirror, crossing his strong arms against his chest, not having a single care for any of the products he has just swiped off of the desk.

“Eddie?” Your eyebrows knit together tightly on your face, eyes pinching as you shake your head, “I must be hallucinating. This isn’t real.” You let out a breathy laugh, bringing your palm to your face where you run it down your skin semi-aggressively.

“I must’ve hit my head hard!” You continue to laugh, your mind reeling. Eddie stares at you- a mix of amusement and impatience dominating his features.

“That’s adorable.” He pushes himself from the vanity mirror and within seconds he is in front of you, pinning you down onto the worn leather of the decades old sofa, “I don’t know if I should find you cute or annoying.” His fingers grip your face with a punishingly tight force and you squirm beneath him, fear replacing every one of your comedic thoughts.

“Please,” you squeak out, hoping there is some humanity left inside of him. But you would be wrong to assume, “Eddie, please…”

Your feeble attempts make him snicker beneath his breath, his grip only worsening on your cheeks, “This isn’t a dream, baby. I’m real, I’m here- I may not be alive… but I bet this pain feels pretty human to you, doesn’t it?” He quirks his head slightly, like a psychotic interested dog and you wince, your fingers clawing desperately at his wrist to try and get him to ease up, “It’s a shame that you might have bruises left on this pretty face of yours. I can see why Gareth chose you.” His chest rises and falls with more distorted laughter, “Poor lad, he so clearly wants to fuck you… but you don’t want him, do you?”

The dark sounds of his strangled cackle fills the room, you can hardly breathe with his weight on top of you. He is too strong, so unwavering. It makes you question..

What is he?

“You’ve replaced me.” He clicks his tongue, evidentially displeased, “You replaced me- and you hadn’t even met me.” He brings his face dangerously close to yours, your breathing is erratic and uncontrollable and only now are you able to really hone in on his appearance.

His eyes are blown to an impure murky shade of black and his lips are crusted ever so slightly with a tinged shade of red. Spider web like veins have crept themselves up his neck and arms- the hue of them being a deep purple… almost like the veins are dead- void of any blood at all.

“That’s it, baby, take it all in.” His pointed tongue sticks out, the muscle meets your face as he licks a long strip from your cheek to the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t noticed the tears streaming down your face, but Eddie was relishing in the saltiness of the liquid, “Tastes good, but not really what I’m gunning for.”

His obsidian eyes settle on your neck and you can feel your pulse quickening. Your legs have entered the equation as you start to thrash more violently against him, coming up short.

“Eddie stop! Please! Please!” You’re wailing now, screaming for your life and it irks Eddie beyond description. Violently he lets go of your face, only to clamp his hand steadily across your mouth.

“Those aren’t the type of begs I want to hear, gorgeous.” Your fists pound against his hollow chest and he brushes your attempts at self defence off like it is nothing. He even fake yawns at your bratty behaviour.

“You sounded so pretty up there on stage, I just had to meet you. That’s why you had that little dizzy spell.. that was me, you following along?” He sniffs at your hair, his nose tickling down to the shell of your ear, “Call me obsessed- but I might be your biggest fan.”

Heaven opens the floodgates to your eyes and you are a quivering, sobbing mess beneath Eddie. Your limbs are much too tired to fight against him and you can see your demise approaching.

“I’m not going to kill you,” He answers your thoughts, almost like he can hear you think, “I’m just so fucking hungry.” Craning your neck off to one side Eddie nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his nose poking and prodding at your skin- right above your main artery, “I also want my position back as lead guitarist.” His voice is much gentler now, a breathy whisper against your flesh, “I’m sure we can find room for you somewhere though, hmm?” You can tell that his words have a demented double meaning and you muster up enough energy to try and push him off again.

Your limbs feel like jello, weak and boneless. Eddie feels as though he is made of steel. Weighty with effortless leverage against you. Your eyelids feel fluttery as you look at the dressing room door- hoping Gareth and Jeff are just outside.

You can see shadowy figures dancing beneath the crack in the door and you mumble out a cry from beneath Eddie’s palm, “They won’t be able to help you.” His words are punctured by his teeth piercing your skin- harshly but with surgeon like precision.

Fire scorches your blood at the contact and your eyes shoot open with furious panic. You can’t scream against his hand, but you try. Choking out sobs and knocking at Eddie’s body. He doesn’t give, if anything he sucks at your neck harder, growling lowly into your ear. All you know is pain, it’s all you know- no more fear, no more terror. Just pain. Agonising. Paralysing… and then..

Nothing. You go numb. Your body falls limp against the cushions, the hard wooden beam running through the sofa presses against your spine in an almost relieving way and you let out a large sigh through flared nostrils.

Eddie finishes with you, unhooking his talon like teeth from your veins and studying your expression closely, “You might feel a bit lightheaded, but you’ll be okay.” His fingers stroke against your cheek which is aching from his previous grasp, “You look so pretty… so exhausted.” With a clasped hand he strokes your hair back and away from your face, only to grasp it roughly and pull you up from the leather material which now has a very prominent outline of your body wedged into. You yelp out, your hands flying to the back of your head where you grab his wrist.

“Now go and open that door, and tell them we were having a quickie… maybe I’ll reward you later if you’re good.” With a knowing wink he pushes you away from him brutishly, slapping your ass and laughing as he watches you move on wobbly legs toward the dressing room door. You don’t understand why, but you listen to him. His voice is like music to your ears- and you’d do anything to hear him speak to you again.

And being the good, obedient, brainwashed girl that you are- you open the door to Jeff and Gareth, looking like your world just got rocked.

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers

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cloveroctobers · 8 months ago

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SHOW YOU WHY — EVAN “BUCK” BUCKLEY x READER x 118: [Spring Prompts]

A/N: I’m excited to see what the rest of season 7 brings us! This piece can fit for both Buck (since there’s some hints of a crush between reader + Buck—if you squint!) and the rest of the 118. I’m just thrilled to see them all back on screen so I wanted to include everyone in this.

WARNINGS: gave the gender-neutral reader some background & mentions of a tough upbringing + use of curse words!!!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: 3. “Welcome to ~allergies~” + 20. “IT’S SPRINGTIME MUTHA-FUCKERS.”

<- read my previous flop of a spring prompt here.

𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼

Anywhere but here you wanted to be.

You could have gotten out of this too, just like the mayor’s ball back in December but you personally didn’t want to receive an ear-full of a voicemail from your aunt yet again. So you dealt with it (being here on time-except you actually weren’t in your aunt’s eyes) putting in the work to also give “orders” rather than instructions to the workers while she had other hired workers tend to her full attire.

She won a honorary award just last month so she planned on parading that around her birthday party. It wasn’t the smartest move having it right at the entry way of the home, sitting on the center piece of a circular oak table that her great-grandfather built, with party goers but since the spring weather decided to stick in California, your aunt was more than willing to have this gathering out back but not without having most of her guests walk through the front doors first.

The main reason to have this party was for the attendees to constantly compliment the view of the vineyard out back. You already knew your aunt’s (by marriage) game, having the honor of being raised by her from the time you were thirteen. You just wished you could close your eyes, squeeze them really tight to the point that they hurt, and this would be over.

Thankfully an hour into the party, your uncle shows up, rushing in from his work trip out in Finland—don’t ask—brushing his lips against your hairline and giving you a tight side hug before he’s whisked off by his high energy wife of twenty years. That gave you enough time to sneak away from the boring and prying conversations, the set up of trying to date one of the attendees, and hide for a little bit before your cover was blown and you were thrown back into the party of socializing.

Another forty-five minutes pass and you’re getting a text that has you jumping to your feet, swaying a bit before you excuse yourself back into the mediterranean home to greet the guests you’ve been waiting for.

Yanking the door open you yell, “IT’s SPRING TIME MUTHA-FUCKERS! Welcome to my family’s place and I’m so glad you guys could make it.”

Chimney smirks around the chewing of his gum, “can’t say I’ve been greeted like that ever but I’m not complaining! as long as I get to have whatever it is you’ve had.”

You tilt your head to the side at the spikey haired man, “Chim! How many times do I have to tell ya? I’m not a drinker…I’m just spreading all things…spring?”

“I can tell with that outfit.”

A elbow goes to his gut from Maddie while Hen scoffs with a shake of her head at her best friend, who’s now rubbing his torso.

You’re waving the group all in, hugging Athena as she says, “your family has a mighty big house.”

“Yeah, I was just about to say what did they do again?” Eddie is next in embracing you after almost doing a full spin in the entry way, staring up at the high ceilings.

Buck is last to pull you into a hug, lightly rocking you both from side to side while you hold his back, “Can’t believe you grew up here.”

You shrug, “It’s just a house of an Architect and a mayor.”

“You must have had crazy parties here,” Buck is grinning wildly while Eddie is rolling his eyes at him.

“Of course Evan would be the one to think about the parties,” Maddie stares over at her younger brother who’s shameless about his daydreams of what that may have looked like.

You lifted your shoulders, “anyways! Make yourselves comfy but stay away from the Rueger’s—they’re swingers and may try to encourage you into joining their underground society club. A good portion of the people here are uppity but there’s a sprinkle of good ones that you won’t want to kick up the ass.”

“Oh! Say no more, I know exactly who I’m talking to.” Athena shoots a look to Bobby who’s pleading with his eyes to his wife, to just enjoy the party and not interrogate but Athena wouldn’t be Athena if she didn’t go investigate.

Bobby squeezes your shoulder on his way by but keeps his eyes on Athena’s retreating form, “Its good to see you and thanks for the invitation. I’m going to do my best and make sure things don’t erupt into chaos.”

You nod your head, expecting this but let out a sigh although there’s a smile on your lips. Hen takes a step closer to you as you’re now humming, swaying your hands about as if they were floating on water. “Uh, you sure you’re alright? You seem…a little off?”

“What do you mean?” You question, hands moving to float above Hen’s shoulders, almost as if you’re not aware you’re doing this.

This gains the other’s attention as the low haired woman peeks from left to right while you’re making a wave with your hands. “Stop that and hold still.”

“Why? The air never does.”

Which earns a chuckle from Chimney while Hen grips your shoulders, scanning your face and finally focuses on the end of your brow to the lid of your eye.

“Hen, what’s up?” Buck quizzes, eyes steady on you two.

Hen shushes him while she keeps her eyes on you, “how many fingers am I holding up?”

You blink then smile, “two caterpillars,” you speak so matter of factly, ready to spin away from the conversation but Hen is pulling you back by the shoulders.

“Hen—

Chimney tries this time and Maddie is furrowing her brows also confused.

“I think they’re having an allergic reaction.” Hen concludes before directing the rest of her words to you, “your eye area is swelling up and if you didn’t take anything, I’d say you’re also a little disoriented? Maybe even experiencing some brain fog?”

You shrug, “must have been the sea bass or was it trout? that Eitan guy tried to share with me. Whatever, let’s have some fun now that my friends are here.”

You’re dancing now, although it feels like your brain is spinning in slow-motion, yet the outside music is pretty faint.

Buck has his eyes in slits, “who the hell is Eitan?”

“And why was he feeding you?” Eddie added, he didn’t hear any updates about your dating life either and he was sure if it was true, Buck would have been the first to tell him instead.

Maddie stares at the two ridiculous men, “they didn’t say the guy was feeding them.”

Chimney leans towards Hen as her face still holds concern, fingertips lightly pressing on the lymph nodes in your neck which you laugh at the sensation, “Want me to search the house to see what I can find? You don’t think they’re going to stop breathing any time soon do you?”

The way Buck and Eddie snap their attention to the dark haired man’s words; burning their eyes into his frame, makes Chimney realize that it doesn’t hurt to turn down his bluntness some but Hen thinks nothing of it.

“How!” Maddie hisses his name from behind, while Chim holds his hands up to show he has no ill-intent, you were his friend too.

Hen starts, “I don’t think they consumed enough to get to that point but—

“Hey, aren’t you allergic to all things seafood anyway? Why would that jackass give that to you?” Buck interrupts with a cross of his arms, becoming irritated.

Eddie also states, “and why would your tío and tía have that here? Surely they know your health history.”

Maddie also can’t help but to ask in a much more compassionate approach, “How exactly did this happen?”

“I got caught up in the love story Eitan’s ninety year old grandmother was telling me on the right about the love letters she received from her husband in the navy. Eitan’s calling my name from the left to try this and next thing I know, I’m eating fish.” You notify, hoping that answered this test.

Buck scrunches up his nose, “who does this guy think he is? Just spoon feeding you without even knowing your likes, dislikes, and what you can’t have!”

Eddie asserts in agreement as Buck begins to pace now, “I’m sorry but your relatives screwed up.”

“The Tramp too.” Chimney jokes.

You tilt your head to the side while Hen glares and Maddie raises her eyebrows, wanting the man to expand on that.

“Hello! Lady and the tramp anyone? This Eitan guy is obviously the tramp—not your aunt.” Chimney sheepishly smiles, “whew, tough crowd!”

Hen is back to massaging your neck in search of any inflammation while you rant, “Well as auntie Katrina says: you can’t please everyone and sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get to the top. She probably just forgot with all the things on her mind? she was the main one trying to push a love connection between Eitan and I. Also you guys should have seen her earlier. She was all over the place and had to have me take over.” You pull away, coughing into your sleeve, struggling a bit to clear your throat.

The five glance at each other.

You were part of the 118, first somewhat reserved and a little shy rather than closed off but similar to Bobby in a sense when you first joined. It took time to get you to open up, even to Buck who was friendly with everyone. You transferred to the station six months after Buck so he had no issue taking you underneath his wing even if you were complete opposites. It was safe to say that majority of the crew didn’t care for your aunt, simply from the way she spoke to you, and hearing how you tried to sweep the way she treated you growing up away. It was evident verbal abuse but you felt like you owed her something since she stepped in as a mother figure to raise you after the tragedy of losing your own mother.

Part of you knew you shouldn’t feel guilty and that she was the adult who married your biological uncle who was always away—working and that it should have been a given. However when people make you feel like they’re doing you a favor instead of simply caring about you, you just may start to question everything.

Unfortunately, you were the second guesser because of that but not when it came to the field. You became a different person out on the job, quickly thinking and analyzing everything before sprinting into action and that was something the 118 admired.

Maddie and Eddie both share a nod before she speaks, “okay…Eddie and I are going to have a chat with this Eitan guy.”

Buck approved of that although he wouldn’t have minded having a word with Eitan himself, especially if they were all thinking the same thing. Once his eyes flicked back to you after the pair left the room, he noticed the change in your skin gradually and that didn’t sit well with him. So yeah, maybe it was best he stayed behind.

Hen asks you, “Do you have your EpiPen?”

You’re zoning out a bit, eyes disconnecting some but you’re nodding your head as if you’re listening.

So Hen took that as a negative.

“Chim, check the bathrooms for Prednisone or any type of corticosteroid? Even Peppermint oil. If not, try the kitchen for pineapple or even ice just in case.” Hen informs while Chim dips his head before heading off.

Hen smiles as she gently guides you to the stairs which are to the right of the front door, “here, let’s have you sit.”

“But I want to dance!”

“We can do that later,” Buck expresses while following you two, “we just want to make sure you’re okay first and that there’s no funny business going on here.”

Pressing your cheek into your balled up fist you say, “fine…I’ll tell you guys what going on. I’ll come clean.”

Hen and Buck meet each other’s eyes before they peer down at you. Sitting up straight, you exhale and begin to flap your arms like wings, “welcome to…allergies.”

Buck honestly found this a little cute although he didn’t appreciate the increase in size of your brow and eye now but at least you were in good spirits. Even if it seemed like the rest of the 118 were speculating something much more than a simple case of allergies.

“I’m going to move things further along and find the kitchen. Buck, Call out to me if anything changes.” Hen decides before making her exit.

He calls out to her, “You got it.” Then he’s turning back to stand in front of you while you beam up at him, “what’s going on in that field full of daisies of a mind of yours?”

“It’s actually Lillie’s but,” you clear the scratch of your throat again, “I don’t know, I felt kinda anxious being back here but knew I would be okay once you were the first to agree on showing up.”

Buck furrows his brow at the last bit of the sentence, “did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Well…you’ve been busy with Natalia.” You’re blinking your inflamed eye to see if it was tingly or sticky, “Didn’t want to intrude on your quality time.”

“You wouldn’t be, you’re actually one of my best friends and it’s always cool for us to hang out whenever,” Buck replies, “by the way that relationship is over with…and you’ve got that same look on your face as Eddie.”

You actually imagined yourself to look like that one Ryan Gosling gif but only because you were the last to know.

You breathe out a laugh afterwards, “Sheesh! I’m not going to say finally or I told you so because she was super pretty and helped you pick out a couch which was nice and…are you okay?”

Buck chuckles at your mind still wandering all over the place in conversations, “the couch and I are just fine! Thanks for asking.”

You hum, resting your head against the wall.

“So what’s this Eitan guy like?” Buck suddenly probes.

You blink, “think: tall dark and handsome.”

Buck blurts out with a furrow of his brows, “Sasquatch?”

“…if that’s what you’re into.” Laughter bubbles in your voice at the expression on Buck’s face now.

He holds his hands out, “I’m not even going to entertain that.”

“Aw but it’ll be fun.”

Buck plops down beside you, almost taking up a good portion of the uncomfortable steps. He brushes his shoulder against yours and you meet each other’s gaze.

“I’ve missed you, you know?”

Those words right there almost wiped all weird feelings you were having before and after you ate that food. You were never one to think that anyone noticed if you were around or not so hearing Buck say this to you, made you feel warm inside—better even. Somewhat.

“You taking off for a while made sense,” Buck starts with an exhale, “but I didn’t think that time away included spending it with your aunt Kat.”

Buck didn’t hide his dislike of the older woman but out of the respect he had for you, he kept his feelings to himself yet that didn’t mean he didn’t go off about her to Eddie or Maddie when she clearly upset you.

“…Majority of it didn’t.” You answer.

“Where did you go?”

You pointed as if you were mapping it out in the air, “Chicago, then Texas, and back here.”

“…Do I need to know how that was?” he’s pressing his elbows into his knees, getting comfortable right beside you.

He’s told you all about his adventures across the globe, mostly unwarranted but you didn’t mind. You had a sheltered life while your aunt and uncle went all over to see the world thanks to their professions, so you didn’t get out much until you decided to head to the first state you had the deepest connection to. Where your late mother and uncle were born and raised and ultimately where your mother’s life ended.

“All you need to know is that it brought me back home, to the rest of you.”

“Can’t say I don’t like the sound of that.”

You loop an arm with Buck’s and rest your head on his shoulder, “look at us sitting here being nice to each other with our matching marks.”

“I’m always nice and I think mine is cooler.” He says referring to his own strawberry birthmark.

You nuzzle your face against his navy sweater, “You stating your claim on yours being better really defeats the purpose of you being nice.”

“Well, I mean no harm buuut yours is temporary and reminds me of hippo skin.” He’s leaning away, eyes lowered to get a good look at your face up close.

“…Now I see why you and Natalia broke up.”

If chimney was back, you were sure he’d give you some points for roasting Buck back.

“Ouch.” Buck laughs, resting his cheek against your head.

You echo his laugh, “sorry.”

“Don’t be. I can take a joke and Isn’t this season supposed to be about new beginnings or growth or whatever?” Buck was always interested to see the layers of you.

You gasp, “I thought it was the season of allergies.”

Evan hums, “Is that the story you’re sticking with?”

Before you could reply to that Eddie cuts in, “the story actually checks out…you did in fact ingest some sea bass from the nerdy but surprising good looking Eitan. The fish was a little on the salty side so I see why you only had a small piece.”

“A small piece that was enough to have their face looking like hippo skin!” Buck held his hand out underneath your chin to showcase.

Eddie scrunched up his face after taking a look at yours while you slapped the dark blond on his chest, “why would you choose to compare their allergic reaction to that of all things?”

“Why would you give your critiques of a dish you probably don’t even know how to cook?” Buck fired back.

Before they started to bicker, Maddie claps her hands to silence the two men-children and then turns to you with a soft smile, “Eitan also wanted to come over here and apologize but I told him it would best to just wait it out for awhile.”

“Thanks Maddie.” You smile back at the brunette, preferring to be around your friends instead.

“That’s the smartest thing he’s done today.” Buck huffs while Maddie sends him a warning look, to basically knock it off.

Eventually Hen and Chim make their way back but only Hen has items in her hands.

Chim holds his hands out as he exasperates, “you would think people who have a house filled with eight bathrooms would have basic medicine in their cabinets…it’s odd that the only thing I could find was Omeprazole. And Not even a damn Advil!”

“Okay let’s not turn this into the ID channel guys, I’m alive and well—

“Well…” almost everyone chorus’ in making you equally send them an incredulous look.

Hen is the one to not have chimed in but chooses to squats in front of you, “Eat this and keep this pressed to your face for at least five to seven minutes.”

“Thank you, Hen.”

“No problem,” she smiles before standing up and looking at the rest, “now go mingle everyone instead of being up in their face, I’m sure they’ll be in good hands with Buck—maybe.”

“Hey!”

Hen winks at him before she walks off with Maddie and Chimney who starts talking about the appetizers he noticed by the patio door.

“Marisol’s calling,” Eddie looks down at his phone, “I trust that I can leave two alone for a few minutes.”

Buck shrugs nonchalantly, “That depends—

“Of course you can.” You side eye the man beside you underneath the ice pack.

Eddie snickers before disappearing behind the sliding doors to a room across from the stairs.

Buck’s breathing beside you makes you more calm until he deeply exhales, clearing his throat while you chew on a pineapple as he turns his body to you.

“So why come back?” His island water eyes holds your stare, lightly pushing since you still had time to get the inflammation to go down.

So what better way to wait it out by talking?

Swallowing the fruit you boldly respond, “you would think I took a year off instead of two weeks but…I’d miss you too much. Is that a good enough answer for you Buckley?”

Evan grins as he bumps his shoulder with yours again, “yeah it is! I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You noticed the change of tone in his voice beside you and fought the urge to shudder at it. So you scoff and push yourself off the steps, plate of pineapple long forgotten as you balanced yourself upright while Buck’s got his hands out to catch you if you fall.

The feeling was always mutual, lifting each other up and going through the motions together as a team.

“Since you’re so full of yourself, let’s battle it out on the dance floor.”

Buck frowns as he glances down at his wrist, “I think you still have another three minutes and thirty-nine seconds left to go…and they’re playing jazz.”

“What’s wrong with that? Would you rather hear The White Stripes or Backstreet Boys…I could make a request if you like?” You teased while Buck pushes himself to his feet.

He blows out a breath, “I tell you one time that Maddie and I had a jam session to that boy band on my sixteenth birthday road-trip to cheer me up and you won’t let it go.”

“I’m not shaming you.” You raise a hand in surrender, “I’m no hater and the band had hits. I don’t care who you are, where you’re from, what you did, as long as you love me—it’s all good.”

Buck rolls his head around, “you’re so clever and you don’t have to worry about that so! Let’s just start off with you finishing the rest of those pineapples and I’ll try one of those appetizers before you show me some moves but I don’t think they have anything on mine.”

“Please! I’ll be very shocked to see you do more than a two-step since you also hate karaoke.”

“I don’t hate it.” Buck picks up the plate for you, “I just prefer not to see my sister and Chimney eat their microphones singing while staring into each others eyes.”

“They’re in love Buck, leave them alone!”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy they found each other. I am their number one fan but that’s still my sister and I don’t need to see more than needed on their love life.” He shudders.

You hook your arm with Buck’s as you begin to walk through the home towards the kitchen, “yeah I guess I get that, yet there’s something so special about seeing people in love! It always shows me why there’s still the urge to keep going, just like us running into fires. Not to just simply put it out but to have a sense of unity when that’s not always common.”

Buck is intently listening and whole heartedly agrees as the both of you settle into the kitchen. He enjoys having conversations with you and you enjoy keeping him company, although he came all this way for you.

Showing up for each other was never foreign but it was times like these, swollen eyed and slightly loopy while the game of politics were being played out in the vineyard, wide grins and random conversations were held inside between the two of you—later joined by the rest of the team—showed that you were surrounded by exactly who you needed to be with.

𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼ 𓇼☾☼𓇼☾☼

Continue with my spring anthology prompts here.

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #911 x reader #911 s7 #911 season 7 #howard chimney han #howard han #chimney han #maddie buckley #maddie han #athena nash #athena grant #athena grant nash #eddie diaz #bobby nash #henrietta wilson #spring prompts #queued

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strangermarvelss · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 2,298 times in 2022

That's 2,210 more posts than 2021!

1,352 posts created (59%)

946 posts reblogged (41%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@strangermarvelss

@boss

@jadeylovesmarvelxo

@thisishellfire

@littledemondani

I tagged 1,989 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#ask sava - 899 posts

#anon - 573 posts

#talking with sava - 437 posts

#the pain of letting you go - 374 posts

#showtime aholes - 270 posts

#reblog - 145 posts

#eddie munson fanfic - 131 posts

#eddie munson - 116 posts

#stranger things - 86 posts

#joseph quinn - 84 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#this is me when my mom makes me talk to her friends who knew me when i was a baby and i get all shy because i don't remember them

My Top Posts in 2022:

prom- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: you ask eddie munson to prom

Warnings: angst bro, unrequited feelings, eddie being a butthead, chrissy is not the villain i promise, not proof read oops

Request: No

Word Count: 2k

A/N: got inspired by this idea @ashwhowrites threw out there about wanting something like this made, so i thought why not give it a shot? plus i've been trying to find an excuse to write an eddie prom fic. enjoy- sava

part two

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1,806 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

positive- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Hopper!AFAB!Reader

Summary: you find out you’re pregnant with eddie’s baby

Warnings: ANGST, hopper being angry, eddie being a dingus, crying, fighting, mentions of abortion, cursing, fluff, happy ending

Request?: Yes

Reader is hoppers daughter, and finds out she’s pregnant. I want so much angst my heart breaks

I’d love some kind of angst situation between hopper daughter reader, hopper and Eddie. Really open to anything, if you could include El too that would be great. Like reader and her get into an argument or something about Eddie and then that leads to hopper finding out reader is dating Eddie. Then more angst lol

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this is the first fic in the collab sleepover i’m doing and ooh it’s exciting! also this may be a hopper afab reader, but i didn’t include any details about race or anything particular, so it could be read as an adoptive hopper daughter as well, i just don’t mention that in the fic. enjoy! -sava

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2,228 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

strange love- e.m (pt 2)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: eddie has a date, with someone who isn’t you. you’re less than thrilled about it

Warnings: best friends!-to-lovers!, ANGST, jealousy, cursing, mentions of vomiting, fluffy ending, eddie's a total sap

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: here is the second part to my strange love fic, which you can find the first part linked below. i love writing for eddie and this little multi-part was fun and i want to continue to write for everyone’s favorite metalhead hehe. i hope you all enjoy :)- sava

part one

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4,602 notes - Posted July 22, 2022

when he loved me- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: the one where you feel eddie begin to pull away from you

Warnings: ANGST, falling out of love, misunderstanding, hurt, eddie being a total sweetie at the end, fluffy & cheesy ending

Request: No

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: inspired by the song “when she loved me” from toy story 2 because i swear every time i listen to my sad sava playlist and that one comes on i’m a fucking bawling mess and thought it could be a cool fic with a twist at the end. benny’s and star court still exist so it isn’t canon but fanfic doesn’t have to be. also, this fic is set in the winter of 85’ and leading into the early days of ’86. one last thing, reader may be a junior but she’s around steve’s age, just for clarification :) enjoy! -sava

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5,118 notes - Posted August 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

strange love- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: eddie has a date, with someone who isn’t you. you’re less than thrilled about it

Warnings: ANGST, jealousy, unrequited love, eddie being clueless, cursing, mentions of vomiting, me knowing nothing about D&D (i’m sorry but it deserves a warning), eventual best friends!-to-lovers!

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: alright y’all this is the imagine i had talked about a few days ago and as someone who loves these kinds of fics, i’m quite proud of myself. also i apologize for my lack of knowledge about D&D, eddie would definitely be disappointed, but i had a friend read it over and he thinks it makes sense so we’re going with it! i hope you all enjoy :)- sava

part two

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13,927 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

i'm actually so embarrassed that the top blog i've reblogged from is MYSELF😭

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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misserabella · 2 years ago

Text

Cigarettes after and sex +18

Eddie munson x fem! reader

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

Synopsis;; Eddie Munson, the hottest guy you knew and on who you’ve had a crush for years invites you to his trailer to smoke together after catching you ditching classes and with a cigarette in between your lips a monday morning. If only you knew the weed will make you talk a little bit too much and everything will end up on a mutual confession…

A/N;; well… HERE IT IS, MY FAVORITE METAL BOY!

REMINDER: english is not my mother language and it’s my first so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

CW;; cursing, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), smut, p in v sex, non protected sex (GUYS STDS ARE REAL, WRAP THE DONG UP), cream pie, finger fucking, chocking, praising, drug use, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

Word count;; 6,5k

:¨·.·¨:

`·. lastly; enjoy! <3

You were definitely a sucker for Eddie Munson, or else you wouldn’t be sneaking out of your room’s window at 10PM a monday night, with a chemistry test first thing tomorrow morning.

But how could you let the opportunity pass when literally the hottest guy in your highschool caught you snitching while smoking and asked you if you’d like to hit his van that night and smoke together? You simply couldn’t! Not when you’ve had the hugest crush on him since he played Dio with his band, Corrored Coffin, a few years ago.

He even lighted up your cigarette with his own for fucks sake!

Yeah, he was a dealer. And a year older than you. But who cares? ‘Cause you definitely didn’t.

You cursed under your breath when your jacket got stuck as you tip-toed out of your window and onto your rooftop. Your heart was pounding on your chest and your legs trembled. You’d never done anything like this before. And how could you when you’ve spent your entire life sharing a bedroom with your non-identical twin, Nancy Wheeler, until your parents thought it would be a good idea to get you your own?

You both seemed to be as perfect. And you? With your incredible marks and popularity? You had everyone at your feet. If only they knew… If only they knew that you were just like any other of those ‘freaks’…

You sighed in relief when you got out, quickly walking towards the side of your house, where you could easily climb down, trying to not make any kind of noise and get caught. You were leaning down when you suddenly were face to face with who you recognized to be Steve Harrington trying to climb up. You both stared at each other with widened eyes. You frowned at him, silently inquiring him what the hell was he doing there. He just pointed towards your sister’s window with his eyes. You rolled your own. Of course…

He gave you an awkward smile, and you huffed, offering him one of your hands so you could help him to get on top of the roof easier with a curse under your breath. He also helped you to climb down afterwards, looking at each other one more time after having switched places and nodding to one another before going back to each other’s business. No snitches here.

You ran towards your bike, getting on top and quickly getting away once you’ve hit the rode. You felt free once the fresh night’s air, making your hair dance as you smiled. You still felt a knot on your stomach due to nervousness, but it was a good kind of it. Thrilling.

You got to the trailers’ parking lot where Eddie lived quickly enough, getting off your bike and taking it with you as you looked for the one trailer he had described you.

“Last one to the left… Last one to the-” a sudden black figure that you caught from the side, motioned towards you, making you scream in horror. “Jesus Christ!” you quieted down when you recognized that it was the metal head, instead of some kind of monster or lunatic…

“Sorry.” he chuckled, his hands up in the hair. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” you cursed under your breath as he pulled them back down.

“What the hell are you doing out here? You almost killed me, for fucks sake.” your hand was still against your chest, your heartbeat slowing down as the time passed. He seemed amused by the way curses flew out of your mouth. That wasn’t something he saw everyday… He liked it.

“Oh, I was just finishing feeding the strays.” he pointed out at a couple of cats that ate from a dish on the floor. Your heart throbbed when you imagined him petting and playing with them. Cute… “Thanks.” he said, laughing when you gave him a confused look, realizing that you’ve said that out loud.

Shit…

He looked amused by your reaction. “So?” he inquired, bending down as he stepped closer and surrounded your. “Shall we?” he rose one of his hands, offering you to go first towards the direction he pointed, to his van.

You just smiled while rolling your eyes at his actions and nodding, moving your feet and hearing him just a couple of steps behind you. You bit your lower lip when he ran to open the door for you.

“Thanks.” you said, leaving your bike on the floor and stepping in, your eyes wandering around the living room as you heard the door close behind your back. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Welcome to my mansion, my lady.” you laughed at his joke. “Please don’t look too close or you’ll start to realize that it’s not as clean as it might seem.” you laughed even harder. “This is the living room, with my lovely kitchen.” he pointed as he gave you a ‘house tour’. You couldn’t stop smiling. “The spa.” he pointed at the bathroom. “We even have a jacuzzi in there.” he rose his eyebrows as he turned around to look at you.

“I believe you.” you said, making him smile before he turned back to continue.

“This is my uncle’s bedroom and…” he took his time with that ‘a’, leaving you hanging ‘till he had opened the door to his own room. “, my noble bedchamber.”

You chuckled, stepping in after him and looking around to the posters of his walls, the D&D game table on his desk, the cigarettes and blunts on the ashtray on his nightstand… You could hear ‘Metal Gods’ by Judas Priest coming from a cassette on the bookcase in front of his bed. You smiled when you saw his Lord of the Rings saga. Such a nerd… A very hot and cute nerd.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.” he went towards one of his guitars, giving it a kiss with a smile tugging on his lips.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” you said, catching his attention. “Is that a fucking NJ Warlock?!” you questioned, walking ‘till you’ve reached him and the electric guitar, your eyes wide and mouth open in awe.

“You know the model?” he sounded surprise for you to know about guitars…, at all.

“Are you kidding? I’ve wanted one of this since B.C. Rich’s comercial aired! The guitar is a fucking wet dream!!!” he felt his heart skip a beat at your words. God, he could’ve just got on one knee and married you right there and then.

“Do you know how to play?” he inquired, stuttering and clearing his throat as his voice came out all wobbly. Clearing his throat and awkwardly pointing at the guitar as his feet fidgeted. He was nervous as fuck. Just the thought of you being this close to him, enough for him to smell the gorgeous perfume you always used, was making him wonder if his heart could stop.

“Oh no, no, no…” you stepped back, shaking your head and hands. “No, thanks.” he scoffed, his mouth wide open as he made a turn and pointed at you, his eyebrows knitting slightly together in shock.

“You do!!!!” you shook your head even harder. He couldn’t believe it.

“No, no! I promise!” his eyes squinted as he stared at you, waiting for you to actually spill the truth. You shook in your place, looking away and biting down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as you gave in. “Okay, fine!” he smiled. “Maybe…, I know the basics.” you said, making him rose his hands in disbelief. “Maybe!”

“This is unbelievable! Unbelievable!” he scoffed. “I cannot believe Y/n Wheeler, the most popular girl in Hawkins knows how to play a fucking electric guitar!!”

“I said the basics!” you corrected him, backing up when he unhooked the guitar from the wall and handed it to you.

“Play.” He even surprised himself by letting you even be that close to his most precious possession. But hell, he was head over heels by you. He had always been. Since that stupid cheerleader shit you pulled a few years ago in your highschool’s contest. He was so nervous to play in front of you that he almost fucked up a couple of times when your eyes would met.

“What?!” you shook your head. “No. No. No.” you panicked.

“Oh, come on!!“ he whined, extending the ‘o’ and letting his head fall backwards. “It’s not gonna break.” he promised as he pushed it towards your chest, making you take it.

“But-”

“No buts.” he cut you off, leading you to his bed and sitting next to you. “Go on!” he encouraged you, slapping his lap with his hands, an excited smile on his face.

You sighed. “Okay, but just one time, alright?” he nodded, getting closer in anticipation. “Any requests?” you asked, tuning the guitar as he, once again opened his mouth in shock.

Requests?!? Didn’t you say you just knew the basics?

He decided to test you.

“Uhmm, ‘Prowler’ by Iron Maiden?” you couldn’t possibly…

“Done.” you said, and his eyes widened when you started playing the song. How in the hell…

He just sat there. Watching your fingers ran through the guitar as if you had been playing for years and making no mistakes as you hit the last verses of the songs.

He couldn’t believe it. You were so…, fuck. He couldn’t even find the words.

“How…?” you cut him off.

“My uncle is a big fan of bands like Black Sabbath, Dio, a little bit of Ozzy here and Judas Priest there…” he was astonished. “He’s the type of person to think that an electric guitar would be the best christmas gift ever for a nine year old, so here I am.” you chuckled as you pushed the guitar back in his arms. “Are you happy now, Munson?” he blinked out of his trance.

“Very.” he slowly nodded, in a loss of words. “I just can’t believe that Y/n Wheeler, Hawkins’ Diamond and the only person who doesn’t call me a freak, could be this cool.” you laughed. “First, I see you ditching classes on a normal Monday morning, smoking. Smoking! And then you do that! Fuck, you even ended up coming to meet up with me!”

“And why wouldn’t I? I like you, Eddie.” you shrugged, making his heart jump at your words.

‘I like you, Eddie.’ He could feel himself ascending.

“You do?” he inquired, still thinking that all that was going on was just a dream. ‘Cause you couldn’t be serious… Right?

“Yeah! I’ve kinda been your biggest fan since you played Dio with your band a couple of years ago.” you smiled, your cheeks burning when he choked.

“You remember Corroded Coffin!?” Jesus Christ…

“Of course, I remember you even had your head buzzed and had put on some eyeliner in your eyes for the contest!” you said, a big smile on your lips as you pointed to your eyes. Visual aid? Nervousness? You couldn’t even tell.

He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“God, don’t remind me of that. The hair really makes me less horrible.” he said, making you huff.

“Don’t say that! You looked cute…” you muttered that last part, making him smile as you looked away.

“You think I looked nice?” you got up, ignoring his question as you wandered around his room, whistling and taking a peek at his records. He followed you, leaving the guitar back on its hook. “God, you’ve got to be kidding me…” he was in cloud nine. And he felt his face and neck so red he could possibly fry an egg on his cheeks.

You turned around to face him, a Black Sabbath tape in between your fingers. “Okay, first of all I’ve got to say that you were the only person I knew that played the guitar too, so I guess I was kind of…, biased?” he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “And anyways, aren’t we supposed to be smoking right now? Why are you asking me so many questions?” he laughed.

“How couldn’t I? I have Y/n Weeler in my room, playing my guitar and listening to metal while asking to smoke with me!! Hanging with The Freak!” you turned to face him with a glare after changing the tape and pressing ‘play’.

“Stop calling yourself that shit, Eddie. You’re not a freak.” he shrugged.

“That’s what everyone thinks of me anyways.” he mumbled, rising a blunt to his lips and lightening it while inhaling. The smell of weed flooded the room, making your heart jump, as it was your first being that close to it, ever.

“I don’t.” you said, catching his attention as he blew off the smoke. “I don’t think you’re a freak, Eddie… At all.” you took his hand to bring it up to his lips, taking a hit at the blunt and coughing in the process. “Holy shit.” he laughed at your reaction, his heart heavily pulsing against his ribs when you took his hand.

“Yeah. That was a first, huh?” he slightly tapped your back. “Need some water?” he questioned you as you wouldn’t stop coughing, amused, but still worried.

“Don’t you have a beer?” you asked him, his eyebrows rising along with a smirk.

“Alcohol and weed? Who are you?” you laughed at his joke. “I wouldn’t recommend it. It hits pretty hard.”

“Eddie, give me my fucking beer.” you rolled your eyes, clearing your throat.

“Okay, okay!” he rose his hands. Bossy, I like it.

Taking a hit on the blunt, he ran out of his room after handing it to you, coming back after a couple of seconds with fresh beers, giving you the one on his right hand. “But don’t drink too much of it, okay? I don’t want you to get sick.” he said, hesitating as you reached to grab it.

“I won’t, I promise.” he gave in and you took a sip. You felt instantly relieved, not feeling your throat that itchy anymore.

And then, for the next thirty minutes you just sat there, on his bed and against his bed frame, listening to some metal and sometimes singing along in between hits. You slowly felt your head get more and more light, and your limbs tingle. When you looked back at him you felt as is your eyes were too heavy and you smiled when his eyes met yours. He was so cute with that wobbly smile and red eyes that you almost jumped on him to squeeze his cheeks. Fuck, you liked him too much for your own sake.

“So? How do you feel? Are you alright?” he smiled back at you, his thumb caressing your red and warm cheeks, finding amusing your state.

As long as he touched you…, you felt…

“I feel fucking amazing.” you groaned as you slipped down, rolling in his bed and stretching your body, not really caring about your shirt rolling up, making your stomach show. His eyes couldn’t help but take a glance at your exposed skin, his tongue damping his lips.

He chuckled, taking the last hit and finishing the blunt, throwing it on the ashtray. “Yeah? That’s good.” you squirmed at the sound of his hoarse voice. When you looked at him, at his stupid smirk and stupidly beautiful eyes you felt like melting.

“Ugh…” he was so hot.

You squeezed your eyes shut, sighing, what made him frown.

“What is it?” he inquired, curious.

You felt your brain working slower than you talked, feeling too brave, too numb, maybe that’s why you didn’t really care about speaking your mind and letting him finally know a truth that you’ve been hiding for so long.

He surely didn’t lie when he said that weed and alcohol was a strong combination.

“You wanna know a secret?” you smiled, taking in between your hands one of his, playing with the ring on his fingers before looking back at him. He was staring at you, damping his lips with the help of his tongue before nodding, letting you talk while fighting really hard the urge to intertwine your fingers “I’ve always had like…, a huge crush on you.” you giggled when his eyes widened.

What…?

“What…?” his voice came out as a gasp, quickly sitting straight as he stood in shock. “Are you… Are you serious right now?” he felt his cheeks redden and his heart start beating faster. There’s no way… He almost got a boner right there and then. ‘Cause you looked so beautiful, with your little skirt and beautiful eyes looking up at him. Lips bright due to your chapstick and the way your warm touch felt…

“I swear.” you muttered, taking one of his rings and putting it on your thumb, since it was too big for you. “Since Corroded Coffin’s play. I guess it all started as some time of…, admiration.” you shrugged. “I don’t really know. You were just so cool…” you sighed. “But then the years started to pass by and I guess that I just couldn’t bring myself to let you know. You made your own D&D group and I…, I guess I kinda got sucked up in all that ‘popularity’ shit.”

He couldn’t believe you. He couldn’t believe it. You? Liking him? He must be dreaming, ‘cause for sure his forever crush and dream girl was not confessing to him right now.

“But god, then you invited me over today, god knows why, and I felt like my heart was going to explode. And I don’t even smoke weed! Well I guess you know that now…” You couldn’t stop. Not when you’ve had all of that bottled up for years on end. “But I still decided to say yes just ‘cause I like you so much…”

“Y/n…” he tried and stop you, unsuccessfully.

“, and you are so cool…”

“Y/n!”

“…, and I wanted so bad to spend time with you that-”

And then you felt his lips against yours, his hair tickling your cheeks since he had leaned down to kiss you, pulling back after a couple of seconds.

“So you are the talkative type when you get high, huh?” he chuckled at your frozen expression and widened eyes, his breath hitting your face. “What is it Wheeler? Cat got your tong-” and before you knew it you pulled his mouth back on yours by tugging on his Hell Fire Club shirt.

He moaned in your mouth as you sat down right in front of him, opening your mouth for his tongue as your hands found his hair, pulling on his locks like you’ve always fucking dreamed of.

“Fuck…” he cursed as you broke the kiss to take a breath, not waiting in pulling you back in by your neck, choking you a little bit.

You whined when you felt the cold metal of his rings against your skin, his grip tightening on your neck and making you gasp as he bit down on your bottom lip. You tried to go back to his lips again, but he just pressed with his fingers on your skin, keeping you in place, unable to get closer.

“Shhh…” he smirked, his pupils blown and droopy eyes filled with pleasure as he took in how good you looked with your lips all red and swollen up from his kisses and…, fuck…, his hand on your neck. That beautiful neck of yours, which could absolutely look even prettier with his hickeys on it. “Shh, baby.” you whined when he stopped you from kissing him one more time. “We should stop.” he muttered, making you frown. “You are high, and you’ve been drinking. I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret tomorrow.” you groaned.

Fuck, and he even cared about you. Was he fucking perfect or what?

“Please Eddie, I won’t regret any of this. I swear, I swear…” you begged, pulling on his neck to make him get closer. “Please Eddie,” you choked, “kiss me… Please? I just need you to kiss me…” his lips brushed with yours and you felt that sickening but exciting feeling of your stomach dropping. You couldn’t get enough of it.

“Are you sure you want this?” he was trying so bad to not kiss you that he was going insane, your pleads and crying making him so hard he couldn’t even think straight. And he believed to be a pretty reasonable guy himself. But with you… It was all so difficult. You made it so difficult for him to not lose himself in you…

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Please, Eddie…” you sighed in relief when he quickly went back to your lips.

There was no turning back now. Not like were thinking about it anyways…

He pulled you by your waist onto his lap, a moan leaving your lips when you felt how hard he was against your ass.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” he muttered against your lips, his grip tightening on your neck, making you whine. “Feel how hard I am just for you?” his free hand sneaked under your tee-shirt, feeling the hot and soft skin of your back. “God, I’ve always wanted you so bad… Wanted so bad to kiss you…” his hand reached a little bit higher. “To ask you out…” and higher. “For you to be mine.” you moaned when his hand grasped one of your tits. “Thought so much about this moment. Of me marking you all up, all that pretty skin of yours, and fucking you so good that I’ll get you drooling all over my sheets…” he grunted as he pulled your shirt up ‘till your tits showed, only for him to lean down and leave wet kissed all over your chest.

You hissed when he sucked on your skin, your hips pushing against his as his tongue licked the bruise so the sting could fade.

“Fuck, Eddie…” you gasped, pushing once again against him, rocking yourself on his clothed cock.

“You are so pretty.” he cursed, pushing you backwards ‘till he was on top on you, the hand on your neck going down your chest and stomach ‘till his fingers felt the end of your skirt against your thighs. His fingers pushing it up to start stroking the wet parch of your black underwear with them.

He was driving you crazy. His hands, his voice, his lips sucking hard on your neck… It was too much.

You moaned his name when he pressed against your clit, your hips bucking against his hand for more.

“So pretty…” he repeated, his mouth latching on one of your nipples when he pulled down your bra, your back arching when his fingers went below your panties and down your slit, sliding easily due to your slick. “And so wet for me…” you whined when he started to touch you and play with your clit, making you moan again and again. “Fuck, I’m gonna eat you out.” he said, making the decision as soon as he heard your cries. He wanted to taste you, he wanted to make you cum on his face and fuck you with his tongue.

You gasped when his hands left your body just to tug on your underwear and strip you out of them, deciding to leave the skirt on since you looked so hot on it. He grunted when you pulled your tee over your head and got rid of your bra, leaving you completely naked up your waist to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” he muttered, biting down on his bottom lip as he stared at you. At your soft and bare skin, at your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips, glazed eyes and hickeys on your neck. Perfect. He thought. You were fucking perfect. “You are gonna be the death of me.” you choked when you felt him go down on you, kissing and marking up your tights as he slowly reached closer to your throbbing pussy.

You swore you could come when he gave you a large stroke with the flat of his tongue. Your back arched and your hands flew to his hair, pulling on his curls and making him groan, the vibration going straight to your clit and making you sob.

“You taste so good.” he muttered before digging back in, one of his fingers circling your entrance just to push in, making you moan as he started fucking it in and out of your cunt, sucking down on your clit at the same time.

“Fuck Eddie, just like that.” you stuttered, not even being able to talk due to the amount of pleasure you were experiencing. “So good…” he moaned at your praising, his dick throbbing in his pants as he fucked the mattress under him in seek of some relief.

He was eating you out like a starved man, entering a second finger and curling them up to find that spot that made you loudly moan and your eyes roll back. He thanked his uncle for taking the night shift that day, ‘cause he would hate for anyone else to hear just how sweet you sounded, how needy you sounded… Just for him.

He smirked when your hips started to move against his face on their own, your thighs shaking on both sides of his face and your pants and moans growing more frequent.

“Fuck, Eddie…” you whined. He knew you were close, that’s why his fingers started fucking you even harder, faster… You could feel that warmth spreading on your stomach, your fingers tugging and pulling harder on his locks as your walls tightened around his fingers.

You started to moan his name over and over again, whimpering as you could feel your orgasm building up, lifting you higher and higher and higher… You couldn’t stop it. It was coming too fast and too hard. Maybe because of the weed. You felt like you were going to die as all your senses where enhanced due to the drugs.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are such a good girl.” you choked at his praise, almost coming on the spot. “Cum for me, cum in my mouth, gorgeous. Let me have it. I’ve got you, baby.” and with a couple of pumps more of his fingers and a lick to your clit you screamed his name, coming on his fingers and mouth as he continued to suck on your clit and pump his fingers in and out of your pulsing cunt, licking you clean and humming when he tasted your release.

You whimpered due to the over-stimulation, your moans being muffled when his mouth had gone back to yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue. And you didn’t dislike it at all, if anything, it only made you ache for more.

“Fuck, you look so pretty.” he muttered, grunting on your mouth when your hand lowered down towards his dick, palming him through his jeans. He was big.

“I don’t want to look pretty.” you whimpered, slipping your hand inside his underwear once you’ve unbuckled his jeans. He hissed, his mouth falling to your neck and sucking new love bites on your soft and warm skin when your thumb circled the rosy tip of his dick, sliding easily due to the precum that dripped down his shaft. “I want to look like a fucking mess.” you smirked when his hips thrusted on your hand at your words, twitching in between your fingers. “I want to look all fucked up. Ruined. Ruin me, Eddie, please.” he groaned at this, his pupils blown when he stared at you in between his eyelashes, helping you to pull his jeans down his thighs, his dick hitting his happy trail once freed. You were drooling, ‘cause it just looked so… Perfect. A nice length along with just the perfect girth to stretch you out just how you needed it. With a rosy tip and veins on its side. You wanted him to choke you with it.

“Is that what you want, hmm?” you nodded, moaning when his hips pressed against yours in a false thrust, his dick against your core. “Is that what my pretty girl wants?” your pussy clenched against nothing when you heard his praise, a gasp falling of your lips when you were back on top of him, your nails digging on his shoulders when his hands found your hips and rocked you against his hard dick. “Then why don’t you use me, hm?” you threw your head back to gave him more access to your neck as his lips latched once again to it, whimpering when he gave you a playful bite, nibbling on your skin. “Use my cock, sweetheart. I want to see you fuck yourself with my dick and cum all over it.” you wanted it, you wanted it so bad that you found yourself rocking your hips against him even harder. “Oh? You liked that?” he smirked, one of his hands gripping your neck. “What a nasty girl…” you cried at his degradation. “Who could have thought you would be such a dirty whore.” you couldn’t understand how you liked both; his praise and degradation. But you did. You fucking did.

“Fuck, Eddie…” you whimpered, feeling yourself trembling at his humiliation. “I want it. Want your dick. Want your cum…” he groaned, choking you harder, his dick slipping through your folds with ease since you were dripping down your thighs.

“Then earn it, sweetheart.” he laid back, his hands leaving your body and resting in the back of his head as he stared at you from below. “Fuck yourself with my cock, baby, want to see you use it.” you moaned, rising your hips as your shaky hands took his dick to line it up against your entrance, after a few pumps slowly sitting on it. You whimpered when you felt the delicious sting of his dick stretching you out. He groaned at the feeling of your walls surrounding him so tightly, his eyes dropping a little more when he could hear your pants and whimpers as he bottomed out. “That’s it. Good girl…” his hoarse and low voice made you clench around him. “So pretty taking my dick.” your nails dug on the skin of his chest when, after the couple of seconds you’ve taken to adjust to his size and girth, you had raised your hips to sink back down on his cock, making the both of you moan. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

The thought of making him feel good made you shiver and moan, a whimper falling off your lips as you raised and lowered your hips once again.

You could feel him so deep that it made you dizzy, muttering his name over and over again as you increased your peace. “Eddie… Eddie… Eddie…” You felt like losing your mind at the feeling of him hitting every and each time your sweet spot, babbling incoherent words due to the pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s right baby. Use me.” you moaned when one of his hands reached up to pinch your nipples, the other teasing your clit. “Use me…” he felt like coming every time you lowered yourself on him. ‘Cause the way your tits bounced…, the way your mouth fell open as you moaned and whimpered his name, the way your eyebrows knitted every time you thrusted himself deep inside of you. Just the fact that you were using him to please yourself was enough to drive him insane. You were a goddamn wet dream, and the creamed pages of the R rated magazines with girls that looked exactly like you could confirm just how many times he had touched himself thinking about this moment.

“Fuck, Eddie…” you moaned, feeling that well-known warmth and pressure spread on your lower stomach once again, bouncing harder on his dick as he circled your clit. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

“Cum on my dick baby. Let me have it.” he muttered, sitting up to start kissing your neck and chest while the hand that played with your nipples tugged on your hair. “Such a good girl, fucking my cock. Look at you drooling. Such a whore…” you whined, feeling closer and closer to your release. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me.”

You moaned his name over and over again as you felt your walls pulsing against his dick, reaching your orgasm with a last thrust and cumming so hard you swore you saw stars behind your eyelids. “Good girl.” he praised, his fingers never leaving your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. “Look how much you came.” he muttered, biting down on his bottom lip and humming when, after bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth, he tasted your second orgasm of the night.

You gasped when he suddenly slammed you against the mattress, one of his hands on your hips and the other on your neck, choking you as he harshly started fucking you. Just like you dreamed of, like you deserved it.

“Eddie…, s…stop…” you tried to say, the overstimulation making your eyes roll back as he thrusted deeply and fast in and out of you. You moaned when he didn’t listen, choking you harder as the wet sound of his balls hitting your ass and your juices against his dick filled the room with his grunts and your whimpers as company.

“Did you think that I was done with you?” he inquired, a smirk on his lips when he saw your mouth fall open in moans and cries, the simple but beautiful makeup you’ve worked so hard on just for him running down your cheeks with your tears. “Didn’t you say you wanted me to ruin you? To fuck the shit out of you? Fill you with my cum?” he whispered that last part against your ear, nibbling on your earlobe and making you whimper at his teasing. “Then fucking take it.” he muttered, groaning when he slammed his hips even harder, your sweet spot being hit over and over again, making your eyes roll back.

“Eddie…” you cried out, trying to push him away when you felt like it was too much. “Stop… Something… Something is gonna come out.” you whimpered, your nails digging in his back and leaving marks as he choked you. You were muttering nonsense against his neck. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…!” you tried to warn him before you came undone in whimpers and cries in between his arms, his sheets, stomach and your thighs getting damped as you squirted. You felt like dying, ‘cause it felt so good…

“Fucking hell…” he muttered, releasing his grip on your neck to grip your hips with both of his hands. “Did you just squirted?” a cry left your eyes when he asked, feeling your cheeks redden but still too fucked out to realize what had just happened. “That’s fucking hot.” he moaned, pulling you towards his hips with every new and harsh trust.

“Eddie please, please, please…” you pleaded, your nails digging on his stomach as you tried to push him away, feeling too overwhelmed with everything but still wanting him to go even further, feeling that strange feeling building up once again.

“What?” he smirked, hair sticking to his forehead as he fucked your brains out, grasping both your wrists with one of his hands to make you stop and pull you harder on his dick. The way your pussy just received him so easily was driving him insane. “Is that greedy pussy of yours gonna squirt all over my sheets again?” you moaned. “Look at you, taking me so deep and so good. You really are a slut for dick, aren’t you? You want it so bad…” you whimpered at his words, your body twitching below him as you moaned. “Want so bad to have the shit fucked out of you. To cum over and over again on my dick…” he groaned when you screamed his name, feeling the wet liquid dampening your thighs once again as he thrusted deep inside you. “Fuck, you are so pretty.” he groaned, his dick twitching inside of you and his hips buckled against yours, his thrusts more erratic as he felt himself reaching his own release. “Tell me baby, do you want it? Do you want my cum in that pretty pussy of yours, hmm?” you nodded, babbling incoherent words as you couldn’t even form a full sentence, not when Eddie was fucking you so good you couldn’t even breath. “Use your pretty words for me, will you?” you moaned, your hands flying to his back once again when he leaned over you, releasing his grip on your wrists to kiss your neck and chest.

“Yes…Yes…” you brought yourself to mutter, tears on your eyes as your legs surrounded his waist. “Please, please Eddie, want your…, want your cum…” he groaned, biting hard on your neck and making you whimper. “I want it. I want it, please…”

You sounded so pathetic and pretty begging for his cum like that… He loved it.

“Fuck. Gonna… Gonna cum, baby.” he moaned on your neck, after two more harsh thrusts cumming deep inside your pulsing cunt, filling you up to the brim as he kept you in place. You moaned when you felt it, sticky and warm, filling you so good your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He moaned as he kissed and sucked on the skin of your neck, his tongue entering your mouth in a wet and sloppy kiss as he came down from his high. “Fuck baby, you did so good for me.” he muttered against your lips, biting down on your bottom lip. “Such a good girl for my dick.” you whimpered when he slipped out of you. “Fuck, look at that…” he moaned, watching his cum fall down from your pussy to his wet and messed up sheets.

You screamed his name when you felt his tongue on your cunt, your hands gripping his locks as he licked you clean. “Fuck, Eddie…” you moaned, when he pumped his cum in and out of you with two of his fingers.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” he smirked when he met your fucked out eyes, sucking the mix of both your juices and making you shiver. “Let me clean you all up, alright?”

But Eddie learnt something new that night. There was nothing he liked more than eating you out with his cum dripping down your cunt.

thanks to everyone that comments, likes and rebblogs! hope y’all enjoyed it! <;33

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fic #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #heavy metal

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writerdream22 · 2 years ago

Text

requested by: no one, but I hope you like this anyways ✨🌻💛

pairings (platonic): Eddie Munson x reader, Dustin Henderson x sister!reader, Mike Wheeler x reader, etc.

warnings: none, except for a few curse words

feedbacks are always welcome!

You considered Hawkins to be quite boring. There were very few people who actually caught your interest, and only one of them was a peer of yours. Eddie Munson.

He was a couple of years older than you, and you'd first met him when you became part of the Hellfire Club. Your brother, Dustin, had insisted on you accompanying him and Mike to one of the club's campaigns, and you'd happily accepted since you really liked D&D but never got to play in a big group.

Eddie had seen you at school, of course, but he had never noticed how much you both dressed similarly. You were wearing a Mötley Crue t-shirt under a denim jacket, which was covered in embroideries and pins of any kind, and it didn't really seem like you were related to Dustin. It was just the tone you had when talking to him that gave it away.

“Eddie, this is my sister, y/n. Y/n, this is Eddie, our dungeon master”

“It's a pleasure to have you here, y/n. But, if you intend on staying here you need to play; granted that you can play”

“Likewise. And yes, I can play D&D”

“What are you? A level one something?”

“I'm an high-elf mage, currently at level 15. Tar-Míriel the Rightful, they call me. And I'm skilled in both melee and ranged attacks”

“Impressive...”

“And she's also an amazing dungeon master, you know? She organized an amazing campaign once, where —”

“Shut up, Dustin! And yes, I was a dungeon master, but I'd never flaunt my skills before the oh-so-mighty Eddie Munson”

“I like you, Henderson. Welcome to the Hellfire Club”

“Thank you”

After that moment, the bond between you and Eddie grew stronger by the minute.

He always invited you to the Hellfire Club's table at lunch, and often insisted on you sitting next to him much to Gareth's dismay.

He also stood up for you whenever Jason Carver told you anything even remotely insulting, and made you laugh when you felt sad.

Most important of all, he made you take his place as dungeon master. Only once, though; it was your birthday, and you'd been saying for a while that you missed the thrill of organising a campaign. So, Eddie fulfilled your wishes with the complicity of every other member of the club.

“Evening, guys— oh, wait, why isn't Eddie sitting on the throne?”

“Well, today, my dear friend, you're going to be dungeon master!”

“Oooh, thank you! Thank you so much! Now let me—”

“Hey, that's my bandana!”

“Well, not anymore!”

That day you had a wonderful time. Everyone laughed, shouted in frustration at the enemies which went in their way and cheered whenever they won a fight. Eddie congratulated himself when it was time to go home, and let you keep his bandana.

Everyone knew that Eddie cared deeply about you; his behaviour was different when he was around you, just like you felt more at ease when around him. You listened to music together, he had tried to teach you how to play the guitar and you offered to listen to whatever went through his mind.

The two of you were like brother and sister, and Dustin was somewhat jealous of your bond; just like any younger brother would be when his older sister spent time with another male.

Eddie often teased you. Sometimes, it was for the fact that you listened to classical music when cooking; he'd found it pretty strange the first time he went over to your house, when you insisted on making sandwiches as a snack.

Sometimes, your best friend teased you for the obvious crush you had on Steve Harrington, who you'd bonded over the fact that you “babysat” Dustin and his friends.

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turtleedovee · 2 years ago

Text

Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Chapter Three: I Do Love Nothing in this World

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: cursing, drug deals, (if I miss anything let me know

taglist: (send ask or message if you’d like to be added)

A/N: so i just got done watching stranger things... i’m not gonna spoil anything but i will say i was sufficiently heartbroken. i hope you all enjoy this chapter. i tried fixing the links to the chapters but something went wrong and i would probably have to delete it and then reupload it but whatever it’s fine. once i’m done i will upload all of this to ao3! hope you all enjoy :)

Snippet:

Eddie wouldn’t say that he hated (F/N), sure she was annoying, stubborn, mean, and a bit uptight, but he wouldn’t say he hated her.

He also didn’t expect a lot of things from her either.

He didn’t expect her to be quick to catch his antics and know how to deal with them.

It only took a few days for her to catch up on whatever he tried pulling, it was scary in some cases, but also quite… thrilling?

If there was one thing he loved it was pushing her buttons, and she gave him full access.

It was the little things he would enjoy, like always being late, or obviously procrastinating the work, or even invading her personal space.

It drove her crazy.

But she caught on too fast, ruining his fun.

So on occasion he would triple her up, and he did so by occasionally showing up on time.

“Ah ha! See? 4:00 PM on the dot—” He saw her staring at the library door.

They had been at this for 3 weeks.

Tutoring Eddie Munson had become less of a grueling chore and more of a game to see who could annoy each other more first. She had grown accustomed to his antics and like the fast learner she was, learned how to get him on task before he strayed so far from the assignment it was hopeless trying to get him back.

They mostly met in the library after school, or in a secluded spot in the woods where he claimed no one else in Hawkins knew where it was.

Or so he thought.

A groan broke her train of thought, Eddie finally showed up and slumped down on the bench across from her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked listlessly.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, rolling her eyes as she looked over at the pitiful face of Eddie Munson.

“C’mon tell me what’s wrong? If you don’t you’ll never be able to focus.”

He sighed, “Ah you know me so well don’t you?” She just gave him a look, gesturing for him to go on, “Fine!” Sighing with exasperation.

“Some dickwad stole my deal.”

She cocked her head to the side, puzzled.

“I was supposed to do a deal with one of the kids from marching band— who knew right?— And when he showed up he said he, ‘got a better deal.’” She couldn’t help but crack a smile, whenever Eddie got remotely upset his nose scrunched up and he balled his fists.

Noticing her amusement at the situation he whined, “It’s not funny! I thought I was the only dealer in Hawkins, now I’ve got competition. I swear I’m gonna find out who this asshole is.” He chewed at the end of lip in thought.

“Whatever you say, are you ready to start now?”

She pushed a notebook towards him, he glanced at it, then her.

“Sure.”

————————————

Eddie wouldn’t say that he hated (F/N), sure she was annoying, stubborn, mean, and a bit uptight, but he wouldn’t say he hated her.

He also didn’t expect a lot of things from her either.

He didn’t expect her to be quick to catch his antics and know how to deal with them.

It only took a few days for her to catch up on whatever he tried pulling, it was scary in some cases, but also quite… thrilling?

If there was one thing he loved it was pushing her buttons, and she gave him full access.

It was the little things he would enjoy, like always being late, or obviously procrastinating the work, or even invading her personal space.

It drove her crazy.

But she caught on too fast, ruining his fun.

So on occasion he would triple her up, and he did so by occasionally showing up on time.

“Ah ha! See? 4:00 PM on the dot—” He saw her staring at the library door.

CLOSED

He glanced at her, she stared intently at the door, she always chewed on her lip whenever she was in deep thought.

After a beat, she turned around, “Well the library’s no good, don’t suppose we can go to the table in the woods today?”

He sucked in the breath through his teeth, “No can do, princess, got a deal there after this and I don’t wanna lose it to whatever shit stain is taking my customers.”

Rolling her eyes she replied, “Well where else do you suggest we go?”

Before his brain could reach his mouth he blurted out, “We could go to my place.”

She just stared at him blankly, he mentally kicked himself for suggesting such a stupid—

“Sure.”

He blinked, at first not knowing what to say, but he recovered quickly, “Wow that was quick, didn’t know you were so eager to see my humble abode.”

“And you offered quicker,” She shot back, starting to walk into the parking lot, “let’s go hotshot, we don’t got all day. And remember what I said about calling me princess.”

Again, stunned to silence, he couldn’t help but laugh.

She was something else.

————————————

If she was being quite honest with herself, she was curious to see where Eddie resided, not that she would ever tell him, it was like wanting to see a lion's den at the zoo. And while the drive to his trailer wasn’t filled with palpable tension, she sure was.

When they finally arrived the sun was inching slowly but surely under the trees, light hues of blue and purple slowly creeping their way into the sky.

He opened the door for her, slowly walking in and she took note of the space; it was nice, cozy. Warm lights decorated the living room, things looked worn but comfortable.

“Make yourself at home.” She could sense some tension, she wasn’t sure if this was the first time someone from school had ever been inside his living space, but she could understand where he was coming from.

“Need anything?” She shook her head, “Alright well lemme get my stuff, be right back.”

He disappeared into the other room for a bit, she began looking around and noticed a bookshelf,

“Gotta nice collection of books here Eddie.” He poked his head out for a second, smiling at what she said, “Thanks, some of those are my uncles.”

“Some Stephen King horror, The Hobbit and—” Continued scanning until something else caught her eyes

No way.

She grabbed the book and chuckled, looking over to where Eddie had headed off she walked over to him, leaning on the doorway and smirked,

“You’re a Shakespeare fan?” Holding up the book, Eddie looked up and laughed, there was not a hint of shame.

“What? Just because I’m a DnD playing metal head doesn’t mean I can’t like classic literature.” He joked.

“Oh no I’d be more surprised if you didn’t read Shakespeare,” She glanced at the cover, “Macbeth huh? Sounds about right.”

“And what does thine lady mean by all that?” He asked inquisitively.

Making her way inside his room she pushed, “Just the whole witches, spell casting, death, madness, blah blah blah. It kinda fits your whole vibe.”

“And you seem like the kind of lady to find joy in the writer's more comedic stories.”

Feigning shock, “How’d you guess?”

Groaning, Eddie made his way closer to her, “You can’t seriously tell me Shakespeare’s comedies are more iconic than his tragedies.”

“Just because they’re well known and loved doesn’t mean that his other works aren’t also masterpieces!” She sized him up, “I’d expect you of all people to understand that.”

Clutching his chest as if she really hurt him he winced playfully, “You have truly wounded me, Lady (F/N).”

“You’ll get over it.” She laughed.

Not noticing the look that Eddie gave her when he heard her laugh, his chest felt a little warmer, and suddenly he found himself unable to breathe.

Quickly trying to recover he said, “Well what comedies does the Lady (F/N) find entertaining and worth a chance at my attention.” He patted a spot next to him on his bed.

She playfully rolled her eyes, “Well there’s Midsummer—”

“Oh c’mon that one is obvious! Give me a harder one.”

Chuckling, she thought more about it, “Um, The Tempest, Twelfth Night, Merchants of Venice, Much Ado About Nothing?”

Marking them off like a checklist, Eddie listed them all on his hand, “Definite yes, no, meh, and never read it.”

She did a double take, “You haven’t read it?” Eddie shrugged innocently, “Okay when we’re done with this I’m going home and lending you my copy.”

Eddie laughed at her enthusiasm, “Well if you’re lending me a copy it’s only fair I lend you one myself.” He got up and made his way to his bookshelf.

She felt slightly colder, not realizing that she was relying on his body heat for warmth.

He shouted triumphantly when he found what he was looking for, “Antony and Cleopatra. One of— I think— his best tragedies.”

“If you’re so well versed in Shakespeare how is it possible you are struggling in English Lit.” She joked.

Waving her off dismissively, “That’s not the point— the point is: if you want me to read your silly story, then you have to read my tragic one.”

He got down on his knees, now eye level with her, hiding behind the book. She wouldn’t tell him, but she had read the story before, but she thought it was cute how he wanted her to read something he enjoyed as much as she wanted him to.

Pretending to think it over she sighed, “I guess,” gingerly taking the book and looking at its cover, “but now, we have to get to work.”

Eddie grimaced, “Dangit princess, I thought I finally fooled you.”

“Ha, you could never fool me Munson.”

He sighed, giving her a small and genuine smile, “Yeah. I know.”

————————————

She opened her locker, trying to run through what she needed to take home for work today, when she sensed a presence right next to her locker door.

However when she closed her locker, she was surprised— and slightly disappointed— that it wasn’t Eddie.

He flashed her a wad of cash, “You got stuff?”

She quickly shoved his hand down and looked around for anybody who would be looking, “Keep your voice down Miles!” Sighing she grabbed the rest of her stuff and made her way to somewhere more private, “Come with me.”

They walked to the back of the school, in between two of the buildings that were covered by the fence that led into the track field and the few trees that were littered around campus.

“Look, can we make this quick? I got places to be.” She asked impatiently.

Miles McCoy. He was one Jason Carver’s henchmen, his wild red hair and lanky figure wouldn’t have been a give away, but he wore his letterman jacket with pride and without washing it.

“Are you sure your deals are better? I was talking to a few other people and they said Munson’s—”

“Look,” she said in her sickly sweet voice, “you wouldn’t buy curdling milk, would you?”

He cringed, “No ew.”

“Exactly! Munson’s crap is old, did you know that weed doesn’t work half as well when it’s been sitting in a box for over a week?” She lied.

The best thing about doing deals with basketball players is that they weren’t the brightest in all of Hawkins.

He still looked pensive, unsure about the deal.

“If you’re not ready for this I get it,” Feigning concern for his well being, “I mean, just tell Jason that you weren’t ready for—”

“Of course I’m ready!” He puffed up his chest defiantly.

She smiled, “Well then let's do this, but first I have some rules.” He looked puzzled.

“Number 1: You don’t know where you got this. You don’t mention me by name and you most definitely don’t tell Munson you got your weed from someone else, got it?” The sweetness in her voice long gone, now replaced with venom, “Number 2: All sales final. And Number 3: If you fail to follow rule one I will make sure you’re benched for the rest of the season, and we wouldn’t want people to question why those nimble fingers were all bruised and broken would we?” Miles looked sufficiently horrified and nodded quickly, shoving the money her way as she gave him the weed.

“Nice doing business with you.” She smiled and began to walk away when he called out to her, “Wait!”

She turned around looking bored, “What?”

He looked nervous, “So if people wanna know where to get a good deal, who do I send them to?”

Thinking about it she smirked, “I’ll see you around Miles.”

Walking away, she left Miles more confused than before, he looked at the bag, a note scribbled two words.

The Fool.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 spoilers #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #enemies to lovers

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seecarrun · 3 years ago

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Reddie Ficlet- “Play Date Invite”

When Eddie first came home from school with the news of his play date invitation from Richie Tozier, his mother had been legitimately thrilled.

"That's right, Helen," she bragged into the phone that night after dinner. "Eddie has made friends with Doctor Tozier's son. Yep, the dentist. The handsome one. He's got a son Eddie's age. He's seven and already rubbing elbows with the right kind of people."

Eddie had no real idea as to why his aunt Helen would care about Eddie making friends with Richie Tozier of all kids, but he kept that thought to himself. It was probably safe to assume that his mom didn't really know much about Richie, if she was so excited that he had been invited over to play, let alone considered him the right kind of people.

He bit his lip, stifling a giggle at the memory of Richie shooting chocolate milk out of his nose and all over Greta Keene's lunch tray that day. It had earned Richie (another) detention, but also a snort of amusement from Eddie, which he had claimed was worth it. Eddie thought Richie was insane, but that insanity was what had drawn him to him in the first place, he'd never been friends with someone so... chaotically fun before.

"You should come over to my house this weekend!" Richie had whispered to Eddie while they were supposed to be doing silent reading. Eddie had wrinkled his nose in confusion.

"What?" he asked, surprised. "Why?"

Richie laughed, grinning so wide, Eddie couldn't help but smile weakly along with him. "Cause we're friends, dude!" he told him excitedly. "And if you come over, we can hang out without school getting in the way." He rolled his eyes, like the entire concept of school existed for the sole purpose of getting in the way of his valuable playing-with-friends time, which Eddie didn't doubt was actually the case, as far as Richie was concerned.

He had told him he would ask his mom, but not to hold his breath. Ever since his dad had passed away, she had kept the leash pretty short and tight, and it would be a cold day in hell before a kid like Richie Tozier was going to make her loosen her grip.

Which was why it was so surprising that she not only agreed, but agreed enthusiastically.

"No shit, she said yes?" Richie asked, bouncing around on his toes in excitement during morning recess.

Eddie winced at the curse word, but nodded excitedly. "I'm just as surprised as you are, dude!" he cried. "She was like, really excited about your dad being a dentist. She called my aunt about it."

Richie nodded. "Ah yeah. Old ladies love that for some reason." He waved off the idea like the silly thing it was and turned his attention back to Eddie to grin brilliantly. "I can't wait!"

Eddie’s stomach flipped excitedly. “I can’t wait either!”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #car’s fanfiction #will I continue this? who knows #I feel like based on her whole thing with the lobster in the book that Sonia really looks up to ‘high class’ people #I feel like she would be super excited about getting in with the presumably well to do Toziers #until she actually meets Richie at least lol #‘this little bug eyed buck toothed weirdo is the sun of the handsome dentist?? wat??’

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half-bakedboy · 4 years ago

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jumping to (the wrong) conclusion (read on ao3)

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Summary: “Buck, Eddie was trying to tell you he’s in love with you,” Taylor said, her voice more serious than he thought she’d be capable of with so much alcohol in her system.

“He— No— Wait, I— What?” Buck’s mind came up with rapid-fire responses because no part of him was truly ready to handle the fact that his best friend might feel the same for Buck as he had for the last two years.

Or Eddie realizes something about his best friend, Buck finds his courage and Taylor gets to witness it all.

A Season 4 Episode 11: First Responders Extended Scene (contains minor spoilers for the ep)

The adrenaline was still pumping through Eddie’s veins even after he had changed out of his sweat-soaked uniform and taken a longer than necessary shower at the station. His blood was thrumming under his skin and he was sure he would vibrate right out of his body if he had the ability. The gunshots still echoed in his ears, Bobby’s quick actions flashing across his mind, and before Eddie realized it, he was pulling up to Buck’s apartment building.

He should have figured that’s where he would end up. Chris was with Hen, Karen, and the kids for the night, and Eddie had planned to drink a few beers by his lonesome while watching the UFC fight he had missed a few days prior. He had set it up to be the perfect night in his head, but he realized that his night couldn’t be nearly perfect because Buck wouldn't be there. Buck was just… inevitable.

Before he could think about what that meant, he got out of the car and locked the door with his keyfob, knowing that Buck would recognize the familiar beep of his car. He was lucky enough as he walked in that one of Buck’s neighbors that Eddie knew to be a night nurse was just leaving for her shift.

“Eddie, stopping by again already?” Becky shouted with a wiggle of her eyebrows. He jogged up the steps and grabbed the door from her, picking up the water bottle she had dropped on the floor to help her out. While Becky was very sweet and often let Eddie in when Buck wasn’t awake yet, he didn’t really feel like sparking up a conversation when his mind was racing as it was.

“Yeah, is Buck around?” He asked, making sure to keep a safe distance between them.

“He is, I think he came back with—“

Before she could finish, Eddie interrupted, “Thanks so much. Have a good shift!”

He was pretty sure he sprinted up the steps, unsure of how his feet were moving so fast. His mind was still racing, over and over with only thoughts of Buck clouding his conscience. Buck, who had been his best friend for years and had saved Eddie - not to mention Christopher - more times than he could count. Buck, who was the only thing Eddie had thought about for the last few months like a stream of what if’s and what could be’s that spiraled around his mind. Buck, Buck…

“Buck?” He called as he pounded his fist against the door. It was overkill, he knew. Buck had never not answered the door for anyone if he was home because he was just too kind to ignore someone who may be in need. Eddie’s smile widened on his lips at even the mere thought of Buck and he ran his hands over his face in both frayed nerves and sheer excitement as he waited for Buck to answer.

When the door opened and Buck’s confused look turned into a wide smile, Eddie pushed himself past the entrance and turned on Buck before either of them spoke. He thought at first that he wouldn’t know what to say, but then his eyes met Buck’s and he couldn’t stop himself from once the words started.

“I almost got shot today. Again,” Eddie added with a laugh, and Buck’s face contorted into that deep concern he seemed to always have for everyone but himself. “I’m fine, we’re all fine, but Buck, I was caught in the crossfire of yet another person with an indescribable amount of evil in their heart and it was like I was back there, in Afghanistan with enemy fire coming at all sides. That adrenaline, that fear, that instinct to survive kicked on in full force.”

“Eddie, are you—“ Buck tried to speak, his arms reached out as if to inspect Eddie for injury, but Eddie stepped closer and grabbed his hands tightly instead.

“And all I could think about was you,” Eddie admitted, shaking his head in disbelief that he had actually said it. “I heard the first shot and I thought, ‘thank god Buck isn’t here so I can focus on the girl I’m here to save’ and at no point did I stop to question why that was. Then I was loading her into the ambulance, about to crawl outta my skin with— with thrill just vibrating through me and somehow I found myself here.”

“Maybe we should—“ Eddie barely noticed Buck suddenly tense and glance over his shoulder.

“I realized that I am always going to find myself here because you’re my person, you know? My partner that I trust in times of severe danger, my best friend that I want to be around when anything exciting happens to me, and Jesus, Buck, I want you—“

“If it isn’t the one man at Station 118 that can’t stand me.” The voice had Eddie’s bubbling blood freezing in his veins and if he had hackles, he was sure they’d be standing at attention. Eddie turned and saw none other than Taylor Kelly - Eddie refrained from calling her the reporter from Hell because he knew Buck hated it - making herself comfortable in the kitchen with a half-empty champagne glass in her grasp and a knowing smirk on her face.

“I didn’t realize you were coming by, Eddie, I—“ Buck began, but Eddie held up his hand. It was then that he noticed Taylor’s discarded shoes next to the kitchen island and the already empty bottle of champagne on the counter.

“No, I’m— I’m sorry for barging in like this. I’ve clearly interrupted…” Eddie trailed off, tearing his eyes away from Taylor to gaze back at Buck, “whatever this is so I’ll just head out.”

“Why don’t you join us, Firefighter Diaz? We’ve got extra champagne to celebrate our successes today and I’m definitely not one to turn away fine looking men on such a beautiful night,” Taylor commented and Eddie noticed the glare Buck shot at her. He also noticed the twinkle in Buck’s eyes and the way his lip tugged up at the corner like he couldn’t help but be amused by her.

“You two have— a night. Together. Without, uh, me,” Eddie said before he rushed out the door.

-------------------------------

The door slamming interrupted the giggles bursting from Taylor’s lips. Buck knew she was tipsy - they both were, in all fairness, - but the way she snorted and then laughed some more told him she was far beyond safe to drive home that night.

“Oh my god, that poor dude, he just— came in here guns a-blazing,” Taylor said and then laughed more, presumably at her own ridiculous joke. She took a deep breath and shook her head, staring up at a wide-eyed Buck. “Well, what the hell are you still doing in here, idiot?”

“What? Where else would I—?” Taylor grabbed the cork from the counter and threw it directly at Buck’s head. It bounced off his temple and hit the floor before Buck reflexes could catch up to him. “Damn, Kelly, you play softball at journalism school or something?”

“Yeah, it’s what gave me such a good gaydar,” she replied. Buck was unsure how that was relevant to the conversation and tilted his head at her, pursing his lips in questions. “Buck, Eddie was trying to tell you he’s in love with you,” Taylor said, her voice more serious than he thought she’d be capable of with so much alcohol in her system.

“You’re not stupid, Buck, and I know I tell you all the time that you are, but you know I don’t mean it,” Taylor said, walking over to Buck and resting a comforting hand on his bicep. “Eddie was just spouting poetry at you, dude. You heard what happened over at dispatch today. If Josh hadn’t been so on his game, there’s a solid chance that Eddie - the entire team - might have—“

“Oh my god, he—“ All of sudden, Eddie’s words caught up with him. All I could think about was you. You’re my person. Forever. The words flashed in Buck’s mind like lightning on a hot summer night and he wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore.

“He loves you,” Taylor reassured, nudging him toward the door. All it took was the familiar beep of Eddie’s car unlocking for Buck to surge into action.

He threw himself down the stairs at least two at a time and pushed the door open with a huff and a shout for Eddie; his partner, his best friend, the person he had been in love with since the very beginning. Eddie stopped but didn’t turn, and Buck could see the white-knuckled grip he had on the door handle even in the limited light.

Buck was never good at saying the right thing. He spoke without thinking more often than not which anyone that had ever had a conversation with Buck would attest to, but he knew that he couldn’t do that then. Whatever he chose to say at that very moment would make or break their relationship even further than it might have already been the moment Eddie laid his eyes on Taylor.

He had it all planned out before. He would ask Eddie out on a real date and when he inevitably thought they were getting dinner as friends, Buck would declare his intentions with a brave voice and hope with everything in him that Eddie felt the same. He straightened his spine, brought his shoulders back, and crossed his arms over his chest, but the voice that followed did nothing to match the strong stance.

“Athena arrested me today,” Buck noted, cursing himself at the ridiculous start. When Eddie didn’t turn around, Buck took a cautious step forward and rested a hand on his shoulder, grateful for the way his grip eased on the door. “I got into trouble that I shouldn’t have to try to do the right thing and it was probably reckless and stupid, but I did it as I’m sure you knew I would,” Buck laughed and shook his head as he admitted, “and the entire time I wished it was you beside me.”

He ignored the shout from Taylor who apparently didn’t like that comment.

“I didn’t know you were the one getting shot at, but if I did, I— I don’t think Athena could’ve kept me in that interview room,” Buck said, grateful when Eddie turned on him with wide eyes.

“Wait, Thena literally arrested you?” Eddie asked incredulously, but Buck saw the little bit of amusement in his eye anyway.

“I mean, nothing that’ll show up on record, cause you know I would’ve called you to bail me out,” Buck noted. Eddie laughed and looked down at the keys in his hands and Buck took the chance to move one step closer. “I didn’t know you were there, putting yourself in the line of fire, Eddie. The second I heard you say it, I couldn’t hear anything else because I was too worried that even though you were standing right in front of me, there was a chance you could not have been.”

“You didn’t… hear me?” Eddie asked, glancing up at Buck like his worst fear had come true. Buck was pretty sure the adrenaline rush Eddie had was washed away by seeing Taylor in his apartment and if that was Buck, he wouldn’t have the courage to say all that he admitted again. So Buck let himself take the reins.

“Do you wanna get dinner?” He asked, just as he had practiced so many times before.

“Do I want to…”

“God, Diaz, just say yes so that I can go pass out on Buck’s couch with the satisfaction of all the good I’ve done today,” Taylor yelled and Buck glared at her once again.

“Does saying yes to you mean I have to like her?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Buck huffed out a laugh and said, “She grows on you.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Eddie commented as he locked his car doors again and pushed past Buck as easily as he had a few minutes ago.

“Is that a yes, then?” Buck asked as he jogged to catch up, bumping his waist into Eddie’s as they reached the front door.

“Got any more champagne?” Eddie asked, avoiding Buck’s question. Taylor let out a snort as she followed them into Buck’s apartment.

“Oh, I like this one, Buck. He’s gonna be good for you,” Taylor said before throwing herself on the couch and leaving the two men in the kitchen.

“He already is,” Buck muttered, staring over at Eddie who had helped himself to a beer he had no doubt left in Buck’s fridge. “Except he still hasn’t answered my—“

“Yes, Buck. Dinner sounds great.” And it really, really did.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #buddie fic #coda fic #911 coda #911 on fox #911 spoilers #ish #its not that spoilery i dont think??#idk asldkjf;as #HOW THE SCENE SHOULD HAVE GONE IMO #my writing #hope you like it!

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beauregard-s · 4 years ago

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Sharing (Bill D. x Reader x Eddie K.)

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader x Eddie Kaspbrak (All of them are 18+)

Word Count: 7k (I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Lots of NSFW material. Includes M/F/M threesome, fingering, oral (fem and male receiving), and unprotected sex. Also includes a bit of a Voyeur!Bill Denbrough and a lot of Dom!Bill Denbrough. And, of course, cursing and dirty talking.

A/n: I don’t even know what to say about this one, but I HAD to write it. I’m kind of insecure, but very happy because I finished it after a long time. It’s huge, I know, I’m sorry lmfao

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“I d-didn’t even get st-started, y/n...”

Bill kept acute attention on you and the fucked-out expression you had, his wrist down the waistband of your shorts, his hand inside your soaked panties, and his fingers tracing small circles over your aching clit. You held onto the counter behind your back so hard you could feel the numbness spreading through your hands. You felt the urge to clench your thighs together to get more of his touch, but Bill kept a knee between yours, his face so close his lips brushed against your cheeks and lips here and there.

You felt like you were tip-toeing on your edge, everything he did plus de thrill of having all your friends right in the next room driving you there. You could even hear their voices in the living room while you and Bill were hidden in his kitchen. You loved forbidden things such as the fear of being caught, and Bill knew that pretty well. And shared it with you.

“Do you wanna c-c-cum, love? I can f-feel you already p-pulsing...” he muttered, teasingly dragging his middle finger up and down your slit, never inside you. “Yes, please...” You purred, eyes on those ice blue ones of his, biting down your lip whenever you felt the urge of moaning loud. Bill smiled down at you so sweetly it didn’t even look like he was torturing you like that. “You will, b-but not now”. That and the way he slowed down so his fingers were barely moving made you whimper and grind against him. Bill kissed your cheek like he was sorry for keeping you so denied like that, but you knew he wasn’t. He loved all of that, teasing and leaving you hanging there, hot for him, just to fuck you senseless on his bed later. He loved that, and so did you.

“You’re so not getting away with this, William Denbrough” you hissed, but that only made him laugh. “I very m-m-much d-doubt it, y/n y/l/n.”

You smiled every time he’d say your name, simply because he never stuttered saying that. He pressed his whole hand against you and you gasped. He took in the chance of your parted lips to kiss you harshly like he always did. And you two could stay like that forever, but you heard a loud noise that made both of you freeze.

You looked at the kitchen door and Eddie was standing there, widened eyes and a cup you supposed he had in his hands, now shattered on the floor.

“I-I’m sorry, guys... Really. I’m so sorry. Fuck!”

And just as fast as all happened, he stormed out of there, while you were still smashed against Bill’s chest, his hand still inside your shorts and your lips raw from kissing. You looked back at each other and you saw his face turning red in embarrassment at the same time you felt your cheeks burning too. But then you both burst in laugher, finally parting away. “Damn, Bill, we scared the shit out of him” you tried to pull yourself together, adjusting your clothes, while Bill crossed the room to get a broom. “I b-b-bet ten b-bucks he will scold us about how unsanitary it is t-to touch ourselves in a k-kitchen. You b-better go and keep him from t-telling the others”.

Bill stayed behind to clean the broken glass and you made your way to the living room, ready to be the target of every sexual line of Richie for the rest of the year as soon as Eddie gossiped about what he just saw, but when you approached the rest of the Losers, they’re shit-talking about Bowers around the Monopoly board on the coffee table.

“Holy shit, y/n! Where is Bill?” Stan, the banker, fizzed. “Does he wanna buy Park Place or...?”

You frowned at them, surprised you didn’t get the mocking you were expecting. You read each of them, from Beverly sipping on her juice to Mike tapping his cards on the board, and they all seemed unaware. “I don’t know. I think he won’t, he’s almost bankrupted...” Your eyes then landed on Eddie automatically, sitting on his spot at the couch because he didn’t like to sit on the floor, looking nervous as heck.

His eyes didn’t meet yours, he seemed even more embarrassed than you felt that moment and it made you feel bad. You just didn’t know what was going on. You knew Eddie was kinda... Naive. He once hooked up with a girl at the homecoming and the boys kept making fun of that for months, but that was all he had in his history. You started worrying that you made him too uncomfortable, and now he was grossed out or something.

As soon as you took your seat again, Bill stepped into the room and, perceiving the ignorance in the air, he raised an eyebrow at you. You just shook your head as Stanley scuffled at him about the Park Place slot.

“What the hell happened earlier?” you asked, pulling your top down on you.

Bill sighed and shifted between the sheets, only covered by the fabric once he refused to get up with you. His sleepy voice made you smile, the sight of his bare chest flaunting some hickeys made you shiver. “You t-talking about...?”, “Eddie, Bill. I’m talking about Eddie.” you said, softly. “I mean, after he saw us he was just sitting there, deadly silent. Then he claimed bankruptcy ten minutes later and ran back home”.

Your boyfriend Denbrough rested his arm under his head and looked at you, narrowing his eyes. “I just ate you out until you screamed, and you were t-t-thinking about Eddie? S-seriously, y/n?”. Yes, he was right and you still felt your knees weak, but he laughed it off and shook his head right after. “I d-don’t know, love... He seemed k-kinda stressed. You’re worried ab-b-bout him, aren’t you?”. You shrugged, sitting down on the bed to put on your beaten converses. “Yes... I mean, Eddie is so high-strung... I just didn’t want to annoy him so much with something so silly. I love him.”

You and Eddie had known each other for years. Not as long as he knew Bill, but still, you had a strong bond. He and Bill met when they were just six, you joined the party when you all were ten. He was the one who you first confessed to being in love with Bill, in the first place. And he was the one who advised you on telling Bill himself.

“And he loves you too, b-babe.” Bill sat up and scooted closer, his lips meeting the crook of your neck from behind.

You raised a brow at his tone.

“What?” “No, I m-mean... Don’t tell m-me you never noticed.” You spun around so you were facing him. Bill looked serious, although a tiny smirk danced on his lips. “Oh, you d-didn’t...” “I didn’t what, exactly, William?”. He laughed at your anxiety. “Y/n, m-m-maybe Eds is head over heels f-for you.” You tilted your head while he kept an eye on your reaction. “No,” you said. “You can b-bet your sweet ass.”

Of course the next days felt weird.

There was definitely something wrong with Eddie Kaspbrak. He’d evade away somedays, making up excuses so he wouldn’t hang out with the group, and when he showed up you noticed how distant he was from you. Bill could keep better with all of this, he was brave enough to talk to Eddie like nothing happened, but you weren't. You were that one kind of person that, when things went wrong, would step back afraid of making it worse.

So it was what you did. You stepped back and let time solve things.

It took two weeks before Eddie made it to the Clubhouse again. You were laying on the couch, Bill’s arm around you as you had your back against his chest. Bev was sitting right in front of you, at the hammock, while you and Richie made fun of their kiss in the third grade.

“Don’t be such a prude, Billiam.” Richie teased, walking in circles and messing with Stan’s Rubik's Cube. “He’s not a prude. I don’t know why he’s blushing so much,” you said softly as Bill rolled his eyes. “That’s okay, we kissed when we were kids and I passed the baton to y/n.” Bev laughed and you two shared a playful wink. Richie scoffed, “Good friends share, honey. That’s what they say.” You laughed along with the others when Bill looked down at you, as red as a cherry, but grinning. “Y’all should j-j-just shut the fuck up -” but he got cut off when the trapdoor swung open and Stan went down through it, bringing Eddie.

“What kind of sickness are you guys humming about?” Stan asked casually. “Heard something about sharing from up there... Fuck off, Richie!”

Stan slapped the cube off Richie’s hands, fingers moving fast, trying to fix the mess, while Eddie moved around looking for a seat. His eyes inevitably drifted over you and you felt that weird embarrassment again. Your legs were occupying the free spot at the couch, your dress tucked in between your thighs so you wouldn’t show your underwear around. You immediately sat up, making room for him, and, with no choice, Eddie walked over and fell by your side.

“We were just stating that good friends sometimes share stuff, like y/n and I shared Bill.” Bev said and you chuckled over Stan’s expression of disbelief. “You didn’t share, Bill. You can’t call a peck during third-grade sharing.” Richie whistled. “Now we are talking? What do you mean by sharing, Staniel? Don’t be shy, elaborate!”

Stan didn’t even hesitate, leaning against a wood column.

“Threesome”.

The word fell like a bomb. At least it hit you like that.

Beverly was laughing and Richie was delighted with the dirty path that talk went through. You could feel Bill softly chuckling against you while his fingers grazed your arm. You didn’t understand how could he remain so relaxed over a subject like that when you could feel yourself blushing hard to it. You were not a prude, but now you felt like.

“Yeah, that’s some good stuff...” Richie cooed. “Bev and y/n/n on Big Bill...”

“Beep beep, Richie!” You called out.

“Oh, I can see you getting redder than a tomato, y/n! Tell us all, are you fond of the idea, or Bill doesn’t like sharing you much?”

“Richie, I swear to God...”

“I’d share you.” Bill said, softly. And he didn’t stutter at all. You looked up at him, dry swallowing your soul, but he kept the cool look and didn’t glance back.

Now even Stan had looked up at you and Bill from his cube and you all stayed silent over some good seconds before Richie broke the ice. ”Well, in this case, y/n, dear, your favorite Trashmouth will always be here for you,” and blew you a kiss that made you laugh even though we were shocked.

“...B-but I’d do it with someone who d-d-deserved her.” Bill completed.

Richie threw his hands in the air in surrender. “But I'm classified! I’m quite experienced in this shit!” Bev made herself comfortable at the hammock while your mind spun with the chaotic level of that talk. “Are you, Tozier? Tell us then” she teased. Richie nodded slowly, talking dreamily, “Amber Miller and Melanie... Melanie Something, in the bathroom at that guy Trevor’s party”.

“No way!” Eddie finally hissed by your side, and you knew by his high-pitched tone you weren’t the only one uncomfortable there. “You can’t call it a threesome when one just sucked your dick while you kissed the other, because that’s all you did to those two, Richie!”

“Yeah?” Richie’s eyes widened even more behind his thick glasses “Tell us then, Eddie Bear, do you count chickening-out on fucking Greta Bowie as losing your virginity for real? Because if you don’t, I have fucking news for you, my good man!”

And that was it. The igniting point had been established. Eddie got up and disappeared up the trapdoor the fastest you had ever seen. “Richie...” Beverly hissed, but you didn’t stay to hear the lecture that was about to start. You glanced at Bill and he nodded, so you climbed the stairs out of there.

The sun was already setting and the light through the trees had an orange tone when you spotted Eddie marching down the trail that’d lead him out of the Barrens. So you followed him and shouted for his name once. You knew he heard you, but he didn’t stop. “Edward Kaspbrak!” his full name would do it, and did. His pace became sloppy and he stopped, turning around to look at you. You stopped breathless at least eight feet apart from him, and the upset way he looked at you broke your heart in half.

“What? Yes, y/n, it’s true. I’m a fucking virgin and I didn't fuck Greta at the homecoming! I left her in her car and ran away! Happy?”

You frowned and shook your head. “No... I... To hell with Greta! What the fuck is happening to you?”. Eddie breathed out. "Nothing.”

“I swear I’m gonna hit you...” You muttered. “You can’t even look me in the eye, Eddie. It’s been like that since...”

”Since you s-saw me touching her.” You heard Bill’s voice cut you off from behind you. And he was there, looking at Eddie severely as he approached both of you.

Eddie looked cornered somehow, and Bill didn’t want to turn things worse, so he also stood a few feet away from you. Not touching or anything. Eddie’s big brown eyes ran from you to Bill repeatedly and you saw his cheeks became flushed, although his jaw was clenched. “You’d not... It’s nothing.”

“It’s something, yes. What was that? Did you... Did we gross you out that bad?” You grew the courage to ask. “No!” He denied it in a millisecond. “You didn’t gross me out, neither of you did...”

“So what w-was it, Eddie? You c-can tell us anything, and you k-know that” Bill wooshed.

Eddie sighed and shook his head. “I just... I’m sorry. What I saw in the kitchen, it was... Overwhelming”.

You raised a brow. “Overwhelming?”

“Yes,” he continued, talking fast as he always did, but in a low and mushy tone. “I don’t know why, but it was, I mean... I...”

“E-Eddie?” Bill encouraged.

“I have feelings for you!”

Eddie said that with his doe eyes looking directly into yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I always had, y/n... I don’t know why. I’m sorry, Bill.” he whined.

The three of you remained silent for a while. You ruminated all of that, thinking about what Bill told you in his room days before. “I-I already k-knew it, Eds.” Bill’s voice sounded calm, but you didn’t look at him. You looked back directly at Eddie. “It’s not like I’m jealous of you guys, really. I was and am happy you are together because you love each other. And I love both of you. Please, Bill, don’t be mad.”

You looked for Bill’s reaction and caught him shrugging slightly. “It’s okay, E-Eddie. It really is...”

Bill was never too jealous of you. Of course, his dominant traces would make him act up when guys hit too hard on you, but he never seemed to care about Richie’s jokes, or about how close you were to the other Losers. He was very protective, but not jealous. Maybe that was why he was so cool about it while you were panicking?

He was just standing there, hands on his pockets. You were absolutely weak for the way he most of the time looked so put together although the world was falling apart, but sometimes his bravery turned into some dangerous lack of rational fear. Like now.

“I wasn’t grossed, nor jealous, I promise. I’m sorry, y/n.”

Your eyes ran back to Eddie and his fists had relaxed, his lips parted. You could clearly see his freckles over his blush and that, somehow, gave you butterflies inside. He didn’t have his fanny packs anymore, but seconds before you swore he could draw his inhaler out of his front pocket any time soon. Now he just seemed pacified.

“That’s okay” You assured. “It was not your fault, Eddie” The soft smile he gave you warmed you from the inside and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“You b-b-broke down, didn’t you? When you s-saw her that way?” You almost punched Bill for saying that when you were trying to fix things up, but there was no need. Almost immediately, Eddie whispered a soft “Yes.”

"And t-that’s okay. You’re attracted t-to her. I’m cool with it. Y/n?”

Bill called out your name, but you were frozen while your thoughts ran wildly. You out of nowhere recalled things such as your first fall off a bike, and how Eddie took care of the scratches and cuts on your knees and hands. Or how he used to tease your while y’all played chicken fight at the quarry. He didn’t change much from those times. He was about your height now, still all about polo shirts and the warmest eyes you ever saw.

“Me too. Totally.” You mumbled.

Eddie seemed relieved judging by the sweet smile he had on. “Nice...” he said, motioning towards the trail “But I’m gonna head home anyway. It’s getting dark and I swear I’m gonna punch Richie in the face if I see him.”

You all muttered ‘see ya’s, and Eddie turned around and resumed his way through the trail. You cursed under your breath and when you heard Bill laughing by your side, you couldn’t help but shove his arm. “Hey! W-what was t-that?” “You’re laughing!” “C-c-course I am! You should see how p-perturbed you look n-now. It’s k-kinda funny!”

You gave Bill a deadly look, but that didn’t completely stop him from laughing. “C-come on, y/n. I k-know you reciprocate him...”Bill said quietly. You wouldn’t deny it. You couldn’t because your heart was raced after hearing Eddie saying all of that, what meant that denying it you’d be lying to your boyfriend, and you’d never do that. "I love you, Bill” it scaped pass your lips, making him scoot closer. “I k-know you d-do. I love you t-too, y/n. And there’s n-nothing wrong with you b-being attracted to Eddie too.” And you knew he was being honest simply by the way his blue eyes met yours.

What happened in the woods soothed Eddie down and he was finally opened with you and Bill again. Even more, you would say.

You didn’t know why, but now it felt like the three of you shared some kind of bond. You were happy that Eddie was stuck to you again, but you felt kinda troubled, though not in a bad way.

Since that day at the Barrens your mind would throw you images about things you knew you shouldn’t think about. You caught yourself daydreaming sometimes, stuff you considered dirty and beyond limits. You constantly remembered Eddie’s sweet smile or Bill’s hungry looks over you. And, for your disgrace, you started thinking a lot about them together.

You tried to bury it inside you the deepest you could, but even your dreams at night started to create scenarios that’d torment you.

And Bill somehow knew what was going on.

He was the one who always knew how to read you the best and after you were together, he just got deeper under your skin. He saw it all coming since the day in the kitchen, only by the way you worried so much about Eddie rejecting you and him, or by the way you started getting all flustered whenever the three of you would share the backseat side by side in Stan's car and you were too close to both of them at the same time.

That was why he started pushing your buttons here and there to see what you were made of. Casually leaning more against you so you were squeezed between him and Eddie, and playfully joking about the whole situation when you were alone, until the day you were both at your empty house, locked in your bedroom. You were laying down, moaning his name softly while he had two fingers moving inside you and his lips sucking your clit. Bill held you down and still, firmly, with his arm around your hips when he pulled away to look at your spacy pleasured face, fingers still pumping slowly.

“So wet for m-me, love... Bet Eddie would love t-the sweet taste of yours just as m-much I do...”

You looked down at him in astonishment, but your body betrayed you, what made Bill smirk ear-to-ear. “I c-can even feel you tightening around m-my fingers...” “Bill...” you whined. “You’re imagining it n-now, aren’t you? Laying against m-my chest while I hold your soft t-thighs apart for Eddie to lick your p-pretty pussy until you c-cum on his lips...”.

That was too much to take. You could perfectly picture Eddie’s eyes on you, feel how gently his tongue would feel while Bill’s strong hands held you on your place for him. The thought made you go over your edge instantly, and you felt your legs tremble as you came on Bill’s fingers, crying out in pleasure. You felt him chuckling when he started kissing your lower stomach as your climax faded. “What the hell, Bill?!” you panted, hitting his shoulder lightly. “Y-you came so fast to t-the thought, holy f-fuck, y/n...”. You knew he wasn’t angry. He sounded delighted, to be fair, and when he rested his chin on your ribs, looking at you, his cocky smile confirmed that but didn’t keep you from feeling ashamed.

“You’re awful” you mumbled, covering your face with your hands, but he just pulled them way, properly getting on top of you and pinning your wrists down to each side of your head.

“We c-could... Share, you know?” he suggested, raising his eyebrow at you underneath him. “Like Stan s-said.”

You bit down your lip for a moment. “It’d be some huge plumper if I told you I didn’t think about it nor even once.” You said, and Bill’s eyes grew dark. “I f-fucking knew it. You’ve b-been fantasizing about us t-together.” “Yeah.” You went straight to the point because something about him pining you down like that had you completely vulnerable.

“D-do you want it?”

“Yes... Do you?

Bill only grinned and leaned in to kiss you.

As the spring slowly turned into summer, the days were warmer and brighter. On that one, specifically, you were sitting on Bill’s desk in a dark green sundress, shuffling a deck of cards in your hands. Eddie was sitting at the edge of the bed, right in front of you, leaning into an old comic book in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

You could tell he wasn’t actually reading, not when every now and then his head would buck up a bit. You knew he was looking at you from under his lashes. Once your dress ran up your thighs when you sat down, a lot of skin was exposed for him to look at. It was not on purpose, but you didn’t mind fixing it anyway.

It’s not like things between you got much heated after Bill gave you the green light, but you just couldn’t repress your will that much anymore, and neither could Eddie. Nor Bill. The truth is you were already fantasizing about Eddie after the Barrens thing, and now it just exploded inside you, and sometimes you cursed to yourself because all you could think was about being taken by him and Bill on the same bed, at the same time. And you knew Bill shared the idea, he had already shown you that he wanted it as much as you did, teasing you and making up dirty scenarios to torture your imagination.

The problem lied on Eddie.

He was so tense when it came to... Stuff like that. You knew that he probably wouldn’t accept well the idea of the... Sharing. So you kept it to yourself and Bill, although you couldn’t help the mutual staring contest between you and the Kaspbrak boy anymore.

“Okay, Richie’s not c-c-coming.” Bill stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, interrupting the mute sexual tension.

“Holy shit, Eddie, can’t you two just stop with all the bickering already?” you chuckled, placing the cards down by your side, once it seemed like you wouldn’t be able to play with only three heads there. Instead, you grabbed the Coke you were casually sipping on.

“Huh, no!” He sat up straight. “Richie was an asshole saying what he said that day, and I don’t take back the promise of beating him up next time he appears in front of me”.

Bill walked over the chair next to you and sat down kinda sideways, his hand casually resting on your thigh while he still could face Eddie.

“E-Eddie, really. We all d-don’t give a f-fuck about the Greta thing...” Eddie tossed the comic aside, starting to blush. “Yeah? Because it didn’t happen to any of you! Y’all are just outta there, fucking like rabbits”.

You choked on your soda while Bill tilted his head back, bursting in laughter.

“Eddie, dear, really... You didn’t feel like having sex with her, jeez! And you were right in the end. She’s... Greta Bowie.” you puckered your nose.

“I chickened out, y/n!”

“Y-you didn’t desire her. T-that’s okay, Eddie. C-calm down!”

You felt Bill’s hand going further on your flesh, squeezing lightly, and you noticed Eddie’s eyes following his moves for a while, almost hypnotized.

“Eddie?” you called. “It’ll do anytime... Just relax”. He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know...”

Bill relaxed back on the chair. “W-why is that?”

“It’s not like I feel hot for a lot of girls around here, Bill.”

Eddie’s eyes met yours right away, and none of you stepped back this time until he looked at Bill with the same intensity. Bill’s hand drifted dangerously closer to your heat now, lifting your dress all the way up to your hips.

“B-but you do feel turned on b-by y/n” Bill didn’t ask, he stated.

“Yes...” Eddie confirmed.

Bill smirked at you and his hand was out of the game.

“Of c-course, look at her,” he said, softly. “Isn’t she b-beautiful, Eddie?”

You tried to act cool like wetness wasn’t already pooling inside your panties due to the hungry way Bill looked at you. So, you just wrapped your lips around the straw, sipping on your Coke once more. Eddie almost choked when you did.

“Stunning...” he muttered.

“Should see when I f-fuck her senseless on t-t-this desk.” Bill whispered.

Eddie’s eyes trailed down your body now, like you caught him doing so many times before. You knew he desired you, and the growing bulge you could see inside his pants just confirmed the facts.

At your right side, Bill was casually sitting on his chair, smirking and looking from Eddie to you, from you to Eddie.

Right at your front, Eddie seemed to be breathing heavily.

You had a wolf and a lamb. And you fucking wanted both.

So you took your turn. You put the half-empty bottle aside, on the desk, and hopped off it, walking over to the bed, where Eddie was sitting very stiffened. You put each of your knees by his sides, straddling him. You could feel him immediately under you when you settled down on his lap, probably hard and aching judging by the way he whined quietly under his breath feeling your hips against his.

“Eddie?”

“Mm?”

“Let me be your first” you whispered looking at him, faces inches away. “Let us be your first” you corrected, looking now at Bill.

Bill had darkened eyes in arousal watching to that, while Eddie had his hooded ones on you, hands going for your hips. You could spot the difference, Bill’s touch was firm, took you over completely, but Eddie’s was so damn soft like he was deeply afraid of hurting you somehow.

“Do you want that?” He whispered back and you smiled. As an answer, all you did was to let your lips brush against his, a soft peck that was enough to make your heart speed up.

When you pulled away Eddie seemed stunned. Both of you immediately turned for Bill, and he had a blank turned on expression you loved. You could already see the outline of his hard cock inside his pants as he palmed it through the fabric.

“Holy f-fuck.” he mumbled, in pure bliss.

You bit down your lips, or else you’d moan right there to that view of him. And you could tell Eddie felt the same by the way he shifted under you.

Bill got up and walked closer, he pulled back a few hair strands that fell on your face, fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder like a permission for something. You glanced back at Eddie and he was not able to hold it back anymore.

You melted into Eddie because kissing him felt better than what you thought it’d be. His lips were soft and he kissed you slowly, one hand now running through your hair. You could hear Bill’s groans next to you as he sat down by Eddie’s side and next thing you know is that they were switching places and Bill’s lips were on yours. Eddie was now focused on kissing down your neck, making you shiver as Bill had a hand on your waist and his tongue dominating yours. Soon enough you were down onto the mattress.

You were soaked, and the way they kept exchanging places all over you only made it worse. You had Eddie’s loving kisses, then Bill’s intense ones, then Eddie’s again. That was wrecking your sanity.

You were pressed in between them, feeling Bill grinding against you from behind, and grinding on Eddie’s thigh once he had a leg between yours, his lips now going for your jawline.

“Holyshit, y/n, holyshit...” he kept whispering, what made Bill chuckle against your shoulder when he nibbled there.

You felt your boyfriend’s tentative fingers going for the little tie on your waist that kept your dress around your body, and you quickly made the first move, pulling Eddie’s shirt over his head. Bill somehow managed to untie your dress and it unfolded off you. You shivered under the thin air, and under Eddie’s heart eyes to your now almost naked figure kind of underneath him.

“As I-I said, Eddie,” Bill’s hand now caressed your hips, playing with your panties' waistline, “b-beautiful...”

Eddie breathed heavily and you felt your cheeks burning pleasantly, his eyes running down your body as he pulled some inches away to look better at you.

“Can I touch you, y/n/n?”

You couldn't help but chuckle at how amazed he sounded. “Of course you can, Edward,” you rolled your eyes playfully before taking his hand and guiding it closer. “I want you to.”

You placed his hand in between your breasts and his breath hitched again. Bill moaned quietly, spooning you while watching as his best friend run his touch down your stomach and up again to gently grope one of your breasts.

You reached behind and slid a hand down Bill’s unbuckled jeans, finding him fully hard and, when you wrapped your fingers around him, he groaned again and sought for your touch. You felt him exhaling against your neck when you traced your thumb around his precome wet tip.

Eddie had his attention split between your body and Bill’s probably very pleased expression, and suddenly he leaned in and took a nipple of yours between his lips, sucking it gently. “Fuck, Eddie...” Bill sounded amazed, and all you could do was let out a not-so-quiet moan.

Eddie sucked and licked each of your breasts and you clenched around nothing, that sweet tension building in your lower abdomen. You ran your fingers through his hair and felt the strawberries scent of his shampoo while leaning back to reach Bill’s peppermint tasting lips. Bill pulled your thighs slightly apart, only enough for his hand to fit in between, his fingertips tracing your clothed slit’s contour, making you roll your hips and moan against him.

You had your nails scratching lightly down Eddie’s chest, feeling his lips going further and further, all the way down your chest and all over your belly. The unexpected contact of his teeth on a spot of your waistline made you whimper loud into Bill’s kiss.

“Holy fuck...” you moaned, and Bill grinned, pulling his hand out of the way.

“E-Eddie?” Eddie hummed in response, looking up. “D-Do you want t-to t-taste her?”

“Yes, please... I mean, do you want me to, y/n/n?”

You nodded, unable to form words to his doe eyes looking up into yours, fingers lingering over your underwear as he was dying inside to take them off. He smiled and Bill left his spot, pulling himself to sit up against the headboard. He quickly got rid of his shirt and patted down the place between his legs. You crawled into his arms, falling back against his chest, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you. Eddie scooted closer and gently pulled your panties off, then Bill splattered his hands on your inner thighs, keeping them apart so Eddie could lay in between them.

The view alone was enough to make you falter and it just got worse when Eddie immediately leaned down on you, dragging his tongue all the way up from your slit to your clit. You moaned, letting your head fall back on Bill’s shoulder as he kissed the sweet spot on your neck that was enough to weaken your knees. You could hear him hissing lowly, probably eagerly watching Eddie eating you out. You’d eye down at him occasionally, but most of the time you could only close your eyes, feeling that agonizing pressure growing inside of you as Eddie’s tongue and lips worked their way. Bill whispered here and there, telling him to go slower or lighter and you knew the bastard was trying to delay you, instructing Eddie to lick you only enough to make you hover your edge.

“Eddie, please...” you whimpered, looking down at him sucking lightly on your clit. Bill echoed by your ear. “G-go ahead, Eds. M-make her cum.”

He sucked harder, tongue then swirling faster and rougher through your folds. He immediately made you come undone on his mouth, your hands pulling the sheets while Bill shushed you.

“Shit, I want to fuck you so bad...”

You smiled at Eddie’s low muttering, sure you looked pretty fucked out now, still panting and clenching alone.

“Do you want me to ride you, Eds? Just like I ride Bill?” you teased.

He nodded frenetically coming up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself through his lips. You perked up and turned slightly to kiss Bill now.

“Let me suck you too, please?” You begged against his lips. Bill’s blue eyes smirked at you in the dirtiest way that made you bit down your lip. “Always, b-babe.”

You were nervous about that, but the three of you seemed to coordinate just perfectly. Bill stood up by the side of the bed and kept a hand through your hair while you pulled his jeans and underwear down. He kicked them aside as you wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before turning for Eddie.

He laid down next to where you were sitting and got rid of his pants. He looked fidgety when it came to him being so exposed to you and Bill, but when you straddled his hips it seemed to vanish away from his thoughts.

You also expected to feel flustered in the middle of all of that, but it was the complete opposite. You had Eddie under you, his little grunts filling your ears as your pussy brushed against his hard cock, and Bill standing up next you, his thumb contouring your lips right before you suck on it.

You felt amazing.

Bill always made you feel like the most beautiful and desired woman on Earth, but that was different. That was a whole new level.

You slowly lowered yourself on Eddie, guiding him into you and feeling him stretching you out since he was more on the thicker side, while Bill had more length. He howled while every inch of him slid into your warmness, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Fuck, y/n, feeling so good...”

You stayed still for a moment, feeling dizzy and adjusting to him as Bill ran his fingers through your hair. You went for his cock, fingers around its base when you caught his wet tip between your lips, making him groan and throw his head slightly back.

You took Bill deeper into your mouth at the same time you started to softly bounce up and down on Eddie. You didn’t know how, but you managed to set up coordinate paces to please both of them, hearing their groaning and cursing filling the room. The smooth sound of your hips against Eddie’s, alongside the slippery one of you lightly choking around Bill was the most sinful thing you ever heard.

You found out you loved it way too much.

“Such a g-good g-girl, y/n/n. So g-good for us, b-babe” Bill praised, looking down at you fucking one of his best friends. You were clenching so tightly around Eddie, making him moan out loud, grabbing handfuls of your ass as he watched you sucking Bill so skillfully.

Your legs started to weaken, so Eddie thrust up into, and you suddenly reached your high again. You moaned around Bill’s cock and the way he kept his hips from thrusting into your mouth was enough for you to know he was holding himself back. Eddie, on the other hand, kept fucking into you through your peak and a few moves later, when you pulled away from Bill for a sec, he released inside you. Eddie’s eyes shut closed as he came, his lips parting while you still moved your hips slightly around.

"Holy fuck, holy fuck...” he kept humming.

You looked up at Bill and no words were needed. You slid down to Eddie’s side just for Bill to come for you, pulling your legs up and apart, pressing your thighs against his chest while the slid into you giving no time for adjustment. You still felt Eddie’s cum inside when Bill started to pound against, hard and deep, making you whimper due to how sensitive you felt now.

Didn’t take long until you earned yourself another orgasm, this time around Bill, just a few thrusts before he groaned loudly and pulled off, coming all over your thighs. All of that while Eddie still breathed heavily by your side and grinned at both of you. Your whole body trembled when Bill left you and fell onto the bed. The three of you just stayed like that, laying side by side, panting and occasionally cursing under your breaths.

“Y/n/n, are you okay?” You heard Eddie whispering by your left.

You couldn’t help smiling to the ceiling hearing the sweet worried tone of his.

“Totally okay, Eddie Spaghetti.” You answered, and Bill laughted by your right side. “What about you? Are you okay?”

You tilted your head just in time to see him rolling his eyes at the nickname he hated so much, but still, he smiled back at you.

“More than okay. Bill?”

You turned at him now, and he had his eyes closed and a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Am-m-mazing.” he said, peacefully.

You chuckled at his expression and sat up, looking around for your forgotten dress and underwear. “W-what are you d-doing?” Bill mumbled and you recognized the sleepy post-sex tone of his. “Gotta clean up, I'll be right back.”

You grabbed your clothes and walked over to the door. You peeked outside for a moment, but the quiet hallway indicated the house was still empty, so you made your way to the bathroom. You didn’t mind closing the door while you leaned back against the sink and cleaned Bill’s cum off your inner thighs with a smirk on your face, trying your best to pull yourself together even if you still felt Eddie’s inside you and your legs trembled way too much.

You slid your panties on again and put on the dress again, tying it tightly around your waist. When you turned to face the mirror, you had messed up sex hair, kiss-bruised lips, red cheeks, and some slightly red marks all over your neck and chest that you couldn’t tell who they belonged to.

“D-did we mess you up t-t-too much?”

Bill appeared at the doorway when you were running your fingers over a fresh hickey right under your collarbone, pulling his shirt down his head, pants on again. You smiled softly, approaching him.

“Just the perfect amount.”

Bill smiled down at you, pushing back some hair strands of yours before kissing you softly, just the way he’d kiss you after you two had pretty rough sex. When you parted away, Eddie was leaving Bill’s bedroom, buckling his pants up, his whole face still red.

He looked up at you and Bill, and you all stared at each other for a while, before bursting in laughter. You went for him and said nothing before scooting closer and kissing him too, a sloppy kiss while he smiled against your lips, hands on your waist.

When you pulled away, he scratched the back of his head, looking even more flustered than before, but blissful.

"Y'all swear the others won't hear about what happened here." He said.

"Never!" You and Bill answered in unison and he went ahead. "It'll b-be our secret, E-Eds."

That made your grin mischievously at both of them, already very fond of the soreness you were feeling between your thighs cause you knew you'd feel it more from that day on. You walked past Bill, to the stairs, your stomach roaring lowly.

You could hear Eddie muttering to Bill as they followed you downstairs. "Although I'd pay to see Richie's face if he heard about our Sharing."

#it imagine #it fanfic #it fanfiction #it smut #bill denbrough fic #bill denbrough imagine #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #eddie kaspbrak fic #eddie kaspbrak imagine #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak smut #the losers club imagines #the losers club x reader #bill denbrough x reader x eddie kaspbrak #the losers club smut #beauregardwrites

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notapaladin · 3 years ago

Text

they say before you start a war (you'd better know what you're fighting for) (redux)

“I will just expand Acatl’s part a bit,” I said. “I’m not totally thrilled with the ending,” I said. “This will be a quick project,” I said.

FIVE THOUSAND WORDS LATER...y’all get this. Tizoc successfully executes Acatl during Harbinger of the Storm, and Teomitl will do anything to bring him back. Including hand over his own soul.

Original version here.

Also on AO3.

His knees hurt, and the stone under them was cold. It was an absurd detail to focus on when he was bound hand and foot with the executioner looping a garrote around two meaty fists next to him, but that was what stuck in Acatl’s mind. He was going to die, and his knees hurt. And, to add insult to injury, he was going to go to his death with his hair badly in need of a wash and something stuck in his back teeth. He prodded it with his tongue. It didn’t help at all.

He took one deep breath. Another. Any one could be his last. He was careful to keep them deep and even; he would not die sobbing and hyperventilating, begging for mercy. Though it be jade, it is crushed; though it be precious gold, it crumbles. For we do not live forever on this earth, but only for a little while.

A hand in his hair yanked his head up, and the cord came to rest loosely around his neck. He took another breath. Mihmatini. Teomitl. I’m sorry.

If only he’d had more time. His siblings would mourn him, he knew, but they knew he loved them. He’d said all he needed to say there. Teomitl was a different story. When he’d first agreed to teach him the magic of living blood, he’d never expected to feel so strongly for him. True, he’d grown fond of him quickly, but that had been very nearly against his will. His heart had been locked up so tightly for so long that the first crack in the stone had felt like the walls of the Sacred Precinct crumbling around him. At first, it had been terrifying. Over the past year, however...

Well. He didn’t think he could rightly call his feelings fondness anymore. Teomitl was stubborn as a rock and prickly as a cactus, but more and more Acatl had felt something soften like wax in his chest whenever he looked at him. Pride? Affection? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it made his heart beat faster. That Teomitl’s radiant smile always brought an answering one to his own face. That when Teomitl looked even the slightest bit disappointed, the urge to pull him into his arms was near-overwhelming. That Teomitl was the most beautiful young man he’d ever seen. And now it would forever be a mystery. Now he would die, and Teomitl would never know that he might...he might...

His heart hammered against its prison of ribs, twisting nauseatingly as the realization struck. I might be in love. And I can never tell him.

Now his eyes were burning with unshed tears, and he forced them back with pure effort of will. This was a good thing. Teomitl was his student, a dozen years his junior, and courting his sister. There was no way he’d react well to learning his teacher had conceived a passion for him. He would die before he could be tempted to reveal what he’d learned and ruin the relationship they’d so painstakingly built. Teomitl would never be burdened with that knowledge. If he survived this, he would marry Mihmatini without guilt, and they would have a dozen children. Acatl could picture them now.

“And so the traitor falls.”

Oh, Duality preserve him. Instead of trying to fill his mind with calming thoughts of his family or his god, he was going to spend his last moments on earth listening to Tizoc gloat. Of all the indignities heaped upon him, this was one he knew he didn’t deserve. Somehow, he found words enough to snarl, “Hurry up.” It came out as a slurred rasp.

Tizoc smirked at him. He shut his eyes, but he could still hear the smug glee in his voice. It made him want to be sick. Throwing up on Tizoc’s sandals would even be satisfying; too bad the bastard was out of the likely splash zone. “And which of us is on his knees, priest? Which of us has betrayed the Mexica Empire with his words and deeds? It surely isn’t me; you know I’ve always worked for the good of Tenochtitlan, despite your efforts to obstruct my path. I do hope you’ll find an ample reward for your pains in the hereafter.”

There was more after that, but Acatl wasn’t paying attention. The cord was starting to draw tight. One more breath. Another. The darkness behind his eyelids was starting to flash. Another breath—no—he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t breathe. He bucked and jolted instinctively, eyes fluttering open in time to catch blurred images of Quenami and the She-Snake watching him; if he’d had his hands free, he knew he would be clawing his fingers to ribbons against the tough cord.

I can’t—

He needed air. He needed air and there wasn’t any, he was choking, he was going to die—

It wouldn’t be Tlalocan that awaited him, he knew, despite the manner of his death. A High Priest could go no other place than the realm of their patron. After this, he rather thought it would be a relief. At least in Mictlan, he could rest. Lord Death was always fair. Lord Death would let him fade the way his body was stubbornly refusing to.

No. It’s over. It’s over. I’m—only hurting myself—

His eyes snapped open as a twist of the cord sliced into his throat, feeling the sting and the trickle of upwelling blood. The sun blazed down, bathing the courtyard in light. For a moment, he could focus—there was Tizoc smirking, and there was Quenami with a twist to his mouth—but then the darkness flooded his vision again, and though he kept his eyes open he saw nothing.

This was it, then. He thought he should probably be afraid; maybe it was the lack of air that was making it so difficult for him to struggle. His limbs felt like stones, the hammering of his heart echoing like a drum through his ribcage.

The cord bit deep, but it no longer hurt.

He couldn’t feel his own limbs or heartbeat anymore. Soon, he couldn’t feel the cord either. Here at the end, there were no prayers to Lord Death he could offer. But then, he’d be seeing Him soon enough. He hoped Ichtaca wouldn’t be too overworked.

As he faded, he thought he heard the ahuitzotls’ song. And then...

Darkness.

Acatl’s knives burned at Teomitl’s hips, sending bile up into his throat and frozen emptiness down into his stomach, but they hadn’t yet damaged Huitzilopochtli’s wards woven over his skin and so he welcomed the pain. It was agony, but it spurred him onwards. He couldn’t afford to slow down or lose his focus, not even for an instant. Even that much of a delay would be too much time in which Acatl was in mortal danger. If he was late...

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he was late. Part of him cursed Nezahual; if he hadn’t run out of power merely getting them out and finding them a boat, they’d have Quetzalcoatl’s magic to speed them on their way. Southern Hummingbird blind him, they’d probably even be safe by now. He could at this instant have been on a boat to safety in Tlacopan or Texcoco or gods, anywhere in the sea-ringed world as long as Acatl was in his arms. Instead there was only him and the ahuitzotls, who were still fast on land but not fast enough. He wished desperately that he’d been blessed by Mixcoatl instead, Lord of the Hunt, but there was no helping that now.

Instead, he prayed to them all, hoping desperately that fervor would make up for not daring to stop and offer his own blood. Gods, please. Please, I’ll build so many temples, I’ll cover you in gold, the blood of eagles, the hearts of jaguars—just let me save him.

They didn’t answer. He kept running. Down the corridor, through one room and another, turning when the sparks of Acatl’s knives sang close, close, and then he was bursting through the entrance curtain and for a heartstopping second he couldn’t move.

There was his brother, smug grin slipping into surprise as he registered the interruption. There was Quenami, backing away with his empty hands raised as though that would save him. There was the swirl of a black cloak around the far corner—the She-Snake, fleeing like a coward. There were even a few guards, looking panicked as they drew their weapons. And in the center of the courtyard was the executioner loosening his garrote to let Acatl fall bonelessly to the ground, eyes blank and unseeing. Dead. Dead. He didn’t need the rattling chill of the knives to tell him that.

No. No. Nonononono—

Teomitl’s mind was a whirlwind of horror and pain, but he’d been in enough campaigns now that his body knew exactly what to do. He couldn’t feel his hands, but that didn’t matter.

He drew his sword and opened himself to Chalchiuhtlicue’s power.

It felt like being at the bottom of the lake; it always did, but this time the water numbed him. He saw the world through lake water, through the eddying rush of a streambed. His heart pulsed like ripples on the shore. When he breathed, he tasted algae; inside his head, the ahuitzotls’ song rose in a chorus, threatening to drown out his thoughts.

In Tlalocan, the Verdant Land, we hunt In Tlalocan, the Verdant Land, we consume...

He sucked in a hard, painful breath and wrestled them back into submission. It had been harder since Axayacatl’s death, when his world had tilted; now that it was entirely inside-out, shattered irreparably, it was nearly impossible. He might not have managed it if he hadn’t given them their favorite command. Kill. Kill them.

They leapt to obey. He was only vaguely aware of their rush forward; the executioners and guards screamed as his beasts descended on them in a flood of snapping teeth and grasping claws, but he didn’t bother pitching in. The ahuitzotls had them well in hand. He tasted blood in his own mouth, felt the slick red heat of flesh tearing under his own claws—no, hands. He had hands, and they held a sword. And he had a job to do. The rabble didn’t matter. Even when one took a swing at him, he parried it without looking; all his attention was on Tizoc.

Tizoc, who had just slain Acatl. Tizoc, who was unarmed. Tizoc, who was trying to speak, as though anything he said could possibly bring Acatl back, could undo what he’d done.

“So you have betrayed me!” It sounded like it was coming from underwater.

It was just possible that, if he’d been contrite, he might have earned a few more seconds of life. Unlikely, but possible. But this? This—vindication, as though he was saying he’d been right, and he’d die being right? Teomitl inhaled sharply, feeling it scorch his lungs. “No.”

And then he swung his sword in an upward arc, feeling it cleave flesh and bone; something snapped off in Tizoc’s sternum on the way to the heart, but that was alright. He’d fix it later. Hot blood sprayed his face as Tizoc screamed and screamed and screamed, and some knot in his chest eased. Now I’ve betrayed you. It would take him a good, long time to die.

He turned away, lifting his head. The executioner and both guards were down, ahuitzotls feasting messily and adding the stench of entrails to the heavy odor of blood. They’d left a space around...around Acatl, and ice threatened to flood his veins. I’ve failed. Acatl, I’ve failed you. He wanted to crumple in on himself, wanted to curl around Acatl’s corpse and weep like a child. If he’d been minutes earlier, Acatl would still be alive. Avenging him, killing Tizoc—he knew, deep in his soul, that Acatl would have urged him not to. He would have urged him to consider the strength of the Mexica Empire and his own safety. Now he never would again. Grief rose like knives in his throat.

But he couldn’t give in to it, not yet; there was one foe in the courtyard he hadn’t yet accounted for. He could just make out Quenami huddling frozen and wide-eyed half behind a pillar, frantically trying to trace a glyph on the ground. He recognized the words of a spell on his lips, but that didn’t deter him. It would never be cast. He remembered the sight of a blade at Acatl’s throat with a sharp, sick swell of rage. Quenami had had the nerve to smile when dragging Acatl to his death. Teomitl would carve that smile from his face.

Water flowed around him even this far from the lake, washing Tizoc’s blood from his skin and lending him speed as he charged, sword raised. Quenami was frozen in fear, he could simply cleave his head from his shoulders and that would end it—

Again, he was too late. The strike slammed against glittering golden wards raised in the nick of time; as they spiderwebbed, a wordless scream tore its way free of his throat. His ahuitzotls screamed with him, abandoning their meals to circle this new target. He swung again, and the wards broke.

Quenami’s voice wavered—rank terror, not the ripples of Jade Skirt’s magic in his ears. If Tizoc’s death throes hadn’t died down to gurgling whimpers, he might not have heard it. “My lord...Teomitl-tzin, please!”

Please, he says. Rage threatened to choke him. Only his own self-control kept his hand steady, but the obsidian edge of his macuahuitl was pressed into Quenami’s neck just shy of drawing blood and it was extremely tempting to press harder. He wasn’t sure why he hesitated.

No, that was a lie. He knew why. Because Acatl, damn him, would have cautioned him against reckless slaughter. Would have warned him about the boundaries, about the safety of the Fifth World, about the godsdamned star demons trying to devour them all. If Coyolxauhqui truly was controlling them somehow, they would need the High Priest of Huitzilopochtli no matter what he’d done. But Acatl wasn’t here anymore to gainsay him, was he?

Would you have listened if Acatl had begged for his life? If he had asked to be spared, before you slew him? “Why? Why should I let you live?” His hand was still steady, but his voice shook. He would not cry in front of this bastard, this dog’s son who had torn his heart from him. He would not. Acatl is dead. He is dead, and it’s because of you. I will carve out your heart for his funeral pyre.

Quenami swallowed hard, meeting his eyes. Blood trickled down his neck from where the edge of the sword bit into his flesh. There was fear in his face, yes, but also a stone-hard resolve. “I can bring him back.”

He took an unconscious step backwards, feeling the edges of his grief crumble under the first light touch of hope. If he’s telling the truth. If...I could have Acatl back...

“...Speak.”

Quenami spoke. Indeed, once he was no longer in immediate danger it was difficult to get him to stop. There was a ritual, apparently; a secret passed down through Huitzilopochtli’s clergy from one High Priest to the next. Often it involved making a body of maize and amaranth dough, but given that Acatl’s remains were all in one piece they would be able to dispense with that step. All they would need to do—a trifle, really—was go down into Mictlan and convince Lord Death to relinquish Acatl’s soul. The hardest part would be opening the way, for which Quenami ordinarily required the other High Priests. Given the present circumstances, Ichtaca and the Guardian of the Duality would need to stand in for Acatl—Ichtaca for his connection to the underworld, and Mihmatini for raw power.

Mihmatini. Thinking of her brought another pang to Teomitl’s heart. They’d made plans to send her away for her own safety, but she hadn’t left for Popocatepetl yet. She would have to be informed of her brother’s death and the part she would play in his resurrection. Teomitl doubted it would comfort her much. It certainly wasn’t comforting him.

Acatl was dead. Teomitl had slashed the bonds around his cold limbs and closed his sightless eyes with shaking hands, cursing himself all the while that this was the tenderest touch he could offer, here where it no longer mattered. He should have spoken up when he had the chance, but what had he done instead? Picked stupid fights, clung blindly to his faith in the older brother who had once been admirable, failed to see the kind of man Tizoc was until it was far too late. If this works, he thought, I will lay the full truth of my heart at your feet and beg for your forgiveness.

Other people handled the cleanup after the slaughter, but that wasn’t Teomitl’s concern. He stood on the sidelines and watched as they gathered up the bodies and cleaned up the blood. There were questions. The She-Snake and the rest of the council showed up to answer them, with many sidelong glances in his direction. He hadn’t yet bothered to wash the blood from his skin. It seemed unnecessary.

Eventually Nezahual strode in, directing his warriors to place themselves at Tenochtitlan’s disposal. As he strode over to Teomitl’s darkened corner, Teomitl looked up from his idle study of the tops of his sandals to meet his eyes. Certainty filtered through the numbness. If he gives his condolences, I’m going to stab him.

“Teomitl.”

He held up a hand. “Don’t.” Not that he’d had enough bloodshed—Acatl was dead, he could float the city on a lake of blood and it still wouldn’t be enough—but if this worked, Acatl would probably be upset with him for maiming an allied Revered Speaker. Even if it was terribly, terribly tempting.

“I wasn’t going to.” But the way Nezahual’s eyes widened suggested he’d been thinking it.

“Good.”

Unfortunately, Teomitl’s curtness didn’t make the little bastard leave. No, instead he took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Is it true what I’m hearing? That Quenami can restore him to life?”

His heart gave a hard, painful lurch in his chest. He’d been trying not to think about that. Quenami had sounded so certain, but what if that was only self-preservation? What if he was only telling Teomitl what he wanted to hear? No, he thought finally. He wasn’t desperate enough for that. At least, not after Teomitl had taken the sword away from his throat. “He says it is.”

“Hmm. Hmmm.” Nezahual glanced away, stroking his chin. Teomitl forbore mentioning that it was an incredibly stupid-looking gesture on a youth who couldn’t grow a proper beard yet. Finally, he looked back at him and in a quiet, serious voice asked, “Can I help?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?” You had your chance, and your strength ran out when you might have prevented this. Do you think I’ll let you fuck it up again? Somehow, he managed to keep that behind his teeth.

Nezahual hesitated. “...I confess to feeling...somewhat responsible for Acatl’s current situation. I would not have this drive a wedge between us.”

Teomitl sucked in a hard breath. “No.”

“No?” He tilted his head like a snake, eyes just as cold.

Maybe it was stupid of him to rebuff him. No, he knew it was stupid, and he didn’t care. He could apologize later when his chest wasn’t full of knives. Right now, the idea of spending any more time in Nezahual’s presence made him want to kill something. Mihmatini and the priests would be strong enough. They’d pull Acatl’s soul out of Mictlan themselves. “You’ve done enough,” he spat.

Before it could deteriorate further, he spun on his heel and stalked away. Tears stung the corners of his eyes. He picked up the pace, almost running through the palace. Servants and nobles alike took one look at him and nearly dove out of his way—a good thing, because he wasn’t stopping. Anger and grief turned a tight whirlpool in his chest, keeping him on his feet. If he stopped to dwell on it, he would fall apart. He couldn’t do that yet. When Acatl is alive, he thought. When he breathes again, I’ll let myself remember this day.

Mihmatini waited for him in the Duality House. He was struck by how normal she looked, surrounded by slaves and underlings. The sun shone down upon her, clear and bright—it was a beautiful day, when there should be storms to match the one in his heart—and she wore a sleeveless blouse embroidered with flowers. Looking at her, he might almost think the world was alright again.

“I...” he began, and stopped. Just that one word was already bringing tears to his eyes.

She got to her feet, searching his face for something she didn’t find. Her own expression crumbled, but her voice was shockingly steady as she asked, “Acatl?”

He shook his head mutely.

“...So it’s true,” she whispered, and threw herself into his arms.

He held her tightly enough that it had to hurt, but she only wrapped her arms around him and shook silently, without tears. Somehow that made it worse; if she’d sobbed, he might have been able to wipe them away and feel a little more useful. Instead he buried his face in her hair, shut his eyes, and focused on his breathing. In. Out. In again. Slowly. No hyperventilating, or he would be the one weeping. And if he started, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop. Again he reminded himself, Not yet.

Finally she sucked in a noisy breath and released him, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with the back of her hand. I should have taken Tizoc apart piece by piece. Out loud, he said, “We need to talk.” Her entire body jolted, and he belatedly thought he could have phrased that better. “It’s not bad. It’s about—him.” He still couldn’t manage Acatl’s name.

She inhaled slowly and nodded, meeting his gaze. “I’ll take you to a private chamber. Follow me.”

He followed.

The room she led him to was bare and impersonal, with a colorful pattern on the wall he was far too unfocused to make out. The only thing that mattered was the expression on Mihmatini’s face—grief-tight, with eyes like flint. He couldn’t find words at first; when he did, he was surprised at how steady he sounded. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. “Quenami says he can be brought back. There’s a ritual. To—to pull his soul out of Mictlan and place it back in his body again. We need you.”

She stared at the floor. He saw her fists clench, knuckles going white in the folds of her skirt. “And you trust him?”

“No.” Not even as far as I can throw him. He took a breath and continued, “But it’s all we have. I...I was too late to save him, Mihmatini, I saw him fall.” Then his voice did break, and he shut his mouth before it could turn into a sob. Acatl’s skin had been so cold.

Mihmatini closed her eyes. “How...?”

He saw it again in his mind’s eye, that horrible ring around Acatl’s throat. The words floated up from far away. “...The flower garland.”

She took a slow, deep breath. He felt the magic of the Duality pulse within her, the thread connecting them flaring up like a line of fire. “Acatl wouldn’t want anyone to go through that. But if this fails...if it’s some sort of trap...I’m twisting the rope around Quenami’s neck myself.”

Some things never changed. He found he could breathe a little easier. “It won’t fail. It can’t. But if it does, you’ll have to. I killed the executioner.”

“And your brother.”

There was no judgment in that voice, but he felt something twist in his chest anyway. His nails bit into his palms as he snarled, “Acatl died of Tizoc’s—of his paranoia and incompetence! He killed him, as surely as if he’d done it with his own two hands. I’d do it over and over and be glad about it!” The emotion was too much. He had to shut his mouth, chest heaving. I wish I’d taken my time about it. See how many parts I could remove before he died.

Mihmatini was watching him, eyes shrewd. “You love my brother, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

For a shameful heartbeat, he thought of lying. Like a brother, he could say. Or, Of course, he’s my honored teacher. But he knew there was no use—Mihmatini’s words and tone had made it all too clear that she’d looked at him and seen straight to the core of his heart. He couldn’t deny it. Not when Acatl was dead and she was here, waiting for him to speak truthfully. He could give her nothing else.

Dropping his gaze to the mat and feeling his face catch fire, he whispered, “...I do. I’m sorry.”

She frowned at him. “For what?”

The question was so unexpected that for a moment all he could do was gape at her. Horror. Anger. A broken heart. He’d expected any one of those reactions. There was simply no good way to tell the woman you might marry that you were in love with her brother, not and still keep her in your life. And he liked Mihmatini—as a friend, if nothing else. He’d been looking forward to marriage and raising their children together, even though the secret he’d harbored would surely tear them apart if he let it slip. But she’d neither struck at him nor burst into tears, and so—at a loss for words—he spluttered, “I—you—he’s your brother—”

She sat back. Whatever she saw in his expression made her face relax into something less precarious than it had been. “I can share. If you think you can make him happy.”

“...I can try.” The wise thing would probably be to reassure her that she would always have the first place in his heart, but he wasn’t sure if that had ever been true. A sizeable chunk, certainly. But the first place had been reserved for Acatl since the moment the man had first bandaged his wounds after a lesson, hands cool and gentle, and he couldn’t see that changing. Acatl made him want to be stronger. More patient. Better. The least he could do in response would be to gladden the man’s heart. Once it beats again.

The frown was back. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I. Uh.” The vow he’d sworn suddenly felt like a much more uncertain thing. There’s no way he feels the same. Does he? What if he hates me for it? But Mihmatini knows her brother; she wouldn’t suggest if she thought it would bring him pain... He chewed hard on the inside of his gold lip plug, but for once the action didn’t help.

By the way she looked at him, his distress was obvious, but her voice held no pity or scorn. Thank the gods. “You should.”

He squared his shoulders and met her eyes. “I will.” They would bring Acatl back. He would breathe again, smile again, walk under the sun with his family again. And Teomitl would lay his heart at his feet, and if he was fortunate—please the Duality, let him be fortunate!—Acatl would pick it up. He refused to favor the idea of any other outcome with so much as a passing thought.

“Good.” Now she was almost smiling, and some pain-tightened corner of his heart relaxed. “He deserves that. He deserves...so much.” For a terrifying second her voice sounded watery, but then she squared her chin and added, “But you’ll do.”

It took a moment for him to register it as a dry attempt at humor, and the chuckle that came out had more in common with a sob. Oh, Mihmatini. What would we do without you?

She took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes. “Take me to Quenami. Whatever this ritual needs, I’ll do it.” After a moment she added, “And please don’t let me kill him until after we’re done.”

That settled it. If she’d still have him after all this, he was definitely marrying her.

The ritual needed a great many things. Acatl’s corpse needed to be washed and laid out—straight, not curled for a burial—and a suitable space prepared. Mictlantecuhtli’s temple handled that, watched over by a gray-faced and nearly silent Ichtaca in full regalia. Not Acatl’s, thank the gods, but something with almost as many owl feathers and clicking bone beads. Slaves brought the beasts they would need to sacrifice; Quenami moved gingerly among them, tallying cages of owls and hummingbirds and a huge, ill-tempered heron. Mihmatini carried armfuls of flowers for the Duality, the orange of marigolds and the red blossoms of plumeria the only color in the room.

Teomitl had never been in the temple’s innermost sanctum before, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about his surroundings when a single wrong move might put Acatl beyond his reach forever. He stood by, forcing himself not to fidget as the fog of centuries of Mictlan’s magic sizzled against his skin. It very much did not care for the residue of Huitzilopochtli’s wards, even though those had been ritually removed to make his job easier. Across the room stood Neutemoc, who hadn’t spoken a word since arriving with Mihmatini nearly an hour ago. At least there was one other person who would much rather be fighting a dozen star demons at once than standing here waiting. There was very little he could do; it was up to Quenami to sacrifice the hummingbirds and trace the glyph for Four Jaguar while Acamapichtli did the same with the heron and the glyphs for Four Water and Four Rain. Ichtaca, knife in hand, took care of the owls and Four Wind. Four glyphs for the worlds that had come before, and living blood to bind them all into the spell. Finally Mihmatini stepped forward, slashed her earlobes, and added her blood and the flowers to their work.

Quenami had the job of cutting a circle into the floor to enclose the space. He paused, gaze sweeping the room—how dare he, they couldn’t afford to waste time—and lighting on Teomitl’s face, heedless of his furious glare. Someone had bandaged the cut on his neck. “Only one of you can go into Mictlan. This is not my realm, and I cannot widen the path. It can’t be Ichtaca; he needs to hold the way for us here.”

Teomitl didn’t need to think about it. “I’ll go.”

Another voice echoed his; confused, he looked up to see Neutemoc take a step forward, face set with grim determination. He met Teomitl’s eyes as he continued, “He’s my little brother.”

“He’s my—” Friend seemed inadequate, teacher too base. Beloved was something he couldn’t allow himself to think lest he break. It was easier, safer, to reach for other justifications, and they came easily to him in the memory of Mazatl’s curious hands and Ollin’s gummy smile. “What of your children, if this fails? Will you leave them orphans? Stay here, and let me bring Acatl-tzin back.”

Neutemoc studied him for a long moment, searching for something in his face. Eventually he seemed to find it and stepped back with a satisfied nod. “You’d better.”

As Quenami knelt to close the circle, Teomitl moved to take his prescribed position kneeling by Acatl’s head. He didn’t look down. He couldn’t bear to see that face waxy and still, not now.

A dog’s throat was slit, and the hymns began. He let the words wash over him; as the chants rolled on, the world around him started to fall away. Mindful of instructions, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling the temperature drop. The air took on the stale smell of a thousand years of dust and the reek of decay, acidic emptiness scouring the back of his throat. He had a moment to be glad he hadn’t eaten anything, and then his head was swimming too much for him to think. The only thing anchoring him to life was his heartbeat, steady and strong.

Beat.

Beat. He was weightless, floating.

Beat.

A cold, wet nose nudged his palm, and he opened his eyes to a field of black stone, gray dust, and a sky precisely one shade lighter. The dog that had been sacrificed was sitting in front of him, tail sending up little clouds every time it thumped. There was wet crimson blood in its yellow fur, colors leaching to gray in light that seemed to come from nowhere and cast indifferent shadows.

It trotted off. He followed.

He very quickly lost track of how long he’d been walking. There were no landmarks here; he was walking the same path Acatl’s soul had walked at the moment of his death, and a High Priest didn’t have to contend with the rivers of blood and plain of knives that the common rabble did. Part of him was disappointed, for at least it would have been some measure of progress. The rest of him knew he wouldn’t have made it through so much as an overly deep puddle. He’d thought carrying Acatl’s knives was bad, but it was nothing to actually walking through Lord Death’s realm.

The air sapped all joy and hope from his soul, leaving only the grim certainty that he had to keep going. Even anger was too much effort; the heat of it was simply no match for the gnawing emptiness in his chest and the tremor in his limbs. Tears welled in his eyes, but he was too listless to blink and let them fall. Cold seeped through his veins and slowed his heart.

At least he could still feel it beating. He could take some comfort in that. Acatl, wait for me. I’m coming for you.

The dog seemed to know where it was going. Though obsidian shards bit through his sandals and bloodied his feet, they left no marks on its paws. He kept walking, one foot in front of the other; blood was a small price to pay for Acatl’s soul. He would offer his heart if he thought it would help. There was nothing else he could do for him now.

But oh, he was so cold. He was cold, and shivering sounded like too much work. Maybe he should rest for a while—yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea. There was a rock up ahead that had twisted itself into something vaguely like a tree, perfect to lean on.

He staggered towards it, slipping in his own blood, and fell facedown in the dust. It hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to care; the relief of letting the earth support his body was too great. Acatl could wait a little longer, surely. Surely...

Teeth fastened in his wrist, pain jangling up his arm. His eyes snapped open on instinct, free hand going for the sword he wasn’t wearing before he realized it was the dog tugging pointedly at his forearm with a growl that seemed to say, If you aren’t going to walk to Lord Death’s throne, then I will drag you there. It let him pull his arm free and stand up, but kept up its low, discontented rumble.

He felt like growling himself. Fool that I am, how could I have forgotten? I can rest later.

They walked on. His wrist throbbed in time with the beat of his heart, tethering him to the world and to his mission. He would not fail. The road stretched on before him, and all he had to do was keep walking. One step. Another. Another. His sandals were soaked with blood, making him slip; annoyed, he kicked them off and continued on. He’d walk forever if he had to.

And then the ground shifted, warped, folded, and he stood before a dais made of bones where the world was filled with rot and ashes.

Somehow, he’d expected a temple; instead, Mictlantecuhtli’s and Mictecacihuatl’s thrones looked as though they’d grown out of the ground. Bundles of femurs formed the low arms, and the seats were made of a collection of pelvises bound with curved jawbones. Lord and Lady Death lounged side by side, watching him with an expression of amused indulgence on their sunken, skeletal faces. Like I’m a dog that might be taught to perform clever tricks, he thought without much heat. He knew he should probably bow. He couldn’t make his knees bend.

Mictecacihuatl tilted Her head, studying him. “Well, well. What brings you to Our throne, little mortal?”

He’d never been good at speeches. It was something he’d been meaning to study, especially if he meant to move up through the ranks, but now there was no time. Besides, if They were like Acatl, They’d appreciate plain language more. “Acatl-tzin. Your High Priest. Where is he?”

“Ah.” She met Her husband’s eyes, and they shared a long look. She settled back on her throne, a fan of scapulas sprouting up behind Her, and said, “We have taken him into Our home, as is Our right and privilege. He has assumed his proper place at the foot of Our throne.” She gestured expansively, and he followed the movement to something he hadn’t noticed before.

There, just in front of and between the two thrones, was a tiny, fluttering moth under a thin dome of dust and air. He felt his heart stutter in his chest. “Acatl.” A wild thought seized him—grab him and run—but he knew he wouldn’t get far in Mictlantecuhtli’s domain. He’d be lucky even to feel the brush of wings against his skin.

He spun back to meet the gods’ gazes. “My Lady, My Lord, please reconsider. The Fifth World needs him back. We can’t—” The star demons. The boundaries. My empire. “We’ll fall without him.”

“Worlds have fallen before.” Mictlantecuhtli drummed His fingers on the arm of His throne, bone clattering on bone. “We have endured. We will always endure. Why should We give up such a loyal and well-beloved High Priest only to run the risk of him being killed again?”

Because I won’t let it happen again. Ever. He blinked dry eyes, feeling them prickle with dust. His eyes darted to where Lord and Lady Death sat on Their thrones, desiccated fingers almost touching. Even in their most formal attitudes, They leaned ever so slightly towards each other. Slowly, the words came to him. “Of all the gods, You know love best. My Lord...if My Lady were taken from You...”

“All existence would know My wrath until She was returned.” Mictlantecuhtli’s voice had all the finality of the grave, and Teomitl watched as His hand moved to cover His wife’s. “And is this why you are here, begging for Our priest’s life to be restored? For love?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I never got to tell him.” It came out in a breath, barely audible over the breeze.

The gods shared another long look. Teomitl didn’t dare move. He willed his heart to beat quieter, lest it disturb them. The gulf in his chest howled.

Finally, Mictlantecuhtli spoke. “We will release him into your care.” Teomitl thought His skull face was attempting a smile. It was a terrible thing to see on a face that was mostly bone and dried skin. “But there will be a price for you.”

“I’ll pay it.” Here, at last, there was no room for doubt or hesitation. Whatever You want of me. Anything. My heart? My body? My life? It will be Yours. Just let me walk with Acatl out of here, let me set him back in his body and tell him how I love him.

“Brave boy.” The ash rose, nearly blinding him; when it cleared, the little moth was fluttering gently in front of his face. “You may take Our High Priest’s soul, and settle it back in his living flesh, and it will be like he never died. But upon your death, though you may die in glorious battle, you will take his place here.”

He cupped his hands around Acatl’s soul, feeling its tiny feet alight on his fingers. His heart felt full to bursting. He is here. He’s here. We did it. “As you wish, My Lord—my Lady.”

Mictecacihuatl snorted, waving Her hand. “You have what you came for. Be off with you, feather of the Hummingbird.”

Feather of the—? “Wait,” he began, but before he could even formulate a question there was a quincunx shimmering into being under his feet. For a long moment he knew nothing, was nothing, and then he was falling through ash again and back into the temple sanctum.

Beat.

Between one heartbeat and the next, he was present in his own skin. It felt too warm and too tight after his sojourn in Mictlan, breath rasping through his lungs, but he was kneeling by Acatl’s head and holding his soul in his hands so nothing else mattered. He could die immediately, and still nothing else would matter.

No, that wasn’t true. He still had to tell Acatl how he felt.

“Did it—?“

“Teomitl!”

He ignored the outcry around him. Instead he lowered his hands to Acatl’s mouth, letting the moth fly out to brush against Acatl’s lips where it disappeared in a brief, soundless burst of air. For an excruciating moment nothing happened, and despair threatened to drag him under. Is there more? Have we failed after all?

And then life flooded Acatl’s skin, and he took a slow, shallow breath.

Teomitl wanted to cheer. He wanted to sob. He wanted to curl up around Acatl and go to sleep for a month. He did none of those things. Acatl’s face was practically in his lap, filling him with so much tenderness he thought he might die of it; before he could even think to remember his audience, he reached down and cupped Acatl’s cheek, revelling in the warmth of living blood under his hands.

Thank the gods. Thank you, Lord and Lady Death, for this gift of Acatl’s life.

Things started to move quickly after that. Acatl was borne on a stretcher to recuperate in the palace, where the She-Snake had arranged for a team of Patecatl’s priests to meet him. Teomitl wondered if they’d be any use or if they’d just stand around making concerned noises; being brought back from the dead was surely not common enough to warrant a page in their codices. He supposed that if nothing else, they could do something about what promised to be some truly spectacular bruising on his throat. He wanted to go with him—surely he couldn’t be expected to leave Acatl alone, no matter that Mihmatini refused to leave his side—but when he tried to stand up he almost fell over, and Neutemoc had to help him to his feet.

“Thank you,” he muttered, face burning.

Neutemoc squeezed his shoulder, a brotherly gesture he’d never gotten from his own brothers. His eyes were suspiciously wet. “You brought my brother back. I should be thanking you.”

There were still too many people around. He couldn’t fall to pieces yet. “I won’t accept it. Anyone would have done the same.”

Neutemoc gave him a dry look so reminiscent of Acatl that he felt his throat close up. Before he could do or say anything else emotional, he shrugged off his hand and left. Star demons or no, he needed to be out in the sunlight. He needed to remind himself that he was alive, that they’d won at least this small victory.

The sun fell across his shoulders like a warm blanket, and he soaked it in with his eyes closed for a long, blissful moment. Here, there were no star demons. Here, there was no yawning chasm of power in the Mexica Empire. Here, he didn’t need to worry about consequences or the things he had left to do. Tizoc was dead, and Acatl was alive. The sun woke answering warmth in his blood. He could pretend he was free.

Then he opened his eyes and stared up at the blue sky. The clear blue sky, with not a single errant star piercing through the fabric of the heavens. His mind went blank in shock. We don’t have a Revered Speaker. Nobody should be channeling the Southern Hummingbird’s power in the Fifth World right now. This shouldn’t be happening.

He blinked hard, rubbing his eyes, and took a second look. The sky remained clear. He squinted, trying to see if the tiny pale speck was a star or—no, it was just a cloud. The sky was still clear, and now his temples throbbed with the beginnings of a headache.

Footsteps behind him announced Quenami’s presence before the man spoke. “Well. Congratulations, my lord.”

He resisted the urge to whirl around and strangle the man with his bare hands. There’d be no point to it now that Acatl was alive. “Mn?” He didn’t mean to make it a question, but even for him Quenami was being obsequious.

Quenami chose his words with the air of a man picking his way through a field of obsidian knives. “Acatl has been restored to life thanks to you, and it...appears...that Huitzilopochtli has taken a liking to your bravery in walking into His enemy’s domain. Allow me to be the first to greet my new Revered Speaker-in-waiting.”

Oh. He stared down at his hands, seeing for the first time the faint tracery of gold glimmering over his skin, the warmth that he’d thought had just been the sun. In a manner of speaking, he’d been right. The Southern Hummingbird’s blessing. Is this what Mictecacihuatl meant? As he turned the idea over in his mind, his fists clenched. If the gods were choosing him for the office, then he would be worthy of it.

He would start by being honest. With himself, with Acatl, and with those less deserving.

“If you ever again address Acatl-tzin with less than full respect, Quenami, I will cut out your tongue.”

Darkness.

Pain.

It was the first thing that greeted Acatl as he swam up from the depths of unconsciousness. Everything hurt. His joints throbbed, his skin tingled, and his back ached. And his throat...his throat was the worst. It felt as though it had been squeezed shut, so sore and swollen that even breathing was agony. He lay flat on his back, staring at the inside of his closed lids, and tried to remember why that should be. The last thing he could recall with any certainty was the sham of a trial Tizoc and Quenami had put him through, where he’d been unable to mount even a few words in his own defense without drooling like an imbecile. And then...

The verdict. The flower garland. The courtyard. The ahuitzotls singing to him.

Teomitl.

He tried to stir, but at first his limbs refused to obey him. Alright then, he thought, small steps. Though it felt like moving an entire mountain, he could wiggle his toes. His fingers were next. His arms and legs felt constrained by something, but as he shifted he realized why. Instead of his own thin reed mat, he was laying on at least two thick new ones, and someone had covered him with a light cotton blanket like an invalid. He should have been sweating in the summer heat, but there was a chill sunken into his bones. The last thing he remembered was the garrote cutting off his breath. Swallowing brought a spasm of pain, a dry clicking noise, and the realization that he was desperately thirsty. “Mngh...”

“My lady? He’s waking.”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Mihmatini. She was safe, then. Whatever Tizoc had done, it hadn’t touched her. He thought she must be close by; he could hear the rustle of her skirts and smell the faint piney scent of copal incense. The small hand laid on his forehead was reassuringly warm. “Acatl, can you speak? How do you feel?”

“Grmngh.” He swallowed again. With another monumental effort, he wedged his eyes open. Mihmatini’s face swam into focus above him, pinched with worry but blessedly not bearing any injuries he could see. She’d braided her hair at some point, but now the simple plait was in disarray. The dark circles under her eyes looked bruised in the dim afternoon light, and there was fresh blood beading at her earlobes. I must be in terrible shape. “Sore,” he croaked, and then, “Water...?”

Water was brought, mixed with fresh-tasting medicinal herbs. He tried to push himself up and failed; his muscles were like softened rubber trying to move the cold, solid rock of his own flesh. Mihmatini’s hand at his back molded him into a more or less upright position so that he could drain the cup offered by a slave he recognized as Oyahuaca, ignoring both women’s concerned glances until he was hydrated enough to speak without feeling like he was gargling knives. It helped a little. Not much—gods help him, he was still so damnably weak, and his throat was in agony—but a little. He could think now, and with thought came questions. “What...what happened? Where’s Teomitl?” The ahuitzotls were singing. I know I heard them. Where they are, Teomitl wouldn’t be far behind.

Mihmatini shot a sharp look at Oyahuaca. “Fetch the Revered Speaker while I fill my brother in on what he’s missed.”

He heard the words, but they seemed to be slow in assembling themselves into a coherent sentence. The Revered Speaker? What did that have to do with Teomitl? Gods, he prayed they hadn’t elected Tizoc while he was indisposed. He couldn’t see that going well for anyone, not with that man’s paranoia given free reign. And Teomitl would surely be furious if that was the case, which wouldn’t improve the situation. He’d been in enough of a temper recently that Acatl really didn’t want to see what it looked like if it got worse. That wasn’t even mentioning the star demons. Was Tizoc even capable of channeling the Southern Hummingbird’s power? Somehow he doubted it, Master of the House of Darts or no. It would be just my luck to survive a garroting and immediately have my soul eaten by a star demon, he thought sourly.

It wasn’t until Oyahuaca rose and left at a pace that wasn’t quite a run that he managed to say anything. “Mihmatini.”

She took a deep breath, staring down at her hands. “Do you remember the courtyard? The—the flower garland?”

He nodded dully. It wasn’t likely he’d ever forget. His knees throbbed, a sense-memory of cold stone and naked fear. Of searing pain and darkness and the knowledge that he would die with things left unsaid. Knowing that he now had the chance to say them didn’t bring him any comfort. It wasn’t as though he realistically could, not if he expected a favorable outcome. “There were ahuitzotls.” And then there’d been nothing else. He’d blacked out, probably.

“Well.” She took another breath, hands clenching into fists. “The ahuitzotls were too late. You...” Oh no. There were tears in her eyes. “Teomitl arrived in time to see you die.”

No. His chest felt suddenly too tight, his hammering heart the only thing he could focus on. As if in a dream, he looked down at his hands and knew she was telling the truth. If he engaged his priestly senses, he could see the ghostly tendons and bones under his skin. The dry, cold, acidic emptiness of Mictlan gnawed sharp and vicious at his stomach, too close to the surface. He felt colder than ever. “I...”

I died. I died, and yet I am here. He sucked in a slow breath, tasting ash and herbs and cold water. Another breath brought the sour stench of the sickroom. He’d died. He’d died, and somehow he’d been brought back. Somehow he was here with a pounding heart and aches in all his bones, the pain further proof that he yet lived. Mihmatini sat close enough that he could feel her warmth; when he sniffed, the mingled scents of her perfume and a distant kitchen filled his nostrils. Someone was roasting chilies, and it made his stomach growl lightly. Alive.

Mihmatini was still talking, and he struggled to keep up with it. “He killed Tizoc on the spot. He would have killed Quenami, too, if that dog’s son hadn’t led the ritual to bring your soul back from Mictlan. After...after that, apparently the Southern Hummingbird made it known in no uncertain terms who He was choosing to wield His powers in the Fifth World, so the rest of the council elected to instate Teomitl as Revered Speaker.” She swallowed. “You’ve...you’ve been unconscious for a week. You missed his coronation.”

What?!

Teomitl was Revered Speaker? That was... Acatl shook his head in disbelief. He’s too young was his first thought, but immediately he knew that was wrong. He certainly wasn’t too young to take prisoners in battle, to be personally chosen by Huitzilopochtli. To be the man Acatl realized, with a sinking heart, that he was definitely still in love with, because the idea of Teomitl wearing the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown and still calling him Acatl-tzin, still looking to him for guidance, was doing something very strange to his emotions. He thought he might laugh. Or cry. Either was a distinct possibility.

It was too much. Mind spinning, he grabbed one thing out of the swarm of questions thronging his mind to focus on. He couldn’t handle politics now, not in the state he was in, but the workings of even the most esoteric magical rituals were refreshingly familiar. Even if they involved—ugh—Quenami. “Lord Death should not have released me. So...how...?”

A faint smile crossed Mihmatini’s face. “You should ask Teomitl about that when he arrives. He’s been very worried about you, no matter how many of us tell him that you’re recovering well. If it wasn’t for his coronation, I really don’t think he’d ever leave your side.”

He felt himself blush. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

She snorted and gently shoved at his shoulder, shaking her head. “I’m sure I’m not! He loves you more than he does me.”

He couldn’t possibly have heard that right. He sat in silence for a moment, willing the words to make sense. Mihmatini had to have said something else—meant something else. When she didn’t follow up with any sort of clarification and he realized she was looking at him for a reaction, he found his voice cracking in shock. “He—what?!”

“You heard me.” And now she was unmistakably smiling. For the first time in his life, Acatl wanted a cup with something significantly stronger than water.

It didn’t seem likely that he’d get it. She was still looking at him, seemingly happy as anything, and she’d just told him that the man she was courting was in love with him. He didn’t need to pinch himself—he was in quite enough pain that he knew perfectly well he had to be alive and conscious, thank you very much—but it still didn’t seem real. He couldn’t be that fortunate. He’d made his peace, hadn’t he? He’d determined already that he would go to the grave with his feelings rather than ruin the relationship Teomitl and Mihmatini were building.

Except he had gone to the grave. And somehow—he was not giving Quenami all the credit, he flatly refused, a man had to have some limits—he’d been pulled out of it. And now Mihmatini was telling him that Teomitl had been worried about him. That it had taken the long, painstakingly involved rituals of a royal coronation to pull him away from Acatl’s sickbed. That he loved him. “But you...he...” At a complete loss for words, he gestured in the air between them.

She shrugged carelessly. “Oh, the wedding is still on. We were waiting for you to wake. But I’m not first in his heart, and that suits me fine.”

He swallowed, another grinding flash of pain. Belatedly he remembered his water, and took a long gulp before answering. “...If you’re happy.” Regardless of whether she was the Guardian of the Duality or Teomitl’s wife, she’d always be his little sister. Her happiness was far, far more important to him than his own heart. Even if it seemed, amazingly, that he had nothing to fear.

“I am.” Her grin made her whole face glow. “And you?”

“What about me?” She didn’t know. He was entirely sure she didn’t know, not when he’d only realized it himself moments before he died.

She swatted him again. “Tizoc is dead, you’re alive, and you very definitely have the favor of our new Revered Speaker. The boundaries are safe. The star demons aren’t a threat anymore. I’d say that’s plenty enough to be happy about.”

He had to sit with that for a moment, still clutching his empty cup in both hands. She was right, of course. He was alive. They were safe. Teomitl was Emperor now, and he was no paranoid coward like his brother had been. No, instead he was brave and strong and whip-smart and he...Mihmatini said he might... Gods, he thought dizzily. He had thought there was no chance. He had died thinking there was no chance.

Mihmatini was looking at him. He choked out a grunt. It was the closest he could get to an actual response.

Someone was sprinting down the hallway outside. It was all the warning he got before the entrance curtain was yanked aside so roughly that it nearly came off its hanging rod; the cacophony of bells that announced the intrusion nearly drowned out the cry of, “Acatl-tzin!” that accompanied it. Teomitl stood in the doorway for a moment, relief plain on his face and the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown equally plain on his head.

Acatl couldn’t look away. He’s been crowned. He is my Emperor now. And he still...he still calls me Acatl-tzin. He wanted to laugh for the sheer joy of it.

Mihmatini rose gracefully, but the smile she turned on Teomitl had an edge to it. “I’ll leave you to talk.”

After Mihmatini left, all Acatl could do was stare at Teomitl. Absurdly, he thought, He looks the same. The same lean, solidly muscled build, the same nose and eyes, the same little scar on one elbow where a training sword had caught him as a child. True, his cloak and sandals were rich turquoise, his earrings and lip plug were jade and gold, and there was a slender emerald rod piercing his nose, but his face hadn’t changed. It was still open and guileless, every emotion writ clear. He loves you, Mihmatini had said. Acatl thought he could believe it.

Slowly, carefully, Teomitl sank down next to his mat. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Acatl’s face; for a moment Acatl thought he was going to reach for him, but he seemed to think better of it. “I...how are you feeling?”

How am I feeling, he asks. Again he thought he could laugh, but there was no joy in it; under his skin, dry dust rustled like paper. His bones still ached. Even with the blanket over him, there was a chill clinging to his skin. The words were out before he could stop them, more acidic than he’d intended. “...I’ve just been dead, Teomitl. How do you think?”

Teomitl jerked back, glaring at him with more hurt than anger. “It’s a valid concern!” He swallowed once, visibly, and added in a softer voice, “We weren’t sure when you’d wake.”

There was a tremor to the words Acatl really didn’t like, and Mihmatini’s words crossed his mind again. She’d never answered the question of how he’d returned. Part of him didn’t want to know. He was alive, wasn’t he? Let the details rest. But if Teomitl had done something...ill-advised to bring him back, then it was his responsibility to help fix it. Even now that Teomitl was Revered Speaker, it was still his responsibility. He took a deep breath. It didn’t hurt so much anymore. “I’m just glad to be able to wake at all. Mihmatini told me that Quenami provided the magic, but how...?”

Teomitl dropped his gaze, but his voice was firm; his shoulders rolled as though he was preparing for a fight. “...Someone had to go into Mictlan. I volunteered.”

What. The words crystallized in his mind, horror slicing like swords. It’s one thing for me to go—I am Lord Death’s servant! But Teomitl, sworn to the Southern Hummingbird and Jade Skirt, walking through enemy territory—for me—

“Lord Death was...willing to release your soul to me.”

He forced himself to breathe. Mictlan gives up nothing without a price. Mictlan gives up nothing without a price. For Teomitl to walk back to the Fifth World with my soul... With dread gripping his heart in eagle claws, he forced out, “What did He want in exchange?”

Silence. Teomitl closed his eyes on a long exhale.

“What did He want, Teomitl?!”

“Mine!” Teomitl’s eyes snapped open, filled with an anguished emotion Acatl couldn’t even begin to unravel. His fists clenched, white-knuckled, as he caught Acatl’s gaze and held it; he was stunned to see tears in his eyes. For all that, his voice held steady with barely a waver. “I offered Him my soul in exchange for yours, and He accepted. When I die...I’ll go to Mictlan. And it will be worth it, Acatl-tzin, do you understand?” He raised his voice right over the feeble noise that escaped Acatl’s lips. “It will! Because I lied to Tizoc, you’re mine, and I couldn’t let you die!”

Horror—he did that for me, gave up all hope of the Sun’s Heaven for me—almost threatened to swamp him. Teomitl was a warrior. He was the Emperor. He deserved an eternity by the side of the Sun, and he’d thrown it all away for him. For a poor priest from a family of peasants.

“I’m what,” he choked out. “Teomitl, what were you thinking?!”

“You heard me!” Teomitl snapped, making a furious stabbing motion with his hand.

His heart felt as though it had, impossibly, migrated up into his throat. He could barely speak around it. “But I...but...” Your soul. The place in the heavens you deserve. Even Tizoc might go there, if he died with a weapon in his hand. And you never will.

Teomitl had clearly decided there was no room for remorse or second-guessing himself. He raised his voice to a snarl. “No buts!” He jerked his head to one side, eyes shutting too slowly to stop the trickle of tears down his face. Acatl felt his heart crack in two at the sight. It was worse when Teomitl scrubbed at his eyes with the back of a hand, made a horribly wet throat-clearing noise, and bit out, “You’re the most important person in the world to me, Acatl-tzin.”

Helpless, he reached for him—and stopped. No matter how much he wanted to pull Teomitl into his arms, he had a feeling it wouldn’t go over well. “I’m not—” He stopped. Started again. “I’m just—”

Teomitl looked up, glaring at him through reddened eyes. “You’re not ‘just’ anything. Your life is worth more to me than anything else.”

Including your brother. He didn’t say that. His own eyes burned. “Mihmatini told me Tizoc-tzin is dead.”

“He is.” Teomitl’s voice was striving for neutrality, but there was too much bitter fury still lingering in it for it to ring true. That, and he still sounded close to tears.

Acatl had to swallow tears of his own and wished for more water. “By your hand?” He found he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Yes, brothers should stand by brothers, and unquestionably that precluded murder. On the other hand...well. He could admit to a certain petty vindictiveness. Tizoc had executed him for a crime he hadn’t even committed. That certainly deserved death in return.

“I had to,” Teomitl said simply. Now he sounded steady, but his knuckles had gone white where he’d grabbed a fistful of his jade-beaded cloak.

“...Why?” But even as he asked, he knew the answer. The knot in his chest started to loosen, and he found he could breathe.

Teomitl recoiled, staring at him incredulously. “For you, you fool!” It came out ragged, raw. He had to take a breath before continuing, “I saw you and—Tizoc tore my heart from my chest when he killed you, Acatl-tzin. I returned the favor.”

Oh. Oh. Mihmatini was right. By the Duality, she was right. And so was Teomitl; he was a fool, because he’d thought he could possibly have hidden how he felt. There would be no hiding this. His heart was hammering so fiercely he could feel it in his fingertips. He was still exhausted, still sore from his encounter with death, but that didn’t matter next to the cataclysm of emotion swirling through him. It was for me. He went into Mictlan for me, slew his own brother for me. Because...

It still didn’t seem possible. He was no great warrior or dazzling beauty. He would bring no glory to his clan. He could only hope to be a good man, to serve the gods and the empire well. And yet somehow, he’d earned a place in Teomitl’s heart.

“...Teomitl.” It seemed to be the only word in his reeling mind. He realized he was leaning closer, that it would be so easy for him to close the distance between them, and only just stopped himself in time.

Teomitl swallowed convulsively, dropping his gaze. Even in the dim light afforded to them, it was easy to see him turn a dull, dark red. “I—” His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Acatl’s and squeezing tight. “Acatl-tzin. Acatl.”

He’d never heard his name like that before—harsh and desperate, unspoken emotion ringing through it like bells. It made his heart skip a beat, and for a moment he could barely breathe. “Are you not...?” The Revered Speaker, he wanted to say, as far above me as the sun in the sky. But the words lodged in his throat and stuck there; helpless, he gestured to Teomitl’s turquoise adornments with his free hand. The other one was still held firmly in Teomitl’s grasp, making it easy for him to tangle their fingers together. Whether you are or not, I’m yours.

It must have been the right thing to do, because Teomitl was looking at him again. “Yes. But...” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Acatl’s focus followed it. “To you, I want to be Teomitl.”

He wasn’t cold anymore. Warmth pulsed through him like another heart, and Mictlan’s chill had never felt farther away. “And...” The words were out before he could call them back; maybe it was a stupid question, but he had to know. He had to be sure, before he did something he might regret. There were many different ways to love, and it was entirely possible that what Teomitl had said and what Mihmatini had heard were two entirely different things than the emotion coursing through him now. “Is that all you want from me?” Please say it isn’t, he thought desperately. Please say I’m not the only one willing to follow anywhere this leads.

Teomitl’s thumb smoothed over Acatl’s fingers, very nearly distracting him from his words. “No,” he said simply.

Now he knew he wasn’t breathing. Teomitl’s hand on his was his greatest anchor to the earth. “Ngh?”

Teomitl smiled, brief and radiant, as his gaze drifted pointedly to Acatl’s mouth. “When you are well enough, I’m going to kiss you.”

It was a simple statement of fact—the sky is blue, Grandmother Earth is hungry, I am going to kiss you. Acatl took a moment to breathe, feeling the foundations of his world lift and resettle themselves to account for this new version of reality. His limbs still felt too heavy and his throat was a dull-edged sword of pain, but none of that mattered. Teomitl had brought him back to life, saved the Fifth World, loved him.

He tilted his head and leaned in, the clearest invitation he could give. “...I’m well enough now.”

Teomitl closed the distance.

He’d thought about what kissing Teomitl might be like. He’d been ashamed, yes, but Teomitl was an attractive youth who smiled easily and his vow of celibacy didn’t make him a eunuch. He’d imagined something rough and passionate, maybe a little clumsy in his eagerness. He’d imagined more teeth. He hadn’t imagined soft, gentle lips pressed to his, coaxing his mouth open. He loves me. It was the easiest thing in the world to relax into it, letting the arm Teomitl slid around him take his weight as he kissed back.

From there it was only natural to pull him close in return. Acatl rested a hand at his waist, revelling in the heat of the smooth skin there and the small, soft noise Teomitl made into his mouth. It almost sounded surprised, and he couldn’t help but smile. Did you not think I wanted to touch you? Oh, but it was too difficult to kiss someone when you were smiling, and soon he had to pull away. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.

“Acatl.” Teomitl was smiling too; they bumped noses, and Acatl had to suppress a little bubble of laughter. “You don’t know how happy I am right now.”

“I think I can guess.” He ran his fingers lightly over Teomitl’s side—too lightly, evidently, because it startled a squeaky, adorable giggle out of him. He hadn’t realized Teomitl could laugh like that. He certainly hadn’t realized the man was ticklish. Now there was no use suppressing his delight, nor the grin that threatened to split his face.

Teomitl’s eyes narrowed warily, but without any real heat. “Do not. I swear to the Duality, I’ll take back everything I just said.”

He decided to be merciful, smoothing his hand over the skin instead and watching the delicate little shiver that resulted. “You won’t. You never break your word.” He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Teomitl loves me. I love him in return. That will never change, not in this world.

“Mm.” Teomitl kissed him again, brief and sweet. “No, but I wouldn’t mind the chance to say it again properly.”

“Properly?” He’d done an excellent job of expressing his feelings as far as Acatl was concerned. There was surely no chance of him misunderstanding kisses like that, not when they were still making his skin tingle.

But apparently Teomitl disagreed. He blushed again, averting his gaze. “This isn’t how I wanted to say...any of that,” he muttered. “I had plans. And besides, I was hardly sure you were going to listen!”

He felt like he’d been stabbed. How long? How long was he carrying this? And I was blind. I didn’t even realize what was in my own heart until the last moment. Duality curse him, he’d been a prize idiot. “Teomitl...” he murmured.

Teomitl glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. There was the faintest hint of a rueful smile on his face. “I thought for sure it was doomed,” he muttered. “That I’d have to take it to my grave. I thought I didn’t have a chance.”

Acatl was already shaking his head. Or rather, he shook his head once; continuing the motion reminded him he’d been recently strangled, and his neck muscles had opinions on that. “You thought wrong. I...” But he stumbled over the words, flustered.

“Hm?” He was acutely aware of the way Teomitl froze, watching him.

Well, there was no stopping it now. And it was the truth, besides. “I love you,” he blurted out.

Teomitl went spectacularly crimson, but Acatl didn’t have much time to admire the view because then they were kissing again. It was still slow and careful, but this time Teomitl shifted to lay them both onto the mat and that turned out to be considerably easier on his sore muscles, not to mention giving him an excellent chance to skim a palm all the way down the exposed skin of Teomitl’s side. Teomitl hummed into his mouth, an intoxicating noise. “Mmm...”

Even when he broke the kiss, he didn’t go far. He didn’t want to. “Does that mean you believe me?”

Teomitl’s smile was like a sun rising. “You’re right. Mictlan might have my soul, Acatl, but my heart is yours.”

He’d almost forgotten. He’d almost forgotten. He closed his eyes, unwillingly assaulted with far too vivid memories of the cold and the darkness and the dust. But he still tasted Teomitl’s mouth on his when he licked his lips, and that helped to banish it a little. “I still cannot believe you did that,” he muttered.

Teomitl held him tighter, huffing out an annoyed-sounding breath. “I had nothing else to give. Oblivion is worth it as long as I can spend my life with you.”

He inhaled sharply. “Oh, Teomitl.”

There was nothing for it but to draw Teomitl in for another kiss, this one deeper; as hands found his hair, his own dug into Teomitl’s skin. After a second’s worth of surprise, Teomitl returned the fervor with a growl. There were the teeth he’d been wondering about, and he welcomed them. If he’d had the energy—if the Revered Speaker could be assured of any privacy at all—he would have allowed himself to crave more. Since they couldn’t, he settled for catching Teomitl’s lower lip lightly between his teeth and thrilling in the soft gasp before he pulled away just far enough to breathe, “Then I hope we die on the same day, in the same hour. I won’t let you walk through Mictlan alone.” Not again, at any rate.

Teomitl grinned at him. “It will be a good journey.”

Upon their deaths, they would both dissolve into dust at the foot of Lord Death’s throne. But here and now, they were alive. Acatl found he was looking forward to that.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #mihmatini #mihmitl #quenami #tizoc #paladin writes stuff

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Coming to America: The Secret Shared Cinematic Universe You Forgot About

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When one thinks about 1988’s Coming to America, a few things stand out: James Earl Jones and Madge Sinclair as the King and Queen of Zamunda speaking to their son Prince Akeem (Eddie Murphy) at a breakfast table with intercom radios; the opulence of Zamunda’s palace, which represented an idealized African nation to 1980s audiences the way Wakanda does today; and of course Murphy and Arsenio Hall’s Semmi fresh off the plane in Queens, New York with no idea what “common” means—or also Murphy and Hall under pounds of makeup as the argumentative old-timers at the nearby barbershop.

The film has many great elements that make it a comedy classic. However, what’s often overlooked is that the picture is not-so-secretly part of a shared cinematic universe. Indeed, Coming to America is the film which confirmed several of director John Landis’ films all occur in the same world: One with another Eddie Murphy as Billy Ray Valentine, a small time hustler who gets one over on some rich old racists and winds up nouveau riche in Trading Places, and one with carnivorous lunar activities in An American Werewolf in London. Weird, right?

The more overt and official of these is the callback to Murphy and Landis’ previous collaboration, Trading Places (1983). In that film, Murphy’s Billy Ray Valentine is an unimpressive grifter who’s trying to get by on a put-on about being a Vietnam vet without legs. Obviously Billy Ray has never had the opportunity to achieve more, and two corrupt blue bloods named Randolph and Mortimer Duke (Ralph Bellamy and Don Ameche) think it would be funny to give Billy Ray that chance to succeed—if only temporarily, after all they don’t want a Black man actually flourishing at their company—while throwing their silver spoon lackey, Louis Winthorpe III (Dan Aykroyd) into poverty.

It’s a cynical racist game they’re playing, and it ends up blowing up in their faces, with Billy Ray and Louis eventually joining forces to get rich while bankrupting the Dukes. In other words, it’s a perfectly ‘80s comedy in tune with that decade’s values: humor based in a lot of stereotypes that ends with the good guys getting rich. Still, it’s a charmer which, alongside 48 Hrs. (1982), proved Murphy was a bona fide movie star outside of Saturday Night Live. Hence why Murphy and Landis are so keen to call back to it in Coming to America.

Late in the 1988 comedy about Prince Akeem traveling to New York City in order to meet a nice American girl, the prince and Lisa (Shari Headley) are taking a walk in the promenade near the Brooklyn Bridge when Akeem gives a handful of rolled up hundred dollar bills to two homeless men. Committed to embracing a life of poverty, Akeem tells Lisa he just gave away pocket change. However, when the camera returns to the two old-timers beneath blankets and cardboard, we learn that (gasp) it’s Ralph Bellamy and Don Ameche! It seems Billy Ray and Louis really did thoroughly put these capitalist vultures out on the street. But the two grumpy old men are thrilled with this newfound investment.

“Mortimer, we’re back!” Bellamy announces with a Cheshire grin. The two then show up again to bang on Akeem and Lisa’s window as they have dinner, shouting, “Let’s have lunch.”

It’s an amusing and impossible-to-miss Easter egg for fans of Murphy’s films. Although given how rotten the Duke brothers are, we fear Akeem has done more harm than good. The moment also makes the two films a rare thing in 20th century Hollywood cinema: a shared cinematic universe. While the Universal Movie Monsters did this 40 years prior to Trading Places, we were still a long way from Quentin Tarantino and Kevin Smith’s independent world-building in their 1990s films, never mind the Marvel Cinematic Universe popularizing the idea a decade after that.

However, what many miss is that Trading Places isn’t the only Landis movie that Coming to America also calls back to. Later in the 1988 movie, Akeem is chasing Lisa, and the two run through an appropriately scuzzy New York City subway. There are real posters from that time period on the walls, such as one for August Wilson’s Broadway play Fences, which starred James Earl Jones and Frankie Faison (both players in Coming to America). But there’s also a poster for See You Next Wednesday.

This fictional title does not correspond with a real movie, however it does match a running joke throughout Landis’ filmography, including most famously in The Blues Brothers (1980) and An American Werewolf in London (1981). Consider a nondescript billboard for a movie called See You Next Wednesday also appears in The Blues Brothers, with Aykroyd and John Belushi driving right past it in Chicago while on a mission from God. In American Werewolf, meanwhile, there are posters scattered throughout the London tube system for a movie of sorts also titled See You Next Wednesday.

The title is a play on the dirty turn of phrase “See You Next Tuesday,” and actually originates from a line of dialogue spoken in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Landis, however, enjoys sprinkling it throughout his work, suggesting it’s the name of a fictional movie, one with a significant underground advertising budget between Werewolf and Coming to America.

The movie-within-a-movie is revealed in Werewolf’s third act to actually be a seedy porno film playing in London’s Piccadilly Circus. It’s there that the poor schmuck David Kessler (David Naughton) transforms into a werewolf one last time, and kills some perverts on his way out the door.

Admittedly, this is not an official connection between Coming to America and An American Werewolf in London, or The Blues Brothers. For starters, it legally has to be slightly different since Werewolf and Brothers are Universal Pictures releases while Coming to America (like Trading Places) was produced by Paramount. Additionally, the See You Next Wednesday poster in Coming to America is not for a porno film, but a glossy sci-fi cheesefest apparently starring Jamie Lee Curtis, who also happened to appear in Trading Places. But we suspect these superficial differences in the posters (that you have to squint to notice) are concessions to the legal need to differentiate the running joke.

Like the fan theory that Ridley Scott’s Alien and Blade Runner occur in the same universe—a theory Scott himself has publicly supported—despite the sci-fi films being produced by different studios, Landis seems to invite folks to imagine Coming to America and a number of his other films are also part of the same universe.

It’s a funny thing to imagine that there are two Eddie Murphys out there, one yachting with Aykroyd’s Louis and Curtis’ Ophelia around the world, and the other a kind hearted if overly naïve African prince. And while Zamunda is a kind of paradise (at least for the men in its highly patriarchal society), demons and cursed devils like David Kessler prowl the moors of England, picking off American tourists too dim to beware the moon and stick to the road.

Movies

Coming 2 America: How Wesley Snipes Got Into Rhythm with Eddie Murphy

By Tony Sokol

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Coming to America: Ranking Every Eddie Murphy Character

By David Crow

Of course these are more winks and nods than concrete world-building, and they’re masterminded by one of the most controversial directors of their era. In fact, it is hard to consider these connections and not also recall the director’s complicated past. For a short time, Landis was on top of the world when he made Animal House, The Blues Brothers, and An American Werewolf in London back-to-back-to-back. But by the time of Coming to America’s release, fewer and fewer colleagues were working with him due to the tragic and entirely avoidable disaster on the Twilight Zone: The Movie set, an accident which led to the deaths of three people, two of them children. Murphy, however, was one person who continued to work with Landis.

And the two worked exceptionally well together, indeed. Landis’ specific brand of outlandish, sometimes fratty humor complemented Murphy’s big swings as a performer, including beginning to experiment with makeup comedy. He never more adeptly used prosthetics than in Coming to America; and much of this film’s iconography comes from Landis and his wife, costume designer Deborah Nadoolman, who imagined Akeem and Semmi’s now iconic Zamunda winter wear.

Whatever else, Landis helmed some of the most popular comedies of the 1980s, with four of them apparently existing in the same universe. Remembering that these days can still crack a smile. Or at least a howl.

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

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premonition; never too late preface

Summary: When Richie dies, Eddie has no idea what to do next, until he wakes up the next day, and Richie is sleeping next to him. In the strangest week of their lives, Eddie puts the missing pieces together to solve the mystery and his husband’s life.

A/N: this is a story idea based on the movie ‘premonition’, that both me and @reddie-fangirl24 are going to work on. We’ll alternate between writing chapters, and this is the preface. Let me know what you think! Also, I’m thinking about applying for a writing course in college so i would really appreciate any honest opinion about my writing!

warning: curse words

Despite Eddie’s best intentions on following the route of the car, he loses his sense of direction barely five minutes into the car ride. A blindfold is covering his eyes, making him blind and reliant on Richie, who is sitting next to him in the driver’s seat.

‘Are you excited Eds?’ Richie asks, childish glee laced through his voice. Eddie opens his mouth to answer, but right before he can, Richie makes a sudden U-turn, cursing harshly while he does.

‘Richie I swear to God. You’d better be paying attention to the road!’ He wishes he could see him, mostly because that would give him the opportunity to prod some more. He’s sure that if given the change, he’d make Richie spill the secret in 10 minutes flat.

As it stands, however, he can’t check if Richie remains focused on the road while they’re talking, so he resorts to silence. Africa by Toto is playing in the background, the same song that was their first dance as husband and husband, so he tunes in to the lyrics and lets his mind drift, the only way he can keep his energy in check.

He’s full of curiosity about where exactly they’re going, and what Richie had in store for him. Maybe they’ll be going on a day trip to the zoo, but that seems unlikely since it was already two in the afternoon, or they could be hanging out with their friends. But then why did Richie put so much energy in keeping it secret? The truth is, Eddie is clueless, and that is not something he likes.

He’s gotten better at letting things go that are beyond his control, but disruptive plans are a pet peeve he has yet to overcome, and Richie knows that, so there must be a good reason for doing it.

Richie is nervous, Eddie can tell, even if Richie tries his damn hardest to convince him otherwise. He’s been drumming his fingers against the steering wheel from the moment they left their apartment, too rapid to match the beat of the songs they’ve been listening too.

Just before he decided to remark on this before he can start questioning Richie, the car slows down, and the thumping stops. ‘Hey, Eddie Spaghetti, any guesses as to where we’re going?’

Eddie lets a disbelieving laugh escape him. ‘Obviously not, idiot. If I could see where we are, then maybe I had a chance to.’

Laughing himself, Richie turns the temperature in the car down, indicating to Eddie that he’s sweating, another clue that he’s more tense then he likes to admit.

‘You hot, babe?’ Eddie questions smugly, the edges of his lips lifted up to a smirk.

‘No’, Richie denies, ‘but you sure are, babe.’ He puts empathies on his last word mocking Eddie with his choice of words.

Eddie rolls his eyes as best he can behind his blindfold, even when he knows Richie probably won’t be able to notice it anyway.

For a moment, he nearly forgets what they’re doing. The atmosphere in the car brings forth the same emotions that summers as kids used to do. Before they had to worry about work and everything else, they could be as careless as they wanted to be.

Then the car comes to a quiet halt. Richie sighs, bracing himself for the next part, as he is both equally exhilarated, as he is anxious. Impatient as ever, Eddie eagerly asks; ‘Can I take off my blindfold now?’

Exhaling a chuckle, Richie shakes his head, before realizing that Eddie can’t see him. ‘In a minute’, he responds, taking the keys out of the ignition.

‘Remember our wedding day, when we returned at night to an apartment and the fucking annoying couple down the hall wouldn’t stop screaming?’

Of course Eddie remembers that, he remembers everything from that day in great detail. The way Richie positively beamed when Eddie came into the room, his arm linked with Bev’s, the hilarious speeches the losers made when proposing a toast, and the promise they made at night, when everyone was dead asleep.

The vow Richie and Eddie made, the one Richie is referencing, was a guarantee that they would move out and find their own place, away from others where they would be with each other and no one could interrupt.

They deserved that much after the lives they had, and especially after Eddie was nearly killed by IT, leaving him in the hospital for almost a year. That had been six years ago, but they still coward at any sight of a shadow, or a sound coming from a dimly lit place.

But that vow had been over a year and a half, and they had yet to find any house that was affordable and close to Eddie’s job, or the other losers. Eddie’s confused as to why Richie would bring it up now.

‘Sure, I remember that Rich, why?’ Eddie inquired, unsure where this was all heading.

‘Good, just making sure.’ Richie’s lips were chapped as they brushed up against Eddie’s, their lips meeting in a slow, loving kiss. Because Eddie hadn’t seen it coming and was taken by surprise, the kiss is a bit sloppy, but the fact that it’s Richie that’s kissing him, made up more than enough for that fact.

When Richie pulled back, his hand brushes over Eddie’s eyebrow, a soothing gesture he had picked up on at the hospital, since every other part of Eddie’s body was off-limits due to injuries. A dopy smiles rests on Eddie’s face when Richie eventually leans away, and he catches the sound of him opening up his car door.

‘Hold on one second, Eds.’

Then, the door on Eddie’s side unlocks as well, the cool air breeze from the open door making him shiver slightly.

‘Okay, I’m going to take your blindfold off now, okay?’

Eagerness spreads through Eddie’s entire body. He nods enthusiastically, he’d be embarrassed, if it wasn’t for the man-child that he called his husband.

When the one blockage slips away, another replaces it straight after, Richie’s one hand big enough to cover both of Eddie’s orbs. He groans. ‘Oh, you asshole, I fucking knew that that was what you were going to do.’

‘Yeah, well deal with it Eddie my love.’ Richie teases lovingly.

Richie supports Eddie out of the car, the grip on his forearm tight. With a slam, the car door shuts behind them, and they are left on the street.

Together, they shuffle over a sidewalk, and that is the only thing Eddie can make out, still in the dark. A kiss is pressed to the side of his head, and then Richie leans down, Eddie small and short frame nothing compared to his, so he can whisper; ‘Open up, Eds.’

His hands fall away, and it takes a hot minute for Eddie to adjust back to the light, after being without it for so long. After his eyes have adapted, he focusses on what’s in front of him, his eyes widening in uncertainty.

Before him is a house, by the looks off it made completely out of wood frame, plywood and sheetrock. There’s an enormous front yard, about 50 square feet, with a walkway from the street up till the front door, full of gravel.

There was a parking spot, marked by the absence of grass, in front of a large window that constricted the view inside the house by white curtains. Eddie blinked, then shakes his head as if to get him out of a daze before turning and gazing towards Richie.

‘A house? Is that why I spend thirty minutes in a car? To see a fucking house?’

Richie paled a little, clearing his throat before covering it up with a smile. Eddie felt guilty nauseatingly fast. ‘You should check it out first, Eds.’

‘What for, Richie? Getting arrested for trespassing is the last thing I want to do right now.’

With a chuckle, Richie guides the two of them towards the front door, his hands still holding on to Eddie’s upper-arms, steering him gently but firm. ‘We’re not going to get arrested, Eds Spagheds, trust me. Where’s your sense of adventure? Maybe I want us to get caught, huh?’

Richie playfully nibbles at the top of Eddie’s neck, right below his chin, laughing when Eddie pushes him away with one of his own. ‘If we get arrested numbnuds, I’m leaving you behind and I am not posting bail!’

The walk up to the front door, Richie letting go as he searches for the keys in his pocket. The door is painted in a camel color, with a mailbox opening near the bottom. Fumbling his way in front of Eddie, Richie opens the door with a tada-motions, gesturing Eddie inside widely, thrilled that he gets to show him the place.

Eddie enters hesitantly, glancing left and right, then stepping inside and doing the same thing. When you step through the door, you find yourself in the hallway, leading up the stairs to the end of it.

Turning left, Eddie sees what he believes is the dining room, and on his right is the living room, a large tv hung smack dab in the middle of it. There are no doors connecting them, just open spaces, but Eddie likes that a lot. It gives the illusion of freedom, and when discussing moving plans with Richie, he had always insisted it should be an open concept.

He peers at Richie, silently asking which direction they’ll go to next, but he patiently waits for Eddie to decide, his hands shoved in his pockets as he silently watches him.

Eddie sets off to the right, gaping out the beauty and serenity that the room displays. There’s a large sand-colored three-piece sofa in the corner, with pillows a baby pink littered across it. Besides the tv, there’s also a bookcase, a mirror hanging on the wall opposite of the couch, a closet, a wooden coffee table, and several green plants. The walls have a peach color to them.

Straight ahead was the kitchen, fully equipped with the newest equipment for cooking. Excluding the basic necessities, there is also a coffee machine, a food processor and an immersion blender. Though it’s a very modern cooking area, it’s build-out of wood. Eddie lets his fingertips slide over the top, focusing on the feel of the rubles under his touch.

Then they saunter over to the main hall again, arriving in another room which held a piano, a desk, and another tv, the walls tinted a dusky pink.

Next is the dining room, a large wooden table at its center, alongside six chairs, neatly places under neat it. There are two large windows, covering the entirety of the walls, leading up to the grass part of their front lawn.

A bathroom is located under the stairs, complete with a toilet, mirror, and sink.

The back garden is even bigger than the front, and if Eddie were to guess, he estimates the total ground at about 71 inches. A little pond covered under a large tree oozes tranquility, an image of an harmonious Sunday afternoon filled with reading and enjoying each other’s company flashes through Eddie’s thoughts, the imagine warming his insides.

Next, they ascend up the stairs, walking up to an even larger floor than the ground one. There are two more bathrooms, one next to one of the bedrooms, and one that’s found at the utter end of the hallway.

In the bathrooms a bath and a shower can be found, along with a toilet, sink and several cabinets, tiles coating the walls with a homely feel. There is a work office, with a desk, computer and placements for Eddie’s files so he can work organized and at peace.

Lastly, there are three bedrooms, with respectively lilac, peach and aqua-colored walls that Richie insisted they visited last. It becomes clear why when they enter the aqua colored bedroom.

The peach bedroom is unquestionably the main bedroom, as it is the largest, and has the biggest bed. It’s adjacent to the street, but the walls are thick enough that any sound from the outside gets muffled.

The Lilac and aqua rooms share a wall, both of them positioned near the backyard.

Eddie’s eyes are drawn to letter placed upon the bed in the Aqua room from the second he walks in, so he makes a beeline for it.

He hears Richie chuckle, but he pays it no mind as he rips the envelop open to reveal what’s inside. In the letter, with scribbled handwriting that can only come from Richie, a message is written. Want to make this the baby’s room? It reads, Eddie dropping the paper in shock, turning to asks Richie what the hell is going on.

‘What do you mean, Rich? Why the hell are we here?’

With a beam, Richie turns around in a circle, gesturing towards the whole house. ‘This is our house now, Eds. I followed everything you said, and added a few things of my own. I really hope you like it. I was basing it off of what your mother liked, you know since I knew her so well.’

Eddie looks at Richie like he grew two heads, his brow furrowed while his body stands rigid. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

For a whole year, they rejected every house that was on the market, touring more open houses that Richie toured cities, for none on them even remotely resembled what it was they were after, and now the perfect house suddenly fell in their lap?

The quest was partially daring since they both agreed that refraining from having children while still at the apartment was a must. Both of them longed for kids more than anything, but they scorned having to raise them in a place that didn’t belong to them.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Richie says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, ‘maybe I should have told you that this was haystack’s wedding gift.’

‘Wait, what the fuck, how?’ Eddie questions, the pitch of his voice going slightly higher.

‘Well I told Benverly about our search for a house and Ben offered to help. So we’ve been secretly working on this whenever you’re off to work or out with Bev.’

‘Oh Rich’, Eddie smiled, his heart growing twice as big as before. Every time he thinks he can’t love the man anymore then he already does, he organizes something like this.

‘And if you don’t like something we can change it. But we agreed on two kids, so two children bedroom, and look’, Richie exclaimed as he trudged to the window, pointing outside to the garden.

‘I was thinking we could place a swing set there, and maybe even a pool.’ He faltered when Eddie kept listening instead of speaking up, keen on knowing what Eddie thought.

Eddie, who was staring with a lovestruck gaze on his face, rushed forward to sloth his lips against Richie’s, kissing him passionately in a way to hopefully convey what words didn’t. Thank you, I love you, I love this.

‘Rich, Thank you. I-, this is amazing, you’re amazing.’

Richie melted to a pool at Eddie’s praise, swooned by the love that surrounded him.

‘And yes, of course, I would love to have a baby with you.’

He could not wait to start their new lives, in their own home.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #movie au #premonition #reddie fluff #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #My writing #it chapter two imagine #adult losers #adult reddie #mentions of Bev en Ben #preface #no character deaths yet

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