#here are the two versions of their school jackets

[theaonlax]

came across this image and i swear it's so bokuaka-coded

[reysdriver]

Keeping It Quiet | E.M.

Eddie comes to visit you when everyone is sleeping... or so you thought — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff

warnings: suggestive content, making out, fear of getting caught, jokes about guns/getting shot

words: 1.7k

a/n: idgaf about timeline or continuity with the show when I do this series of oneshots, it's just kind of an alternate version of the show where Hopper is still here around the events of season 4 ig (also I LOVE this gif of joseph omg)

It was late at night, but you weren’t sleeping. You were taking advantage of the quiet house and catching up on some reading that finally wasn’t for school. You laid with the book at the foot of your bed, and your feet dangling over your pile of stuffed animals right by your pillows. 

It was so comfortable, you forgot about the world around you. 

And you were only brought back by the terrifying sound of someone knocking on your window. It scared you right out of your haze, at least until you looked outside and realised who it was. 

Eddie was standing right outside your bedroom wall with a stupid grin on his face, and he was pointing to the windowsill, wordlessly asking you to let him in. 

After rolling your eyes and marking your spot in the book, you got up and opened the window for your boyfriend. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, leaning over the separation to peck his lips quickly. 

“Not quite the warm welcome I was expecting.” He grunted, using the log you had placed under your window to climb in your room. “You’re not happy to see me?”

“You scared the hell out of me ‘cause you didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

“I didn’t know I was coming over until I was already in my van. I haven’t seen you in forever, plus I had something I wanted to show you.”

The last part was intriguing, but you still wanted to correct his dramatics. You’ve learned that if you didn’t act as the voice of reason sometimes, he would start believing his own exaggerations.

“It’s been two days since you last saw me.” And it didn’t take long for you to give in to whatever he was hiding. “But what is it that I have to see?” 

He let out an exaggerated sigh as he flopped down on the end of your bed. He looked up at you with fake sadness. “I should have known you would only like me for material things, Madonna.” 

“So what if I was a material girl? You’d still love me anyways.” 

He started speaking like he was in the school play, which he would never do. “It’s just sad—”

You jumped towards him to cover his mouth with your hand. As much as you loved his antics and would encourage it at any other time, it was all quiet in your house and you were petrified of waking your family. 

“Are you crazy?” You asked him in a hushed scold. 

He just nodded happily since he couldn’t speak with your hand still over his mouth. 

“If my dad hears you, he’ll burst into the room with a gun in his hand. You might be able to charm the pants off of me effortlessly, but I think you’d get shot if you tried to test your charisma on the chief of police.” 

You cautiously took your hand away from Eddie’s face while he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Stop looking at me like that and show me what you wanted me to see in the first place.” You told him, sternly but lovingly. 

“Wow, you really are the chief’s daughter.” He joked as he stood up and took off his leather jacket. 

You figured he was just making himself comfortable, but when he started taking off the t-shirt he was wearing underneath the coat, you wondered what was really going on. 

Then you saw it. 

On his right side, where his rib cage ends, there was a new tattoo. A flaming sword that you knew was based on his current—and favourite—Dungeons and Dragons campaign of his. 

He pointed to the pommel of the weapon, which was a heart shaped gemstone. 

“Did you see the end? It doesn’t have anything to do with the game, but I designed it while thinking of you.” He smiled at you, and you smiled back. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Eds.” You answered sincerely. “When did you get it done?”

“Friday. Right after your dad picked you up from the mall.”

“Did it hurt?”

He shook his head as he gently pushed you back against your pillows, then positioned himself on top of you.

“Not as much as it hurts to be away from you.”

You had to stifle your own laugh at his corniness. As stupid as it was, you did feel kind of flattered by him at that moment. And that’s exactly why you let him kiss you, despite you being just a few decibels away from your sleeping father waking up and grounding you permanently for sneaking a boy in. 

But you pushed all your worries aside and let him press his luscious lips against yours. God, how you couldn’t get enough of that sensation. 

You loved how he kissed you just because he likes to kiss you, how he used flavoured chapstick so he could heal his chapped lips, and how he always tasted faintly of cigarettes and the lemon candies you got him hooked on. 

You loved all that almost as much as what came next. 

When he moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, and then your neck. He nipped the skin just lightly and then continued to work his magic. You had both noted another time just like this that your bodies must be made for each other, and this exact moment was perfect proof for that claim. 

“Oh, god, Eddie. You’re so good at this.” You praised, trying to keep your voice down. 

He mumbled an ‘mhm?’ against your throat. He was such a sucker for your affirmations. 

“Yeah. Just be careful not to leave a bruise.”

Eddie lifted his head up, causing your face to morph into a frown from the expression of pleasure just a second ago. 

“You don’t want little reminders of my love?” He asked, lips exaggeratedly pouted. 

“Not when my family can see them, loverboy.”

He seemed satisfied with that response, returning his attention to you and practically attacking your neck with his kisses. The way his mouth was worshipping your neck damn near put you in a trance. It was so good that you didn’t even notice the soft knock at your door, nor the opening that followed it. 

When your younger sister called out your name softly, that’s when you realised the importance of not letting your guard down. You tried to push Eddie off of you as he hadn’t seen Eleven there yet, but he got up quickly once he did notice. 

You urged him to sit down and stay silent while you pulled El away from your bedroom and into the bathroom, all while your sister stared at you with a wide-eyed expression. 

Eleven was the first one to speak between you two. “Who was that in your room?”

“That was my friend.” You said, partially honest. He was your friend, he was just also more. “His name is Eddie.”

“What were you and Eddie doing?”

You racked your brain, trying to think of something believable to say that would get your sister off your back. You really should have prepared a lie before this, because it was proving to be more difficult than you would have thought; of course, you never really thought about your sister catching you making out with your shirtless boyfriend.

“We were playing.” You answered as confidently as possible. 

“Playing?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, you know when you and I play-fight, like wrestling? When Dad sometimes thinks we’re hurting each other but we’re really just having fun?”

“So you and Eddie were just having fun?”

“Mhm.” You ran a hand through her hair, feeling somewhat guilty about your lie. “Why? Were you worried about me?”

She didn’t seem fazed at all by your fingers combing through her hair, but her cheeks flooded with pink when you asked if she knocked on your door out of concern for you. 

“I heard you were awake and I wanted to know what you were doing.” Eleven told you. 

It really was nothing embarrassing, she’s just a shy girl. And now you felt less guilty about lying since you know she was just curious rather than upset. 

“Well, I was just playing with my friend. But, don’t tell Dad about Eddie, okay?”

“Why not?”

Another question you didn’t quite have an answer for. Luckily, you were quick enough on your toes that your little sister wouldn’t notice the nonsense spilling from your mouth. 

“You know Dad can be a fun sponge sometimes. Like when he spends an hour questioning your friends before you can hang out, or when he won’t let us turn the couch into a pillow fort. If he hears about Eddie, he won’t let us have fun together anymore, and I would be really sad if I couldn’t see my friend.”

She seemed to be eating your excuse up, knowing exactly what you meant.

“Okay. I won’t tell him.” She agreed. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

“And I don’t want you to be tired, little lady. So, now that you know what you wanted to learn, how about you go back to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, goodnight.”

She opened the slightly creaky bathroom door and headed back to her bedroom, hopefully to fall back asleep soon. 

“Goodnight, El. Sleep tight.” You called in a volume just above the whisper you were using just seconds before.

You stood in the bathroom alone after you heard your sister’s bedroom door close. For a minute, you just listened to everything around your house. The quiet wind blowing outside, the sounds of Eddie flipping through your books as he waited for you to come back, and best of all, not a peep from your father’s room. 

It was safe to return to Eddie in your bedroom and resume the fooling around from before. 

Once you silently pushed open your door, closed it again, and sat down next to your boyfriend on the corner of your bed, he pulled you onto his lap. 

“So, we’re in the clear now?” Eddie asked you. 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can be any less careful than usual. That just proves my family can hear us, so let’s not be stupid.”

A flirty grin spread across Eddie’s face as he trailed his fingers under your shirt and up your sides. “Baby, I can’t promise anything. Stupid is my middle name.”

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

[pablitogavii]

Stormy nights sin papà

Pablo was on his way back from Berlin and you were at home with your son Matteo who because of school couldn’t travel with his papà this time.

You were very strict when it came to his education and even if he got angry at you from time to time, you knew it was your job as a parent.

“Hola amor, donde está mi chaval?” Pablo as on the phone with you the moment he landed and Matteo moved closer so his face was on the phone.

“Hola chaval, do you miss papá?” Pablo asked and Matteo just nodded shyly seeing his friends around saying hello as well.

“Did you protect mamá for papi like you promised huh?” He said and now you got shy as well when the little boy hugged you and nodded.

“ When should we expect you home amor?” You ask

“We just need to go to the camp for pictures and I’ll be on my way home, preciosa..unless you need me sooner?” He said and you shook your head telling him to finish all his responsibilities.

“Bueno. Te amo!” Pablo waved

“Tell papi te amo Mat..” you waved too and Matteo babbled shyly

“Te amo papi” he whispered before you hung up the phone finishing the dinner and helping Matteo with the rest of his homework.

As it got late and you finished all his schoolwork, it was time to get ready for bed. Pablo texted that he will be home soon but you wanted Matteo to go to bed on time since he has a quiz in the morning.

“Mamá..I can’t sleep” he said walking into your master room and you helped him climb into your bed.

“Que pasa chaval? No te gusta thunderstorms huh? Mi también..” you admit that being one big fear Pablo helped you with always.

“Donde está papá?” He asked the same questions I had..where was Pablo now!?

Another loud thunder made both me and the little boy hug fearfully. You reached for your phone calling Pablo who quickly answered.

“Hola mi amor. Traffic is crazy with the storm, I’m almost home. Como estas preciosa I know you hate storms” he said on video call and you showed him Matteo glued to your side.

“We are both scared of storms..si chaval?” You say

“Si, mamá and I want you here papi” he added making you blush and Pablo smile wide. He loved feeling needed like this.

“Aii mis amores you want papi to tell you the story he always tell mamá when she is scared while I’m driving home huh?” He said seeing your blushing face as you both nodded. The boy might be a mini version of Gavi but his eyes were scared just lie yours right now.

Pablo spoke softly and every time there was a loud thunder he would tell you how much he loves both of you..and you would say it back forgetting about loud sounds. Until he was finally home..

“Someone said they needed papi?” He walked in still holding his phone and both of you rushed to hug him. He held you with one hand and Matteo in other kissing you all over your cute faces.

“Welcome home Pablito, congrats on the victory” you say and he kissed your lips. Taking off his jacket and back pack.

“Thank you mi amor..it was hard being away from the two of your for two night..I miss my little family.” He said and you smile seeing how excited Matteo was that his papi is finally home.

“Then how about we all sleep together tonight, sounds good Mat?” You say and the boy was overjoyed kissing your cheek

“And to give papi besitos chaval?” He said jealous and Matteo jumped in his arms kissing his cheek while Pablo smiled looking towards you with heart eyes.

Another thunder made you jump.

“Let’s protect mamá chaval!” Pablos aid as they both joined you in bed and Pablo pulled you against his strong chest with you little boy between you two.

“Te amo muchísimo “ you say and he leaned down to kiss your lips while Matteo was peacefully asleep on his chest.

“Yo te amo mi reina..and our little chaval. You are both so cute for being scared of thunderstorms” Pablo said and you smiled.

“Hmm papi is always there to protect us” you say with a smile and Pablo nods proudly kissing the top of Matteo’s head and your lips.

“Siempre.” He said as you both cuddled up close to your son and fell asleep happy together.

[hyuburt]

I think Fantasy High would look good animated in the total drama style since they’re both chalk full of chaotic sweaty teenage energy. Here are the bad kids on their first day of school

[ID: Two images of the same lineup of characters, with the top one being the colored version and the lower one being the line art. They depict the six main characters from D20′s Fantasy High from tallest to smallest; Gorgug, Fabian, Kristen, Adaine, Fig, and Riz. They are all drawn and colored mostly in line with canon, with some slight variations to accommodate the total drama style. Gorgug’s eyes were stylized into two white dots with slight bags underneath, and he is standing upright with his hands nervously brought up to his chest with a slightly timid expression on his face. His hoodie is a slightly de-saturated purple with grey sweatpants and purple sneakers. He has dark green skin and black wavy hair that falls above one eye. His wobbly, down-turned mouth has a tusk poking out of the higher side (he normally has two, it’s just the way his expression was drawn made it so only one was visible.) His face shape and nose are rounded to give him a softer appearance and there are two little lines indicating the beginning of teenage stubble on his chin. Next to him on the right is Fabian, who stands with his arms crossed and his head turned haughtily to the right, a smug expression on his face. He is wearing his red owlbear jacket with white sleeves, greyish brown loose workout pants, a black undershirt, and red sneakers. He has brown skin and swept back white hair that is shaved on the sides. His nose slopes downwards and he has two eyelashes under both eyes to denote that he is a fancy, pretty boy. He is drawn with a strong, square jawline and a build that is both muscular yet nimble.To his right is Kristen who has a stocky, more rounded build and is wearing a rainbow tie dye shirt with a simplified corn logo in the center, denim shorts, green flip flops, and a rainbow bracelet. She has curly orange hair that curls around her round face, light tan skin with freckles, bushy orange eyebrows, an upturned nose, and dark green eyes that are upturned in a smile. To her right is Adaine, who is slouched slightly with her arms crossed and an unhappy expression on her face as she looks off to the ground. She is wearing blue circular glasses over her round blue eyes, her blue two-piece hudol uniform, knee-high grey socks, and black mary jane shoes. She has light brown skin and short, straight blonde hair swept back from the front of her face in a widow’s peak. She has a small, pointy nose and a circular face with a small pointy chin. Above her is a version of her face without her glasses. To her right is Fig, who is standing proudly with one hand on her hip and the other in a finger gun. She has light reddish skin and brown hair in a braid that has a bright purple streak in her bands and at the end of her braid like it was dipped in paint. She has a long, pointy face and a slightly hooked nose. Her eyes are a dark pomegranate color and slightly upturned. She is wearing purple lipstick, a short leather jacket with a cropped grey shirt underneath it that has a picture of a horned skull on it, a black choker, fingerless gloves on both hands, a plaid skirt and belt with black leggings underneath, dark brown boots, and a single fishnet coming up to her calf on her right leg. To her right is Riz, who is holding a magnifying glass up to his face with one eye squinted to see through it and his other hand on his hip. A single fang peeks through the corner of his small smile. He has a green tail that swishes in front of him. He is wearing his signature brown cap and two piece suit with mauve pants, vest, and tie. His skin is light green with freckles under his eyes, his eyes are light greenish-yellow with slits for pupils, and his hair is dark green and swept back under his cap. Above him is a version of his head without his cap, showing that his hair is swept back from the front and curls away from his face, giving him a windswept appearance.]

[mochinomnoms]

Ok si for the small snippet requests- ptm jadeyuu, but it's at the point where yuu starts getting a little downbad and just starts playing into jades lil scenarios more and he freaks out cause his day is going SO MUCH BETTER now. Thank you!

🦩

Having a crush when you're a mind reader can have its cons...but also some pros~

Also I wrote this while listening to Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, I very recommend listening while reading for the vibe

You blew hot air against your hands, rubbing them as you watched the snow fall outside the window.

Winter had come early this year and your dorm members had taken to playing in the snow. Everyone was enjoying themselves, even Aspen was smiling, though yelping as he was smacked in the face by a snowball.

You laughed as he chased after Tony, tackling him into the ground as they both cackled with a red flush over their cheeks.

Ramshackle had very little traffic, even with the students in your care, which left it rather pristine and ideal for making snowmen and fights. Plenty of students from the other dorms were hanging around between classes, some even in your kitchen making warm drinks and snacks.

Which is why you weren't surprised when a mug of hot chocolate appeared in your peripheral vision. Looking up, you softly smiled and gave a small 'thank you' as you took the mug from Jade, who took a spot next to you, leaning against the porch railing to watch the small group of students playing in the snow.

He was in the winter version of the school uniform, which just came with a thicker jacket, a scarf, boots, and snow gloves. Though, you're positive that Aspen mentioned that none of them needed it, as they were well acquainted with the cold. It was mostly to keep up appearances, Floyd being the exception as he forwent the gloves and jacket.

My pretty pearl, you look radiant against the snowfall. I feel like I'm falling for you all over again…

Your cheeks warmed, despite the biting cold, and you masked your smile behind your mug as Jade stared at you from the corner of his eyes. When you dared to look at him, his gazed immediately darted back to the others. He had a red flush over his cheeks, which could be due to the cold, but you knew better.

Both of you chuckled as Silas, holding a giant snowball over their head, jumped and slammed the snow on top of Yaqub's head with a shit eating grin.

“They seem to be having fun. I know Floyd is coming over to have a snowball fight with Tony in a bit, will you be joining?”

You shook your head, watching the marshmallows swirl in your mug.

“Nah, I'm probably gonna head in here in a few. My hands are freezing, and I don't have gloves anyways.” You sighed, drinking your hot chocolate and relishing in the warmth flowing to your belly.

Jade tilted his head, watching as you lifted one of your hands to blow on it again.

“Would you like some help warming up?” You weren't surprised at the flash of an image of Jade and you 'warming up' in front of the lounge fireplace under a lush blanket. “I'm happy to assist.”

You know what response he was waiting for. You know that he'd come to expect your flustered and panicked stammering, putting as much space between you two as possible. It's a very 'you' response.

I can do this, I can give the same energy! Yeah! No more playing around with me, Jade! It's my turn!

“Hmm? And just how do you plan to 'warm me up' Jade~” You cooed, batting your eyelashes and smiling up at him.

You're surprised just how…sultry that came out. I didn't think I could sound like…like…something out of Jade's daydreams! Jade seemed surprised as well, snapping his head to stare at you.

His face still had his same polite smile, though you swear his cheeks turned a bit more red.

“…Pardon? Could you repeat that?” Jade asked, though there was a bit of breathlessness to his voice.

Did you…no I must have imagined…

“Well, there's lots of ways to warm someone up,” You shrugged, looking down at your drink and tracing the edge of the mug. “You caaaan…start a fire…get me a blanket…skin to skin contact…”

Haaaah, is this real?

“Human lovers will cuddle with each other, and do more...intimate things together to warm up.” You finally turned to face him, watching him visibly swallow.

Now I'm just being mean.

“Is…that so? That's good to know.” Jade's voice sounded strained, though his face betrayed very little. If it wasn't for the screaming echoing through his mind, you wouldn't be able to tell this was effecting him.

“Mmh, so, Jade~” You slowly crept closer to him, your still free hand doing the same along the rail to inch closer to his fingertips.

“How do you plan to warm me up, Jade?”

You had to crane your head to look up, causing a creak in the back of your neck, as there was barely an inch of space between you two. Frankly, though, it was worth it to see the wide-eyed surprise on his face.

It's real! Bless the Seven! It'srealIt'srealIt'srealIt'srealIt'sreal—

“Well, I—”

“Can watch everyone while I warm up in the kitchen!” You chirped, quickly backing away and smiling. “I'm sure it's plenty warm in there with the others running the oven!”

W-what?

Hmph, that's what he gets. You started walking away towards the front door, a smug smile on your face. Just a taste of what he puts me through every day—

You swallowed a shriek as Jade caged you against the wall with his arms, dropping your mug in surprise. You could hear it clatter against the wood floor and the hot drink fizzle against the cold surface.

Curling in on yourself, you looked up at Jade, who was giving you a smile and narrowed glare, his sharp teeth visible. He had a glint in his eyes and his flush was growing down to his neck.

“Now, now my dear,” he leaned down, speaking softly as he hovered his face closer and closer to yours, until you pressed your hands against his chest, stopping him.

“It's not nice to be a tease, stunts like that would get you eaten up in the sea.” Jade's nose brushed against yours, his smile growing as you grew more flustered.

“Unless, you're trying to be a tease~” Jade's right hand moved to graze your cheek with his finger.

This is going too far, I should…

Your skin felt tingly as he ghosted down to your chin, tracing the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip.

“Talking about lovers, acting coy.”

…I should make him…stop…

He pulled it down, ever so slightly, making you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Cute…

“You shouldn't play around with things like that.”

“I'm…not…” you let out a whimper as his breath mixed with yours, lips hovering over your own. You could hear his breath hitch at the sound.

“No? Then prove it, unless you want me to 'warm you up' in front of everyone?”

Swallowing another whimper and feeling your cheeks and body warm from something other than your drink, you licked your lips. You felt him shudder as your lips just barely brush, moving to press them together—

“Ooooh, how scandalous!”

You shrieked, out loud this time, shoving Jade away as you accidentally smack his face to get some space between you two.

“Ack!” Jade covered his face with his hands, wrinkling his nose from the sudden pain.

You stared in a mix of embarrassment and bewilderment at the small group watching you two at the railing.

Silas was grinning, fulling leaning his body over the railing as he kicked his legs behind him like a child. Yaqub and Tony looked just as amused, the former hiding his giggling behind his hand. Aspen, to no one's surprised, had a sour look on his face, disappointed even, while Wynfred was pouting. Marion had the decently to look embarrassed that he was caught staring, looking down at his feet like they were the most interesting things he'd seen all day. James, sweet James, just looked confused.

“…I didn't know you two were dating?”

“We're not!” You waved your hands in a panic, laughing nervously as you stepped away from Jade, who was now glaring at the group with an annoyed frown.

“Then, why were you two kissing—” James jumped, as did the rest of the group as you screeched.

“HE WAS JUST BLOWING HOT AIR ON MY HANDS, THAT'S IT! NOTHING ELSE!”

You laughed manically as you clapped your hands, inching closer to the door.

“You know I'm still cold! Are you guys cold? Yeah, you are!” You continued nervously laughing as you turned and practically bolted to the front door, the snow on the ledges falling from the sheer force of your slam.

The group and Jade stared at where you disappeared, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop in the snow.

“…So you two were, like, totally making out, right?” Silas asked, letting out an 'oof' as Marion smack that back of their head, making them fall face-first into the wooden patio.

Jade gave his signature smile, bowing his head.

“Perhaps you all should go back to playing, I should check on the poor Prefect, though might I advise not interrupting a pair's private conversation next time?”

Yaqub scoffed, elbowing Tony as he teased, “Conversation, sure. Maybe next time you two should have your next 'conversation' in the bedroom?”

The two snorted, Tony choking into a cough at Aspen's glare.

“Thank you for the kind suggestion, I'll be sure to consider it.” Jade called out as he entered the dorm, determined to continue from where you two left off.

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on. 

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress. 

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa. 

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch. 

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone. 

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him. 

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him. 

“Logan!” 

And then he turned around. 

And now they're here. 

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman. 

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch. 

His breath catches in his chest. 

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety. 

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep. 

“...Wade, please.” 

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep. 

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again? 

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not. 

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.” 

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic. 

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–” 

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small.  Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now. 

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

[darkdemeter]

☾ phases collection issue #4 IN THE HEAT OF HER MOMENT

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x GN/Female/Male Mafia!Werewolf!Reader SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI — MxF version pairing — FxF version pairing — unprotected sex — mutual oral receiving — P in V sex — knotting — marking —profanity — pet names: Lamb, Mate, Baby, etc — established relationship — minor depiction of mafia activity — married couple fluff and love — reader is just a softie for Wanda — I think that's it? ✎ 3.1k Happily married to the woman and mate of your dreams, where else to spend your honeymoon as newlyweds than the stunning resort beaches in the tropical islands. But first, you and Wanda have to take care of some heat.

✎ a note from the author, Bit of a mafia au because I just can't escape it, and I wanted to write some more mafia wandawolf.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

IV.  What is a mated life but the promise of commitment? A wolf’s life can oftentimes be lonesome and hollow, with no special one to turn to. And it’s far more unlikely that the pairing between two opposites could be so right. With a mate for the wolf to call their own, special needs are required to be met, till death and beyond you cannot part. 

  If there is one way to describe Wanda, it’s that she’s needy. Perfectly needy. After landing in the tropical retreat of your private island, a treat for your wife, you’d taken swiftly to the villa in order to settle her eagerness to consummate your marriage. Not that this will be the first time you’ve both had sex, far from it. Back in your estate towards the city it wouldn’t be put past you both to have thoroughly broken in every room. 

  As evidently showing, you both were quite the couple. How Wanda hasn’t mothered several litters by now? Well, your parents and their old schooled tenants decreed that you both be married first before you both go siring a dozen or so pups to grow the family. 

  Almost a year later after that little sit down, here you are, closing the door to the villa with Mrs. L/N sauntering inside, hands smoothing down the curves of her body and her fitted, white gown. 

  You’ve barely begun loosening the collar of your shirt when she’s on you, pulling you in by the lapel of your jacket into a heated, passionate kiss, one of many you have already shared and will continue to. Seeking the comforting weight of her in the palms of your hands, you seek out her hips, massaging slowly with a low groan she melds with a moan of her own. 

  Her heels clatter to the polished floorboard hurriedly, meanwhile, her slender hands comb through your hair, dishevelling its tidiness and down your front, she practically is pawing you to remove your clothing. 

  “Dammit, Lamb,” you chuckle against her mouth. She slips her tongue past your teeth, tongues wrestling at the behest of her challenge. 

  “I need you,” she sighs into the kiss breathlessly. 

  Ring adorned fingers press into her hips firmly at her pleaful cry. “I know, darling. I know.” Your lips move to caress the cute curve of her jawline, taking care with every inch of her precious skin down her neck, she leans into you as she tries to capture your lips once more. 

  “Sure you don’t want to pay a visit to the beach?”

  Shaking her head, she’s pulling you towards the loft’s staircase. “Tomorrow. Right now, I want you.”

  “No complaining whatsoever,” you retort with a cheeky wink, following her insistent lead. 

  She giggles as she begins to race up the stairs with you close at her heel, the ghost of your presence haunting her lovingly, no sooner do you both reach the upper floor do you sweep your wife into your arms and she playfully shrieks in surprise. You hoist her up and spin, her arms encircle around you tightly, your embrace one of comfort and assured strength. 

  A promise, just as the gold around your fingers, that you’ll be for each other. Protect each other. You meet with another kiss, slower but no less passionate. 

  The glimmer of gold suits her finger. For you, it’s a precious addition that pales the rest across the bottom of your knuckles. 

  You carry Wanda over to the empty bed and lay her down, her hair fans around her with a cherishing, silvery-blonde halo she’d dyed before the wedding, and a smile that could warm the coldest days of winter and cure you of any level of anger. Wanda Maximoff has been a very influential figure in your life from day one. 

  From first meeting her, circumstances unlikely, you’d always felt your chest become alight with a flutter you always dreaded the absence of when she was gone. 

  And the more she visited, the more you experienced that flutter in your chest that came to bloom throughout your entire body and soul. But also the more her mere visits left a deep and dark burrow of void in your heart. At some point or another - and you were sure it occurred after a bit too much in the indulgence of whiskey and meeting with the Stark and Barnes Families to discuss business - you realise that Wanda is meant to be with you. No matter who else you met, they never gave you that same feeling. 

  Wanda was your destined mate. As frightful as it was, her rejection had been nothing but a case of anxiety and doubtful, nightmarish thoughts. Because the moment you asked her under the stars and full moon if she’d be your girl, her happy shrieks that filled the entirety of Central Park confirming your deepest wish, you became whole. 

  She blinks at you. Curiosity fills her beautifully serene and creamy jade hues that glow in the setting sun’s light. “What is it, Wolfie?”

  You shake your head at the memories that consume you. You shower her with a toothy grin she cannot help but reciprocate. 

  “You’re just so beautiful.”

  “Kiss me…”

  Mouths connecting with a symphony of low groans and purring moans, your bodies meld together, sliding against each other as your hands explore each other, slowly peeling away the layers of formality, discarding them to the floor until the two of you were bare before the other. 

FEMALE

  She whispers your name across the skin of your neck, hands running over inked landscape, each single mile holding a memory to her, just as you do for her. One hand comes between the two of you to stroke her, tender and affectionately attentive, she curls into you with a pleased whine.

  “Yes, Wolf,” she coos softly, “just like that.”

  You work her gently at first, soon growing a bit firmer with rubbing, circling her clit that makes her spine arch and her toes curl. 

  You slide your middle finger into her tight pussy that clenches around it, her heat pulsing that it makes you sigh with a chuckle. 

  “Baby, you’re soaking.”

  She hides her face in the crook of your neck with a pout, mumbling something amidst her pampering of kisses along your shoulder. You bend and curve your finger, in and out, in and out until she pants quietly to the shell of your ear, her nails embedding crescents into the muscle of your shoulders. 

  She begs you for more, encouraging you that she can take more. Obliging your mate, you slip two more fingers inside and begin to ever so faintly stretch her walls. 

  She pushes herself into you, soft gasps on the tip of her tongue and entangled in finery of pleasures. You curl your fingers inside her, pushing them further and to the knuckle. Her hands run down your sides, her touch is feathery, taking in every detail that maps your body, every mark, scar and tattooed line until she reaches the small of your back. 

  “R-right there,” she winces blissfully, hips abrupt in their suddenness to meet your thrusting fingers. Her release a coiling rubber band that’s bound to snap at an instant. As you perform on her, she reaches one of her own hands down, fingertips stroking along your equally sickened folds. “A-ah… hah,” you grin, and so cutely she admits to herself, shyly. 

  “I want to please my wife as well,” she says with a light tune. Her thumb rolls over your clit smearing the aroused juices of your pussy and your hips jerk again. Her hand cups you and she begins to massage her middle and ring finger against your entrance and then slips them inside, working to match your pace. 

  Rocking into the motion of the other, the rising of your releases are woven together, her sounds alone to get you off; her fingers only aided with hastefulness. 

  A series of intermingling moans shatter to the air, breaking the oath of stillness to the flood of your orgasms. You hot breath fans over her face and she smiles wistfully, her chest rising and breasts pushing to yours, the connection bringing a sense of electricity between you. 

  Her legs wrap around you the moment your fingers slide back inside her cunt, your claws bringing a more daring edge that leaves her utterly breathless in her lungs.   “Y-yes! More, more! Just like that.”

 Her eyes roll back and her dark lashes flutter erratically, her voice strangled by her moans and her body becomes tense, hips rolling into the thrusts of your fingers before her mouth flies open with a pleasured cry. Barely over the first and already she is taken hold by her second wave.

  A moment of pure stillness and then immediate relaxation, her body finds itself floating high in the clouds as the hot, white flash consumes her. Your nose finds the juncture of her neck and your canines graze the delicate spot and she leans her chin to the side, providing more access for your leisure. 

  “I love you,” she gasps again and again. You answer, voice a husky octave, “I love you too.”

Your teeth break the surface of her skin and she winces, the riding of her high tunes out the sliver of pain, only to find her body unnaturally calmed by you. Your scent becomes stronger to her senses, the aroma of your expensive cologne is drowned out by the natural tranquillity of your natural smell; that of the pine forests, heavily wooded and hidden, the wild valleys of flowers and the crispness of freshly fallen snow. 

  Everything under her skin is warmed like nothing before. It’s not the same as a coat keeping out the cold, or feeling another’s warm skin against her. It is a feeling that envelops her on the inside like a warm, assuring blanket. A haven that guarantees she’ll be safe. 

  And then the coolness of stars line her vision. Something bright and full floods her and she thinks she’s floating in the dawning nighttime sky. Her stomach is taken over by a billion flutters. 

“How do you feel, Lamb?” you ask and press your forehead to hers. “Breathe for me. That’s it, in and out. Deep and slow… you okay?”

  “I feel… amazing.” Her dazed eyes find yours in the darkness that almost hides you completely. Her fingers brush aside the straying locks of hair hanging over your face. 

  “The best I’ve ever felt.”

  “You’re gonna feel like that for quite a while,” you say. Chuckling, you steal a quick kiss from her, rolling over until she lays on top of you, hands holding her hips to you. 

 “I know this must be a strange question,” she begins hesitantly, but your hum of curiosity nudges her to continue. “Do you have a knot?”

  “I do… as a wolf.”

  “Then… maybe we could try?”

MALE

  She whispers your name across the skin of your neck, hands running over inked landscape, each single mile holding a memory to her, just as you do for her. One hand comes between the two of you to stroke her, tender and affectionately attentive, she curls into you with a pleased whine.

  “Yes, Wolf,” she coos softly, “just like that.”

  You work her gently at first, soon growing a bit firmer with rubbing, circling her clit that makes her spine arch and her toes curl. 

  You slide your middle finger into her tight pussy that clenches around it, her heat pulsing that it makes you sigh with a chuckle. 

  “Baby, you’re soaking.”

  She hides her face in the crook of your neck with a pout, mumbling something amidst her pampering of kisses along your shoulder. You bend and curve your finger, in and out, in and out until she pants quietly to the shell of your ear, her nails embedding crescents into the muscle of your shoulders. 

  She begs you for more, encouraging you that she can take more. Obliging your mate, you slip two more fingers inside and begin to ever so faintly stretch her walls, to get her ready to accommodate your cock that now stands hardened between her legs. 

  As you perform on her, she reaches one of her own hands down, fingertips stroking over your length and your hips jerk. “A-ah… hah,” you grin, and so cutely she admits to herself, shyly. 

  “I want to please my husband as well,” she says with a light tune. Her thumb rolls over your tip, smearing the beads of precum down the base, your hips jerk again. Her hand wraps around you and begins to massage and carefully tug, working to match your pace. 

  Rocking into the motion of the other, the rising of your releases are woven together, however before she has a chance to pull your orgasm from you, you stop her with a tut of your tongue. Her eyes shine with that concern, brows furrowing.

  “I wanna be inside you for that,” you breathe in reply, “I would like to finally experience that first, if you don’t mind.”

  She smiles at you. “Of course.”

  Nodding and still grinning, you usher her to her first climax of the honeymoon period. Her eyes roll back and her dark lashes flutter erratically, her voice strangled by her moans and her body becomes tense, hips rolling into the thrusts of your fingers before her mouth flies open with a pleasured cry.

  A moment of pure stillness and then immediate relaxation, her body finds itself floating high in the clouds as the hot, white flash consumes her.

  “So fucking wet, my little Mate.” Her slickness pools around the knuckles of your fingers, the whisper of her juices gushing from her tight hole as you withdraw paint a beautiful picture. You raise your fingers to your lips and allow your tongue to taste her, a hum of approval as your eyes shimmer in the setting darkness. 

  “You taste good, Lamb.”

  She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip with a bashful giggle followed by a moan of your name. Your lips part and she can taste herself on your tongue, you steady your weight above her with one hand beside her, the other guides your throbbing cock to her entrance.

  “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” With her assurance you press your waist forward and with a gasp, she spreads her legs wider as you push inside her. Walls wrapping around you, inch by inch, you succumb to the radiant heat of her cunt around you. For a moment you find yourself still. 

  Her tongue surrenders to you with the first initiated thrust, lost to the small noise creeping up the back of her throat and you nip her bottom lip playfully. Your cock strikes her, kissing her cervix until she’s chanting your name like a prayer, and you begin to drive more force behind it. Skin meeting against skin in a coursing pattern fills the room, growing louder with each thrust becoming harder and faster, you grunt and groan lowly.

  “I love you,” she gasps again and again. You answer, voice a husky octave, “I love you too.”

  “Cum inside me. P-please… cum in–side me.”

  To hear her talk so desperately sends your wolf brain into overdrive, your canines graze the juncture of her neck and she, accepting of your long-awaited mark, cranes her neck to the side. 

  “Cum with me, little Lamb. Come on, you can do it,” you pant hotly, “cum for me.”

  Her back arches off the bed and your legs wrap over your waist, hugging you closer as her walls clench around you like a vice. A howl passes a suppressed groan in your chest, eyes burning brightly of amber, her orgasm being the last straw for you. Your cock twitches and explodes, releasing your seed to paint her walls as you practically rut into her with mad intent.

  Your teeth break the surface of her skin and she winces, the riding of her high tunes out the sliver of pain, only to find her body unnaturally calmed by you. Your scent becomes stronger to her senses, the aroma of your expensive cologne is drowned out by the natural tranquillity of your natural smell; that of the pine forests, heavily wooded and hidden, the wild valleys of flowers and the crispness of freshly fallen snow. 

  Everything under her skin is warmed like nothing before. It’s not the same as a coat keeping out the cold, or feeling another’s warm skin against her. It is a feeling that envelops her on the inside like a warm, assuring blanket. A haven that guarantees she’ll be safe. 

  And then the coolness of stars line her vision. Something bright and full floods her and she thinks she’s floating in the dawning nighttime sky. Her stomach is taken over by a billion flutters. 

  You slow the grind of your hips to a pause and pull your teeth away from the mark, thumb wiping over it and her body jolts at the action, a reasonable reaction. 

  “How do you feel, Lamb?” you ask and press your forehead to hers. “Breathe for me. That’s it, in and out. Deep and slow… you okay?”

  “I feel… amazing.” Her dazed eyes find yours in the darkness that almost hides you completely. Her fingers brush aside the straying locks of hair hanging over your face. 

  “The best I’ve ever felt.”

  “You’re gonna feel like that for quite a while,” you say. Chuckling, you steal a quick kiss from her, rolling over until she lays on top of you, hands holding her hips to you; your knot strict in its place inside her pussy.

  “So once the knot goes down, I’m thinking we could try…”

—

The next morning would have been peaceful. Should have been peaceful. It was your fucking honeymoon after all. However, your phone interrupts the moment at the brink of dawn, the sun painting the sky with vivid pinks, purples and a colourful bow of deep orange. 

  You groan, hand fumbling aimlessly on the nightstand for the irritating noise. Finding the device, you clench it on your iron grip and raise the voice on the other end to your ear with a less than pleased huff.

  “The fuck you want?” 

  By your side, Wanda stirs. Her eyes peek open, the bare minimum of the sunlight gracing her angelic face, still showering her with comforting darkness, your arm that’s around her assuringly pulls her to your side, herskin melting under the contact with yours. 

 “Boss,” Sam says with relief, “I know it’s—”

  You growl deeply into the speaker, “My honeymoon. So this better be good.”

@alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz

[seiya234]

21 grams lighter

that website, amirite? anyway can't fucking believe alex did it again.

----

“Uncle Dipper, the school said you had to sign this?”

“Me specifically?”

Hank frowned. “Well, an adult in our house.”

“You’re the first one we found,” Willow added.

Dipper picked up the paper, skimming it quickly and. Oh.

Oh my god.

“Mabel are you in here?”

As the triplets wandered off, task done, a head covered in googly eyes popped out the kitchen door. “Mmmyes?”

Dipper brandished the papers. “Do you remember MADD?”

“Moms Are Down with Drugs? Yeah. We had to do those worksheets, and go to that rally in the gym, and there was a dog in a jacket.” Mabel paused. “Also, I don’t think they actually knew what it meant when you say you’re down with something.”

“Okay, so MADD… but for selling your soul.”

The googly eyes, with impeccable comedic timing, all fell off of Mabel’s face.

“No.”

“Oh my god, there’s a pamphlet.”

By now, Mabel had joined him at the table. “’Soul Selling: Not Even Once!’ Oh. Oh Dipper, this is bad.”

He was trying to hold in peals of laughter. “I know!”

“I don’t think this is going to discourage anyone.”

“I know.”

“And look, they basically give you the directions to summon five different demons in the name of Not Doing That, this is really, really bad.”

“I̶t̷'̴s̵ ̸f̸a̷n̶t̸a̴s̶t̷i̸c̵!̴”

Mabel looked at him, just looked at him for a minute, sadness welling deep in her eyes.

“No. No it’s really not.”

------

Trillions.

A number that is truly incomprehensible, much less in the context of time.

There were souls that rotted in that stomach longer than the oldest rocks of Earth.

--------

[from the M.A.D.D. Brochure, 2285]

“So remember kids, selling your soul doesn’t just effect you. It effects every version of you! It is an indelible mark that will linger for eternity, never changing, never going away. Paths, choices, loved ones, all will wither in the face of the horrible decision that you made! Eternity is forever, don’t make it your fault!”

[penciled in the margins, a note: “so we aren’t going to talk about social inequality or systemic racism then are we?”]

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

(the most eternal, sacred part of a being)

Dipper had been a demon for all of a month, if that, when he was offered his first soul. For a while, he… didn’t really do anything with them.

When he did, it was of course super traumatic for everyone involved but eh, that kind of went with the territory of everything that was happening in his life lately.

Point being, he never was sure why Bill kept everyone trapped inside of him, constantly screaming, constantly playing beach tunes to drown them out. No, better to eat them, get the power, set them free.

Like, obviously, not great to be eating souls in the first place, and yeah, yeah, he could tell, even ten thousand (ten million) (ten billion) years later who he had crunch munched through, but like, they were able to be out there living their lives! Doing stuff. Cycling back through.

Honestly. What had Bill been planning to do with them?

--------

For the first week after it happened, animals ran away from Mabel.

Not just cats and dogs but all animals. Flocks of birds would fly off at her approach, deer would get near the Shack and then run off, and Gompers disappeared into the woods.

After the bear ran screaming from her, Mabel put two and two together, and called Dipper.

“Is this forever?”

Dipper frowned. “What do you mean?”

Mabel waved at her body. “This.”

(it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair she was only 16/18/22/17, she didn’t mean for this to happen, she only wanted to live, he only wanted her to live, this wasn’t f a i r )

“Oh. Uh. Um.”

“Dipper. Just. Tell. Me.”

“Hold on.” He reached into his stomach, and pulled out something…. Ineffable.

It felt like every single cell in Mabel’s body was reaching towards it, she found herself walking towards Dipper’s open hand.

The demon looked at her.

“You can have it back.”

She was crying. When did she start crying? And more worryingly, why did it feel like this was the first real, true thing she had felt in a week?

He pushed the Ineffable thing into her chest, and Mabel sank to the ground, sobbing. She felt whole again.

She didn’t realize that she hadn’t been whole, not truly, not until now.

Alcor smirked. “Consider it… out on lease. I’ll take it back eventually.”

She should have challenged him on that. Should have asked him about that. Should have done a million trillion other things.

But Mabel was human. And scared. And so, so very young.

---------

(you were birds)

A young man with fluffy brown hair, mixing his blood with his sister and his new brother-in-law, making a promise.

(you were trees with roots entangled)

They made a family together, it was a beautiful family, they let him stay, stay when anyone else would have told him to leave.

(wherever we go next, whatever you choose, I will always be right there with you)

They fit, like spoons in a drawer, like yin and yang, salt and pepper, ketchup and mustard, literally a million different pairings you could compare the two of them to. They weren’t perfect but love doesn’t need to be, and shouldn’t be perfect.

(that’s done buddy)

One grave

(congratulations)

Another grave, but eighty years later.

(you chose Alcor instead)

[nhularin]

✉ -> invitation! ENHYPEN SOUR PROM

DO YOU WANT TO OPEN THE LETTER?

✓ proceed ✗ cancel

CONTENT ! a collection of enhypen drabbles based on Olivia Rodrigo's sour album!

PAIRING ? enhypen x reader

!! GENRE angst (hurt no comfort), fluff-ish, ex non idol! AU, childhood friends to lovers to strangers, early 2000s AU

꩜ WARNINGS ! infidelity, insecurities, toxic enha, tba

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ XTRA slow updates, english is not my first language so i apologize for grammar mistakes

₊ ⊹ A/N dont get fooled by the synopses, im pretty bad at writing summaries, they will be rewritten most likely once i published the first installment of the series!

https://www.TAGLIST-send/ask-or/comment.com

🕸️(5/7) completed

DEJA VU !! so when you gonna tell her, that we did that too?

nothing hurts more than seeing lee heeseung doing the stuff you both used to do with another girl. Watching him wrap his jacket around her, playing the same song you both liked around her. everything, from the way he touches her, gives her gifts, was a carbon copy of your relationship. does he get deja vu when he’s with her?

-> interested? read here!

1 STEP FORWARD 3 STEPS BACK will you walk me to my door or send me home crying?

if you had to describe your boyfriend park jongsaeng in one word, it'd be unpredictable. he was a gentleman, absolutely selfless when it came to his loved ones. somehow you seem to be the only exception. you didn't understand then, and you sure as hell don't understand now.

-> interested? read here!

DRIVERS LICENSE cause how could i ever love someone else?

everyone has warned you about the infamous playboy sim jaeyun, but you didnt pay attention to them. being childhood friends, you knew everything about each other. your flaws, insecurities, and aspirations, you thought that everything was perfect till it wasn't.

-> interested? read here!

ENOUGH FOR YOU dont you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded?

you tried everything, you really did. as the school's hottest student, park sunghoon was in constant spotlight, might it be with classmates or being the light of the party. and for that, you did your best at making your presence worthy in his life. but deep down, you knew you couldn't compete with the girls who seemed much better than you, people who are enough for him

-> interested? read here!

FAVORITE CRIME But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

kim sunoo was the personification of sunlight . everyone knew that! so when your friend introduced you to him you were naturally drawn to his open and kind nature. life seemed to be on your side but all the time and sacrifices towards him, all for nothing.

-> interested? read here!

HAPPIER does she mean you forgot about me?

being the school president's girlfriend wasnt easy and hell, if you could go back in time you wouldn't have even bothered associating yourself with the club. you two were the dream couple of east high, always being the talk of the school. but when you broke up, pictures of yang jungwon and the new girl started circulating around school. you should be happy for him, right?

-> interested? read here!

GOOD 4 U maybe you never cared at all?

nishimura riki is an egoistical asshole. thats the first thing ringing in your head when you wake up. being from rivaling dance groups, you thought that being in a relationship with the ace was your version of romeo and juliette, minus the tragedy part. but god, how wrong you were

-> interested? read here!

( !? ) PERM TAGLIST @sngvhs @misokei @avocarua @essmarye

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Your crush on Eddie was better off a secret and a kiss that should never have happened leads you into a storm.

I wasn't happy with my first version of chapter 4. So I polished it up and added a little more dialog. Feel free to wait for the next chapter but if you'd like to read it, either as a refresher or for the very first time, please let me know what you think. XOXO-Jelly

Masterlist Listen to Fake Plastic Trees Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC: 11646 beta'd by @superblysubpar

A sharp chill nips at your cheeks as gusts of autumn wind blow through the amber-leafed trees surrounding Hawkins High's parking lot. You pick at the splintered wood of the picnic table beneath you, etched with initials and scribbles. The anguished croon of Placebo plays through your headphones, drowning out the sounds of the start of another school day. Shifting the pile of books on your lap, you steal a glance at where Eddie stands with his back to you a few yards away.

Lately, it’s like your best friend has purchased real estate in your brain. Daydreams resulting in hearts doodled in the margins of your notebooks a little too close to where you printed his name. His dark curls spill over the collar of his worn denim vest, shadowing the frayed edges of the Dio patch he had sown on last week. He's deep in conversation with Dan Shelter, a senior in the same class that Eddie would have been in if he hadn’t missed so much time after his mother passed. They both turn and look at you at the same time.

Eddie’s eyes narrow as his brows pull tighter into a frown. You push one of your headphones back, and the noise of everyday chatter and car engines bursts into your reality. 

"You know your girlfriend is deeply weird, Munson," the spiky-haired jock says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket, not even trying to hide his distaste.

Girlfriend. You’ve both tried to stamp out that rumor—yet no matter who else you go out with, those sparks never last and pale in comparison to the steady flame you feel around Eddie. Would it really be so bad if it were true? The answer scares you more than you expect. 

"She’s not my girl," Eddie retorts with a swift shake of his head, his voice edged with that familiar bite of annoyance. His foot scuffs against the asphalt, the white Reebok stark against the black jeans clinging to his narrow hips. An impatient sigh pulls the fabric of his Hellfire Club t-shirt tighter across his chest, outlining his lean frame. "You in or out?" His fingers snap near Dan's face, the sunlight catching on his silver rings, "I've got other places to be, and you're not my only customer."

"Sure, whatever," Dan grumbles, extending a hand with a few crumpled bills.

Eddie accepts the cash with an easy smirk, teasing the dime bag between thumb and forefinger, letting it sway like a pendulum. Dan’s hand hovers while he glances around for prying eyes, but Eddie lets the bag drop to the ground before he can take it. 

"Oops," Eddie’s voice drips with feigned innocence before he pivots on his heel and walks away without a backward glance.

Dan’s face ignites with anger as he stoops for the bag, muttering a curse.

"Always a pleasure," Eddie calls over his shoulder, flashing a dismissive two-fingered salute. A gaggle of pink-cheeked girls from the sophomore class crosses his path, eyes trailing over him like he's their favorite song come to life.  

"Ladies." He extends an arm, waving them on, his voice as smooth as a melody. They flutter past with giggles and heated glances. Despite their whispers of 'freak' in the corridors, they all vie for a chance to climb into the back of his van when no one is looking – to be the subject of the rumors they'd later deny.

He never hides his interest when he likes a girl — everybody knows when Eddie Munson is into someone. But he’s never looked at you that way, never given you that smile meant for those he desires. And that’s something that has never bothered you. Now, it stirs something else — a green thorny vine wrapping around your insides. He’s just Eddie – your friend. The same old Eddie, you reaffirm, even as your heart whispers lies of a different tune.

Without missing a beat, he saunters over, the rhythmic clink of his chain wallet punctuating each step. He leaps onto the picnic table, landing beside you with a thud, sending vibrations through the timeworn wood. His eyes linger on the girl's retreating forms.

"You need to be careful, Eddie," you warn, tipping your chin toward where Dan is stalking off in a dark cloud of annoyance.

"Careful is my middle name, doll." He smiles a big, sly grin, dimples deepening, causing a flutter in your chest, an unexplained sensation that's become strangely frequent these days.

He nods at your leg, eyes dropping to your thigh. "What’s this?" His dark lashes make half-moon shadows on his cheek as his thumb brushes over the square field of bright white crosses covering the denim patch on your jeans.  A trail of tingles follows, unbidden and unwelcome. You disguise the shiver as a chill from the wind, even as you crave more of his touch.

"It’s called sashiko," you explain, hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin as the ghost of his touch lingers. "The art of visible mending." 

"Looks cool." His gaze meets yours, a little too intense and a little too long. Your fingers clutch your notebooks tighter, a shield against whatever this feeling is.

"Are you coming over after school?" Your voice is steadier than you feel.

"I’ll drop you off, but I’ve got to go back to the trailer after," Eddie replies, his eyes still holding yours in a silent conversation you can't quite interpret. "I’ve got stuff to do." Something in his tone suggests layers you're not ready to peel back. "Not your kind of stuff."

The house where Eddie grew up doesn't look the same anymore. Someone else has moved in – keeping the lawn perfect and fixing up all the broken things, erasing any traces of tragedy. The neighborhood has moved on, absolving themselves like they hadn’t just turned their back and let it happen. As if it wasn't their problem. Eddie's staying on the other side of town now with his Uncle Wayne in a tiny one-bedroom trailer. Wayne's heart is in the right place, even if he drinks too much, just like Eddie's dad did. But he's not bad, just... lost when it comes to dealing with an angry teen, and with him working nights, Eddie's on his own to figure out how to deal with it all. 

"I can keep you company?” You try to keep the offer casual despite the hump in your pulse.

He shakes his head, a shadow crossing his features. "Nah, I’ve got to stop at Rick's, then a run." There's a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before.

You frown and look away, hiding your disappointment. "I don’t see what the big deal is," you argue, keeping your voice low, "We smoke together all the time."

"The big deal," he says, reaching out to lift your chin and forcing you to look at him. "Is that this is business, and I don’t want you involved. Alright?" His voice is firm, letting you know he won’t budge. "I’ll pick you up later," he promises. "Movie night. Just us."

The shrill ring of the bell is your cue to retreat, to put distance between you and these feelings threatening to upend everything. You nod at him, shoving your books into your bag. His gaze holds you for a heavy beat before breaking away. There's a shift in the air, a prelude to something you can't name, like the static before a storm. Eddie's last glance sears itself into your thoughts when you part ways at the door. 

As you make your way to class, those feelings nag at you like a forgotten lyric. You hug your arms, trying to squeeze out the persistent ache that spreads through your limbs. It's a tangible pain, this longing, like a hand squeezing around your heart, making it hard to breathe.

But you push it all down, guarding it like a secret. To lock it away in the confines of your ribcage, where it can't taint the one thing you value most. The friendship you've built is too important, too rare to risk on a silly crush that might only live in your head and fade with time. It’s a gamble you won’t take. You can't lose him. You won’t watch that light in his eyes dim for you, awkward silences replacing the laughter. Without him, you’d be alone.

Cold gray days give way to dark, inky nights. The stars and moon are veiled behind thick cotton clouds, stealing the light earlier as fall edges closer to winter. Winds gust, sending wet leaves sticking to the glass of your office windows as the bare fingers of the boxwoods planted around the brownstone scratch against the house in protest.

Lowering the lid of your laptop, the light in the room dims as the brightness is trapped between the two halves. Your arms stretch over your head, loosening the tension in your neck as you push away from your desk, drifting towards the sounds of life from the living room. Steve’s long legs are stretched out on the chaise end of the couch, a Bulls game on the TV, but his attention is stuck on the laptop resting on his thighs. 

“My eyes are going to fall out my head if I stare at that screen for any longer,” you declare, rounding the corner of the couch.

“Well, then, come stare at this screen instead.” He nods at the TV, extending his arm to make space for you to crawl onto the couch next to him and fit yourself into his side. 

“You’re so warm.” You nuzzle into his chest, and his lips touch the top of your head. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“I’ll wake you up when it’s time for bed. I still have a few hours of work left,” he sighs, his finger sliding down the trackpad as he scrolls through a document that never seems to end. 

“Is that for the launch?” Your eyes squint at the brightness of the screen. 

He groans at the ping of another incoming email while toggling between the many windows he has open. “Yeah, we're in the final stretch. The event team is trying to finalize the details. Maroon 5 and Fallout Boy are locked in to perform, but we’re still waiting to hear back from a few other acts and about a million other details that need ironing out.”

“It’s going to be a great night, baby. Everyone will be so impressed,” you assure, the arm you have draped across his stomach tightening, trying to impress your words into him. “Everything is going to go smoothly, you’ll see.”

He scoffs, doubt clouding his voice. “I wish I had your confidence. The server's capacity is still a question mark, and we're racing to fix streaming delays. Fuck!” The heels of his hands press into his eyes. “All I need is this thing to fail at the last minute, especially with Richard and my dad watching.” He imitates his father's stern tone, “Typical. He’s always been a fuck up. Chokes right before the buzzer.” Letting his hands drop, his eyes turn to you. “I should have listened to you and not invited my parents. I actually never thought they would agree to come. Now I’m running around trying to get things ready for them too.”

“Hey,” you take one of his hands between yours, “That’s not going to happen, Steve. If the servers have issues or if there's a lag, it's just a hiccup. You've got a team to handle that. You've put in the work, and you're brilliant at what you do. Your parents will see that. Everyone will.” 

He manages a smile, but it’s just a placation.

“What can I do to help?” You ask, “I’ll make sure we have some Pellegrino stocked and that cheese your parents like.”

There's a pause as he weighs his next words. “I’ve already called the housekeeper and told them to put fresh sheets in the guest room in case they decide to stay here, but I still need to make a reservation at the Four Seasons as a backup.”

Your jaw tightens, but you curb your annoyance at how John Harrington has everyone trained to cater to his high-maintenance whims, but this is for Steve’s peace of mind. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow. Consider it done. Anything else?”

He hesitates, a little apologetic. "My suit... the dry cleaner closes early tomorrow. I hate to ask, but I might not make it in time–"

“No problem. I’ll make time.”

His lips lift at the corners, and this time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I love you.” He leans forward, slotting his lip softly between yours. “I’ll put the ticket in your bag. Thanks for helping out, Ace.”

“I just have Eddie's interview tomorrow afternoon. I should have plenty of time." Standing, you tug at his hand. "Now, can we go to bed? Everything will look better after a good night's sleep.”

His mouth sets in a determined line as he shuts down his laptop, yielding to your pull as he rises. His hand finds a place on the small of your back, grounding you both as you climb the stairs together. 

Hitching the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder, you kick at a loose stone on the sidewalk in front of the brick building. Car horns blare in the distance as traffic rolls by in the busy neighborhood.  The sun casts a glint off the steel CursedSound sign, its metal already weathering with a faint tinge of color. The heavy door is yanked open, its clank and whine making you jump. 

"Hi," Eddie greets you with a soft tone from the other side of the threshold.

"Hi," you return, shyness adding a tremble to your voice that shouldn’t be there. His fingers grip the edge of the door, and light flashes off the Rolex peeking out from under the cuff of the plaid flannel he wears over a fitted v-neck and jeans, the fabric snug against his defined shoulders. It’s still a novelty to see how his slim build has filled in over the years. Part of you still expects the boy you knew instead of this man in front of you. He looks you over in the same way, like he’s trying to decide if you’re really there. Maybe it’s the differences he sees in you, too, or does he still see the lonely girl he once knew? You shift your gaze down the street, your toes curling inside your Converse as warmth climbs up your neck. "Are you going to let me in?"

"I don't know." He pretends to ponder, a smile forming, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Where's your hard hat?"

Tilting your head to the side, you purse your lips until he breaks into a chuckle. He swings the door open wider, welcoming you in. You pass him with a shake of your head and continue down the hall. 

The lobby is in chaos.

"Sorry for the mess. The maid took the week off," he quips, watching you take in the space. 

The brown paper has been removed from the windows, allowing bright light to stream through the streaked and dirty glass. All the furniture has been pushed toward the center of the room, and ladders and paint cans litter the floor space. A large mural wrapping around the windows and front entrance has been outlined but not completed. In the same graffiti style as the one upstairs, this one displays more cityscapes with waves of the lake breaking at the forefront. Winged skulls and guitars blend with colorful swirls of clouds rising toward the ceiling. 

"It’s perfect," you tell him as your eyes follow the sweeping, colorful lines around the room. “Really beautiful.”

"Was that a compliment?" He asks, coming up behind you, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "I thought it was a dump."

"Well, what can I say?” You spin around. “It’s growing on me." Your fingers move to your lips, concealing your smile as his deepens with your praise. 

"You look really good." His low voice bounces off the empty walls, "I mean…your, uh, outfit is nice." He waves his hand toward you before wiping it on the front of his jeans. 

Your brows raise as you glance down at the jeans and plain Lolla tee you put on this morning. None of the trendy outfits you usually wear for interviews seemed to fit right today. 

"Wow, that was smooth," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don’t know why I’m so nervous."

The fluttering in your stomach matches his energy.  “Maybe it’s because I’m going to get you to spill all your secrets and print them so the whole world can sit in judgment."

 A choked sound comes from his throat as his eyes widen into saucers.

Unable to keep a straight face, you giggle. "Relax, Eddie. I already told you I’m not writing some hit piece. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides," you shrug, "It’s only me." 

A sharp breath escapes as his shoulders lower. "Yeah, you’re right." He says, taking a step forward, his gaze locking with yours. "After all these years, it's still you.

"Eddie." His name comes out on a breathless sigh as you look away.  The shield of anger between you is heavy and battered, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold it up. He takes another step forward, and you clear your throat. "Why don’t you show me what else you’ve done?"

He rakes a hand through his curls, "Of course." His lips tighten into a flat line as he gestures toward the stairs. "After you." 

You lead the way to the second floor, where the smell of fresh paint permeates the air. A ladder leans against a half-painted wall, and orange extension cords crisscross the carpet in the hall, winding into the studios like work has been suddenly halted.

"Where is everyone?" You look around the abandoned space before stepping inside Studio A. It's come a long way since your last visit. The deck that holds the mixing board is ready, and the wiring is underway.

"I didn’t know how long you’d be here, so I told them to take the rest of the day off." His eyes follow the movements of your hand, brushing over knobs and sliders of the soundboard that's still sheathed in a protective layer of plastic. 

"You didn’t have to do that," you say, walking back out into the hall. 

"I didn’t think we needed the audience," he shrugs, walking along with you to the next room.

"I hope you don’t fall behind schedule." The walls of the small Studio B are covered with walnut slats to create an acoustic barrier while still keeping the room open, while the mixing room kept the original exposed brick.

"I’ve got time."

"Even so," you move to the window. The sun glints off the mirrored surface of the tall building across the street. "I’m sure you're eager to open. Put out that first album with the CursedSound logo in the liner notes."

"Of course I am." He comes to stand beside you, taking in the bustle of the city at midday. "It’s gonna be good to have nothin’ between me and the music. Let the artists be as creative as they want. Their management can deal with the corporate A&R people and leave me out of it."

"You never did like playing by the rules," you smile, catching his eyes in the reflection of the glass.

He turns his head, studying your profile. "Why should I?" he continues, his tone more determined, "The rules sure as hell never helped me. I'm gonna take my chances as I find them, even if I have to play a little dirty. I deserve happiness the same as the next guy."

"Of course you do." The world has done nothing but take from him. 

"What about you?" He asks as you return to the hall. "The rules seemed to be treating you well."

You raise your shoulders with a warm smile gracing your lips, one you have no intention of concealing. "I love my job. I like the city, and…I have Steve."

"You ending up with Steve Harrington," his voice curls around the name, a sneer you can almost see, "I gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming."

Stopping, you pivot to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. "He's a good guy, Eddie."

He sighs in a short, almost defeated breath. "I know he is, doll."

The unmarked door at the end of the hall provides a convenient distraction. "Where does this go?" You wonder with your hand closing over the knob.

"My apartment."

"You're living here?" You let it go like it burned you, swallowing the lump that has made a sudden appearance in your throat. 

"Sure. Can't beat the commute." He reaches around you, turning the doorknob to reveal another flight of stairs. "Do you want to go up?"

Flashes of that day are more vivid than they should be for memories two years old. The closet carpet is soft under your fingers as wet tears rain down on the glossy pages. Steve's voice gets closer as he calls out your name. A tightness grips your chest as you attempt to step back, momentarily forgetting that Eddie's right behind you. He supports you with a steadying hand on your hip as he faces you, seeking your reaction.

"No, that's okay. I think we're fine down here. I  wouldn't want to disturb anyone," you say, attempting to sound confident as you wipe your palms along the sides of your jeans.

Eddie scratches the side of his head as his brow wrinkles. "Who do you think it up there?" 

A hot breath passes your lips as you turn away, walking back down the hall toward Studio C. "I don’t know," you call over your shoulder, too chicken to face him. "Skyler Simmons. Rock royalty. Media darling. According to the magazines, your long-time girlfriend. The one you own a house with. Ring any bells? Isn’t she here with you?"

"My what? Skyler Simmons?" The deep belly laugh that follows has you spinning on your heels to face him.

"Wait. You’re serious?" His dimples make an appearance as his smile deepens. "Me and Skyler?" He can barely get her name out without chuckling. 

"The one you’re photographed with constantly."

His brows shoot up. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself," you huff. "It came up in my research. Do you have a relationship with her or not?"

"I know her," he offers, shaking his head, "She’s a friend. We go to the same group." 

"What group? The one for annoying assholes." 

He pauses, his arms crossing over his chest. "The one for people with addiction in their families. That okay with you?" His voice escalates. The simmering anger in his eyes mirrors the intensity of his tone. "Skyler is gay. Her girlfriend's usually hanging around, too. Does that mean I’m fucking her too? Jesus."

Frigid water clashes with your hot blood as the fight drains away. Glancing at your feet, your voice diminishes to barely more than a whisper. "Why hasn't she come out in the media?"

"Maybe because it’s none of anybody's fucking business." His piercing gaze bores into you as the sharp words land like heavy stones in the sour pit in your stomach. "Hold on," he waves a hand in front of you, "Why do you even care?"

"I don’t," your voice falters as the dishonest answer leaves you without hesitation. Your eyes trace the patterns on the floor. "It just makes for a better story, is all." 

His hands run through his hair, fingers tugging on the ends as his tone softens. "Doll," he pauses, taking a deliberate step closer. His warm fingers cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. Those amber swirls, always seeing beyond your surface. "No one else is in my apartment, and no one else is gonna be."

His touch sends a searing heat spreading through your skin as the weight of your engagement ring pulls on your finger. "You’re a grown man, Eddie. Do whatever you want." Stepping back, his hand falls from your face as you turn and enter the studio.

"Fucking stubborn," the low murmur carries under his breath as he follows you inside.

"It looks like this one’s almost finished." You spin around the room, taking in the progress, before letting your bag slide down your shoulder and sinking onto the couch. 

Gray triangles of acoustic foam now adorn the live room walls in contrasting patterns, and layers of soft carpeting line the floor. The mixing room's mural stands completed, and the furniture has all been placed. 

His eyes move around the room, the pride evident on his face. "Just some wiring and the vocal booth, and I’ll be ready to start setting the levels."

"This one’s your favorite, I can tell," you shift, tucking a leg under you as he joins you on the couch. 

"Shhh," he hushes you, raising a finger to his lips. "The others will get jealous."

Rolling your eyes, you pull your phone from your bag, open the recording app, and set it between you both.

"How does this work?" Eddie's eyes are fixed on your phone while he rubs the back of his neck.

"Well, typically," your hand slips back into your bag to retrieve the neatly stapled pages of your notes, "I ask a question, and you provide the answer." You set the pages in your lap, drawing in a steadying breath. He’s sitting in front of you with a key to a locked door  – one that might be best left closed and forgotten, but it’s time to hear him out. 

"Eddie Munson interview, part one."

"Mr. Munson." You slip into your most professional tone. "Thank you for granting us an interview during this busy time. All of us at Stax are very excited to welcome CursedSound to Chicago."

He leans forward, his voice dropping slightly in timber as a much smoother, older Eddie begins to answer, "Thank you. I always have time for my favorite magazine." He winks.

Your lips press into a line as you tilt your head to the side, taking a quick glance at your packet. "In April 2003, Fever to Tell was released by a relatively new band and a completely unknown sound engineer. It went on to sell over a million copies, putting The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the name Eddie Munson on industry minds. Fever to Tell is still, to date, one of my favorite albums. Were you aware of the significant impact this record would have when you were working on it?"

"At the time, we were really just hopeful, you know? We believed in the music we were creating. Karen and Nick, and Brian flew out from New York with their last dime, and we just got to work. Karen had this kind of raw, untamed energy, and I wanted to capture that, to add an edge to the album. It was this post-punk dance-floor-friendly racket that injected a much-needed dose of authenticity into a musical era that was getting stagnant."

"It's not an exaggeration to say that record helped shape the direction of indie and alternative rock for years to come. But what I want to ask is you before all that. What was the road like moving from Hawkins to having your dreams come true in LA? Was this the path you first set out on, or were there curves in the road?"

"I think 'curves' is a generous term for the absolute shit choices I was making for myself back then," he chuckles. "As you know, I left Hawkins about a year after I graduated. That town had already decided I would never be anything more than a freak– a loser with no future. If I had stayed, that's exactly what would have happened. I was trying to outrun my past without a clue what I wanted for my future. I had my own band back then, and sometimes, we’d open for slightly bigger bands that rolled through town. One of them was about to tour and invited me to go as their one and only roadie, and it felt like a free ticket out."

"Bananafish," you interject, swallowing and glancing down at your notes.

"Yeah, Bananafish. God, they sucked. Did you know they started as a Spin Doctors tribute band?"

"No," you laugh, "And that wasn’t a red flag for you?"

"It should have been. I wasn’t with them for long anyway. I think I lasted for three weeks before they cut me loose for getting in a fight with the drummer." He pauses, shaking his head. "I never knew when to shut my mouth. At that point, they had hooked up with another band called Everly. Slightly better, but not by much. I managed to hold it together for a few months. I was high or drunk most of the time, the only reason they kept me around was because they liked the way I babied their instruments."

"I remember,” you nod. “You’d spend half an hour polishing that Warlock every day after school." 

"Got to treat a lady right if you want her to sing for you," he says with a sly rise and fall of his brows, draping an arm over the back of the couch, shrinking the space between you.

"I was surprised that you left it behind." 

Eddie's expression turns more solemn. "There were a lot of things I wished I could’ve taken with me. But back then, I couldn’t even take care of myself."

"I don’t believe that," you swallow, the words sticking in your throat, "You could have tried."

"If I had tried, they would’ve ended up broken, and I’d‘ve lost them anyway." His fingers brush your shoulder, and you flinch. The leather creaks as you sit back against the arm of the couch, just out of reach. 

"Back to Everly. Why did you part ways?" 

"Oh, well, I fucked it up, of course. They had landed a spot at Bonnaroo, and I got so fucked up the night before I missed sound check. When I managed to pick myself up off the floor of the van, they handed me my duffel and a twenty and told me to pound sand." His eyes drift away, fixating on a point across the room. "I had barely been outside of Indiana, and there I was, stuck on some farm in Manchester, Tennessee, with no ride, no money, and no one to call. I was angry at the world and never felt more alone. People always talk about hitting rock bottom, I thought that was it, but now that I look back, it was more of a crossroads. If I had followed that darker path, there would have been no coming back. I was wandering around backstage where they park buses, hungover, maybe still half in the bag, and that’s when I met Max."

"Max Navarro?" You shuffle through the pages of your notes.

"Yeah. You know him?" Eddie’s eyes brighten as his gaze drops to the pages in your lap.

Your head turns from side to side. "You referred to him as a mentor in the Stones interview, but I couldn’t find much on him besides his name being listed as an audio engineer for several tours."

"That’s Max." Eddie breaks into a smile. "He’d tell you he likes flying under the radar. He was hanging out in front of the bus playing guitar with a couple of guys when I walked over like a cocky shit, picked one up, and started playing. He gave me something to smoke, and it wasn’t weed. All I know is that I woke up face-down in the dirt the next morning. I don’t know if he liked me or just felt bad for me, but he dragged me on the bus and had me start assisting him with the sound for Faith No More."

"Faith No More? Are you kidding me?" Your hands fall to your lap, slapping against your thighs, jostling the cushion enough for your phone to slide toward the back of the couch. "You had their poster in your room. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you had a charmed life."

"Well, even the sun shines on a dog's ass some days," he laughs.

"So Max is who taught you about engineering?" 

"Max is who taught me about everything." His voice holds a reverence when he says his name.  "He kept an eye on me. Showed me how to work the boards.  He said he could see shadows following me around, so when we got to LA, he took me out to the desert, fed me some tea, and exercised my demons."

"Did it work?" Max wasn't the only one to see shadows looming. Consequences of decisions made by others. Expectations of a community that turned its back. They clung to him like an impenetrable fog. 

"I’m not sure. I felt lighter after, but it could have been the gallon of water I sweat out," he chuckles.  "After that, he cashed in a favor and got me an internship with a small studio in Laurel Canyon. I parked cars at night and lived in a room the size of a closet at Max’s house. I worked my ass off. I went to therapy–" 

"How very L.A. of you," you chime in.

"Don’t knock it until you try it." He looks at you from under raised brows. "It’s, uh, good to talk about things. Be open, you know?" 

"No thanks. I tried that once," you tell him pointedly, the tightness in your chest returning, "It didn’t work out for me."

Your arrow hit the target. Regret flashes in his eyes. "Doll–" 

"You decided to stay in L.A. and work at a studio instead of going back out on the road?"

"I like studio sessions. Makes me feel like I’m working towards something. I like completing an album and putting it out in the world. Some people thrive being out on tour, like Max. Not me," he scratches at his chin. "Too many ghosts on those old roads." 

Like the ones back in Hawkins that jolt you awake in the dead of night, murmuring past shames of a lovesick and foolish girl. Robin had seen it, and so had the entire town, but you aren’t her any longer. She lies resting beneath the frigid earth, her memory an unmarked grave. You've moved forward, and you’ll never go back, the city drowns out the remains of her cries.

"So you stayed and built your life there," you conclude, flipping through the pages of your notes, ticking off the points from your outline.

Eddie leans back, a contemplative look on his face. "I guess you could say that. I got my own place, made some great friends. Sundays are for Max's family and Chile relleno. The weather is always beautiful. But I really stayed for the music,” he shrugs. “Have you been? I could take you some time. Show you around. Max would love to meet you, the girl I won’t shut up about. I think you’d like it there."

The girl he hasn’t bothered to call in a decade. "To Los Angeles?" Your gaze rises from your notes to meet his nodding response. "I've been a few times. With Steve. Mostly for work."

"Oh yeah. Makes sense." His jaw tightens, and he averts his gaze. "Well, I guess the rest is history. Is that enough for your story?"

"Yeah." You reach for your phone, tapping the red square to stop the recording. "It will be a great opening piece for the series." You pick up your messenger, hauling its weight into your lap, tucking your notes inside. The afternoon is ending on a flat note. A stone sits on your tongue, holding back questions that you lack the courage to ask, but maybe it’s better this way.

Eddie sits up suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Speaking of history, I want to show you something." He stands up, looking towards the door and back at you, "Um.. wait here, okay? I’ll just be a minute." 

"Okay-"

He holds up flat palms. "Don’t go anywhere." His eyes close as he winces, " I mean, you can wander around if you want. Just don’t leave."

"Eddie-" 

"I’ll be back." He holds up one finger as he exits the room. 

With a sigh, you push up from your thighs, rising to your feet, walking through to the live room where a drum kit stands at the ready. The snare looks a little worn, and the symbols have lost their shine. Your nails tap the high hat, and you smile at the shimmering sound.

"What am I doing?" You whisper, spinning the gold band on your finger.

The sound of the floor creaking echoes through the hall.  Eddie enters the room with the large box he's carrying obscuring his upper half.  His name written in Wayne's shaky handwriting, peeking out from underneath his fingers.

"What's all this?" You ask as he sets down the box with a heave in the center of the room and sinks to his knees, hovering over the taped flaps.

"I have no idea," he grins mischievously. "Wayne gave it to me when I stopped by last week and told him I would see you. But you know him, he never throws stuff out. It could be anything." His hand smoothes over the top as he raises a brow. "Wanna find out?"

Your hands slide over your jean-covered thighs before your feet carry you forward. "Mrs. Click better not be in there." 

His head tips back with laughter. "I make no promises," he jokes while you take a seat on the floor on the side of the box.  

His mouth quirks up, watching you get comfortable. With a fluid motion, he leans and grabs a box cutter beside the soundboard. His shirt lifts slightly, offering a glimpse of hair trailing down his belly and the sculpted muscle beside his hips. His tongue lightly grazes his upper lip as he expertly flicks the knife open, his jeans snug on the contours of his strong thighs. Exhaling slowly, you avert your eyes, scanning the room instead as you wait for him to slice the tape. 

"Score!" He pulls out the ragged-edged sheet that was folded and tucked into the top of the box. "Corroded Coffin," he reads aloud the words scrawled across it with something resembling shoe polish.

"Oh no," you laugh, your head turning side to side as you rock in your seat. 

"Hey. This is rare band memorabilia. It’s probably worth money," he defends, holding it up proudly. 

"Yeah, to the guy you have to pay to haul it away," you giggle.

"Alright, Alright," he folds it up, the smile never leaving his face as he reaches into the box. "These are yours." He pulls out a stack of comic books and hands them to you.

"Still in good shape." You thumb through the copies of Tank Girl and Witchblade.

"My campaigns." He pulls out a pile of notebooks and sets them aside before reaching back in. "Some CDs." He comes out with a hand wrapped around a stack of jewel cases, the one on top catching your eye. 

"Hey, that’s my Cranberries Cd!" Your fingers dig into the carpet as you tip forward, yanking it from his hand. "I looked for this everywhere. I knew you took it, you thief."

"I don’t know how that got there," he scratches his head, "You must have left in the van."

"Nice try, Munson." your eyes narrow, "I checked there." You lean over the box, poking a finger into his chest, "I knew you had a crush on Dolores."

"You got me. It was the accent," he admits with a grin full of dimples, his hand closing around your finger. 

"I’m keeping it." You drop back into your seat and pick up the case to examine the disc.

"Holy shit."

You raise your head to meet his wide chocolate eyes, a look of sheer delight written across his face. "Close your eyes," he instructs, pulling back the flaps of the box, hiding whatever he's found.

"Mrs. Click?" You set the CD on top of the comics.

"Better," he says excitedly, waving a hand toward your face. “Come on. Close your eyes."

"Fine." You leave one eye open, folding your hands in your lap.

"No peeking." He wags a finger.

Your lips purse as you close your other lid, waiting for the big reveal. Plastic clanks against something heavy, followed by the rustle of cardboard.

"Okay. Open."

"Daisy!" Your hands fly to your mouth before you reach out with wiggling fingers.

He winces as he hands over the two-foot garden gnome. "How can you call something so ugly a pretty name like that?"

Taking the heavy lawn ornament in both hands, you gaze down at her droopy hat and too-large ears, which stick straight out beside her bulging eyes and porcine nose. Her rubbery lips are pulled back in a smile, showing off her buck teeth and flowery dress that barely conceals her body. 

"She's beautiful." You cradle her in your arms. "Besides, you're the one who stole her."

"You’re the one who dared me to," he scoffs. 

Your cheeks already ache with an unrestrained smile as the memories from that night surface. "I didn’t think you were going to wake up the whole neighborhood crashing into the bushes in Mr. Lawson’s yard." 

"I was drunk," he defends, his face turning red.

"You tripped over your feet and ripped your pants," you gasp for air, trying to get the words out with your laughter, "You had on those Garfield boxers with the hearts."

"Of course, you remember that." His laughter joins yours, easy and familiar. "You're the one that woke up the neighbors, making the van backfire."

"It was the first time I drove, and I didn’t have a license." You clutch Daisy tightly to your chest as you try to catch your breath. "Mr. Larson came out in his bathrobe, screaming about shooting you in the ass."

Eddie shakes his head as you laugh at his expense. "He almost caught us when you stalled out. All for that hideous thing."

"Shh," you cover her ears with your hands. "You can’t get rid of her."

"Never," he agrees, reaching out for her. "I’ll find her place of honor around here somewhere."

"Put her on your nightstand," you suggest, handing her over. 

"Ugh," he says, setting her aside, "I’ll have nightmares."

You burst into laughter once more, and his eyes ignite. He smiles like he’s savoring every sound, like your happiness is a hard-earned treasure he's been longing for. 

The shards of the past press against the scar tissue encasing your heart as if struggling to free themselves and reassemble in the present. Your hand finds its way to your chest, pressing gently on the tender center, trying to quell the ache and remain in this moment—with him.

"What else? What else?" You clap your hands, bouncing in your spot. 

"Okay, okay," he gives in, happy to indulge you. "Um, a pack of crayons, a monopoly piece." He places them aside. "Thanks, Wayne. Could have done without that. Looks like some clothes. Oh, this is yours." He tosses a ball of red fabric at you, and you catch it with both hands before he continues to search through the box.

"Is this what I think it is?" His voice brims with excitement as he pulls a rectangular tin from the box. He shakes it, and a sharp sound follows. "Yes." His tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth as he pries off the lid. 

His voice fades into the background as your focus turns to what you're holding. The fabric of your Musicland vest unfurls as you hold it out in front of you, the gold name tag still pinned to the front catching the light. A heavy sensation settles in your stomach, tightening and cramping as a sick, painful feeling creeps in and spreads — nausea churns as each inhale becomes battle. 

There’s a scrape of metal as the lid pops off. "Polaroids," Eddie declares, his attention lost to the thrill of his find as he flips through the stack of photographs.

Your heart races as the room seems to shrink. "Stop it," you whisper, your voice quivering, your trembling hands twisting the vest as if folding it small enough can make the pain disappear.

"They’re pretty faded, though," he goes on, unaware. 

"I said, that's enough!" The balled-up vest flies from your hands, landing back in the box. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you push yourself up on unsteady legs. "I need to leave."

Eddie's laughter dies in his throat as he looks up, the joy in his eyes replaced by confusion. "Wait a minute." He gets to his feet and follows you. The small pile you made topples over, forgotten as you pick up your bag from the couch. "What just happened?" He moves in front of you, blocking your path. "I thought we were having fun."

"Fun?" The word is a shard of ice. Without hesitation, you sling your bag over your shoulder and maneuver past him towards the door.

“Just hold on a minute.” He blocks your path again, hands up, eyes searching yours for answers. “Tell me what's going on.”

"What do you want?" The words slice the air, eyes locked, a bare blade of anger.

"I wanted to-" His eyes flick toward the abandoned box in the center of the room.

"No." Your head shakes, "Why are you here? Now?  After all this time? What do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to see you." His arms cross over his chest as his voice turns softer. "I missed my friend."

"Your friend," sarcasm drips from your words as you quirk a brow, "So you show up here with a box of crap and a ‘hey doll’,” your voice lowers to mock him, "And I’m supposed to what? Forget about everything that happened and hand you a clean slate. Drop everything in my life to follow you around like a puppy because you feel like paying me some attention?"

"That’s not…I’m not asking for that." His hand runs through his curls, frustration building in his tone. 

"I'm not going to sit here with you wandering down memory lane and watch you pretend like you cared." Your eyes sting, but tears won't fall. You've shed your last one for him long ago. "Like any of it mattered."

"No one's pretending here, doll." He steps closer, his hands falling to his side, fingers rubbing at the seam of his jeans. "Of course, it mattered—all of it."

Your bag falls from your shoulder with a resounding thud, its weight matching your resolve as you push your hand against his chest. "I don't believe that for a second. If it mattered, you never could have done what you did."

"Done what?"

"Left me!" Your hand lands flat across your heart. "Without a goodbye, just some shitty mixtape full of songs that I can't listen to without my heart breaking over and over."

"You're right, okay." His voice rises to match your volume, his fingers closing around your biceps. "I was a fucking coward, and I ran. I couldn't see that look on your face again, the one you had when I told you I was leaving. I should’ve said goodbye, but I knew you'd try to convince me to stay, and that was never going to happen. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I can't be sorry I left."

"Hurt me?" You push his hands away, taking a step back to control the cracking in your voice. "You didn't just hurt me, Eddie. You destroyed me."

He swallows, looking away. "You were better off."

Fresh anger surges, along with the strong desire to escape – to leave this dead and buried, maybe for another decade until the hurt isn’t so strong. 

"See, that right there is why I'll never believe you," you snap, pointing an accusatory finger his way as you step around him, your hand closing around the doorknob. But at the last moment,  you turn, wanting him to hear it. At least once.

"I didn't quit Musicland. I got fired. I was a mess after you left. I cried for days, but I clung to this pathetic hope that you’d call to explain everything. To say it wasn't the end for us. You wouldn’t just throw me away, right? Not after everything we had been through together. I wouldn't leave my room, not even to eat. I was so afraid that the second I left, the phone would ring."

There's regret in his eyes as he steps forward, getting closer until he can touch you again, one hand gently gliding up your arm.

"But that call never came, did it, Eddie? Not one. And every day that passed, I died a little. But then I wasn't sad anymore. All those tears, they turned to hate," you say coldly, locking your gaze with his. "I hated you. I hated every song that came on the radio, reminding me of you. I hated Hawkins and everyone in it. But most of all, I hated myself for trusting you. For believing that you ever cared about me. That I wasn’t alone. That's what you did to me, Eddie.”

“You made me hate myself."

"I’m so sorry, doll," his words barely crest the silence as his gentle hand cradles your jaw. “There’s so much I want to explain to you.”

His touch is hot, but inside you, a coldness lingers–inside your stone. "You kissed me. And then you left me the next day. You knew how I felt." 

"I know. I know. I’m sorry." He steps closer, trying to pull your rigid form into his arms, lips brushing your temple. "You don’t even know how much. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing. Trying to make it up to you. But you’re wrong. It all mattered. I did care. That kiss..it’s the reason…" He pulls back and looks into your eyes, "You knew me, you always did, but there were things I couldn’t tell you. Things I couldn’t admit even to myself. I was scared and angry all the time."

Your head shakes as you swallow hard. "You're not even real!" You shout in his face, your fingers clutching the doorknob behind you. Spinning, you tug hard, but his hand slams against the door above your head, keeping it shut. 

"Stop, doll," he pleads. “Let me explain,” but the push-pull intensifies. You're no match for his strength. "Stop it!" he yells. His hand pushes on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Anger flashes in his eyes, and his cheeks flush.

"I made you up.”

“No.”

“The boy I knew could never have done that. He could never have hurt me like that." Your shoulder jerks, breaking his hold as you attempt to turn away again.

His fingers wrap around the side of your neck, keeping you in place. "That boy could never have given you what you wanted. He wouldn’t have had the first clue how to handle you."

"Is that why you’re back?" You ask, still defiant even as his thumb presses into your throat, tipping your head to meet his gaze. "Dragging this all up again, ruining my life? Because you do?" 

"Damn right, I do." 

His words are a gravelly assertion, barely escaping before his mouth descends toward yours. For a heartbeat, the world pauses until your mouths finally meet — urgent and fierce. You part your lips eagerly, tongues finding their way together in a hungry and unapologetic dance. The firm pressure of his mouth moving in sync with yours is a spark, igniting a fire that seems to spread with each touch. The scent of clove and cedar leaves you lightheaded as the flames lick through your body. The scruff on his cheek is a rasp against your skin, a roughness contrasting with the smoothness of his kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and a hint of coffee. This kiss is filled with years of longing, swelling and crashing like an orchestra's finale.

Minutes slip away, yet your greedy mouths remain desperate. The room falls into a hushed stillness, save for the sharp intakes of breath and the sensuous wet slide of lips. The kisses seem endless, broken only by fleeting gasps for air, compelling you to pull each other closer, savoring every taste. Your fingers tangle in the soft waves at the nape of his neck, evoking a low, guttural groan that mingles with your shared breaths when you tug. His hands trace the curves of your body, touching every inch as they follow a path beyond your hips and ass, seizing the back of your thighs. With a firm grasp, he lifts you, pressing you against the unyielding door. You gasp as he positions you just how he wants — aligning himself hot and hard against your center. 

"Fuck," he growls against your lips as his hips roll, igniting fireworks through your body. Your eyes flutter shut, and a kaleidoscope of colors burst in the darkness.

He nips at the plush of your bottom lip, teeth grazing in a tender claim, a muted buzz begins in your bag—a sharp, insistent sting—that yanks you from the haze back into the real world. His eyes remain closed when you pull away. He leans closer, chasing your mouth, but the moment is already shattered. 

Your stomach plummets as the harsh reality sets in. His kiss now tastes like the ash of betrayal. The distressed whimper escaping your throat finally has him looking at you, shock written clearly across his features. Slowly, he releases you, your body sliding against his until your feet meet the floor. He takes a step back, hesitating, swallowing, "Doll —"

"No." You shake your head, your hands covering your mouth. The gold band on your fourth finger is a cool scorch against your swollen lips. "I have to go." You spring into motion, rushing to gather your bag.

"Stay, and we can talk about this," he implores, moving one hand to his hip while the other rakes through his hair. 

"Please don’t," you plead. "Don’t ask me for anything else." You swing the strap over your shoulder. "I just ch—" But the word stays stuck in your throat, as your eyes swim with tears.

His face falls, "It's not your fault, okay? I kissed you."

"Eddie—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was me," he insists, frustration in his voice as you scrub your face with your hands. "I don't want you driving when you're upset."

"I'm sorry," you say with an aching heart, pushing past him and closing the door behind you.

The sidewalk blurs under your feet as you race to your car. Fat raindrops splatter against the concrete like a spray of gunfire, each one a cold, wet slap against your skin. The sky chooses this moment to crack open, unleashing a torrent that feels personal. Your car comes into view, a bright orange ticket flapping under the wiper. Perfect. Just perfect.

With hands slick from the rain, you fumble with your keys before throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. Snatching the ticket from under the wiper as you go and crumpling it into your fist, stuffing it into the glovebox to be dealt with later. The downpour drums on the roof, enclosing you in a watery cocoon as you search through your bag for your phone. A missed call from Steve and a text reminding you about the dry cleaning. You spill the contents of your messenger onto the passenger seat, pens and lip gloss tumbling into the footwell. "Shit!" The word is a half-sob as you clutch the receipt marked with today's hours in unforgiving black ink.

Glancing at the clock on your dash, it hits you with the subtlety of a wrecking ball– six minutes until closing. It might as well be in another time zone, given the snarled rush hour traffic and the river that the streets have become.  Your car roars to life, and you pull out onto the roadway, tires hissing on wet asphalt, windshield wipers barely keeping up with the deluge. Your skin still sings with Eddie’s touch, but it's the burgeoning storm of words—cheater, adulterer, betrayer—mixed with the soft hazel of Steve’s disappointed eyes that tattoo themselves across your conscience. This is the unforgivable sin, and you can't undo it, but you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

You're double-parked now, hazards blinking a frantic rhythm. The 'CLOSED' sign on the dry cleaner's door mocks you as you rattle the unrelenting metal handle. "Please, please, please," you whisper, pounding on the uncaring glass, your unheard pleas bouncing off the empty shadows within. A car horn cuts through the rain —"What the fuck, lady?" The other driver yells, uncaring of your predicament.

"I'm moving, I'm moving!" The words are a rain-soaked shout as you slosh back to your car, drenched and defeated.

Another angry horn sounds off as you pull into traffic, carelessly cutting off a Yellow Cab in your haste. Rainwater drips from your hair, soaking your shirt. Even with the heater set to blast, it does little against the chill that has settled deep in your bones. Down the road, a bright blue sign glows like a beacon, and you jerk the steering wheel, the car fishtailing as you skid into the lot. 

The pharmacy's fluorescent lights are too bright and too sterile as you grab a small bottle of mouthwash off the shelf in the travel section and wait in line to pay, the store's generic electronic music grating against your already frayed nerves. Outside, you stand on the corner, swishing and spitting the minty liquid onto the sidewalk, repeating the process, trying to cleanse more than just your mouth. A passerby wrinkles their nose at you from under their umbrella. "This is Chicago! You've seen worse!" You snap, arms thrown up in exasperation while the rain and your regrets mingle on the cold pavement.

With pruney fingers, you pull the cardigan you had left at Stax off the back of your office chair. Shrugging it on, the material dampens from your wet t-shirt but offers a little warmth. Your phone buzzes as you settle at your desk — five missed calls from Eddie and four texts. The roar of the heavy rain and being buried deep in your bag had muffled its sound, not that you would have picked up. 

Eddie: Answer the phone, doll!

Eddie: Look, I need to know that you’re okay.

Eddie: I swear to Christ if you don’t pick up.

Eddie: Okay, have it your way. I’m driving to your place.

What? No! Your thumb presses the call button, and it rings twice before it connects. There’s no hello, just the slight hum of an engine and the rain pelting glass. 

“I’m okay,” you breathe into your phone, “I didn’t go home. I’m at my office.”

Your heart drums in your ears with each second of silence. Your eyes flutter shut, relief flooding you when he finally responds. An exhale loosens the tension in your chest.  His voice resonates in a dark rumble through the phone, "We need to talk."

“I….I know,” your voice wavers as you wipe your nose on the back of your hand. “I just need a minute here, Ed. Can you give me some time?” 

The rhythmic blink of the turn signal punctuates his heavy sigh. “Yeah. Alright. But doll,” he pauses as the sound of water splashing against his vehicle mingles with the whoosh of passing traffic, “You’re not running away from this. And trust me, the irony of that statement isn’t lost on me. Think about what I said, okay? I meant it all.”

With a tight throat, you whisper, "I have to go," and disconnect the call. 

Placing your phone on the desk, you dab the raindrops off your face with a tissue. The quiet of the office wraps around you, its half-dark corners and the soft glow from the monitors creates a place for you to breathe and be still. The raging storm and the ticking wall clock echoing in the solitude do little to distract you from thoughts you’re not ready to face. With a deep breath, you lift the lid of your laptop, seeking refuge in the normalcy of work as you coax the screen back to life.

The song erupts from the speaker on the edge of your desk, a jolt of sound shattering the silence like an accusation. You grab it with fumbling fingers, scrambling to press the off button. Covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound that is equal parts sob and hysterical laughter, wondering how you ended up in this situation. With your elbows pressed against the wooden top, you bury your face in your hands.

“What are you doing here, kid?” The gruff voice cuts through your misery.

"Jesus Christ, Hopper," you gasp, clutching at your chest, "You scared the hell out of me."

"Guess we're even since Mr. Brightside nearly sent me into cardiac arrest." Hopper towers over you, standing beside your desk with his hands buried in his pockets. 

“You listen to The Killers?” You ask, surprised while he drags a chair from the next desk, its wheels screeching faintly against the concrete floor.

“You kids really think Jim Croce is the only thing on my playlist?” A chuckle escapes him as he eases into the chair beside you, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

You muster a puzzled look, shaking your head in feigned denial.

“Don’t bullshit me, kid. I don’t have much time. I’m meeting Joyce for dinner at that Italian place on Taylor Street. Have I told you about it? I’ve been dreaming about the breadsticks. Enzo puts some spice on ‘em, I don’t know what it is, but it’s good. You dip it in olive oil,” he groans, “Forget about it. Those things knock your socks off, and I’m wavering on the main course between—”

“I need you to take me off the studio opening,” you interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.

“We’ve been over this. Unless you have some good reason–”

“Eddie kissed me,” the confession slips out, eyes widening in shock at your admission, hands flying to cover your mouth.

His brows rocket upwards, then draw together, his gaze sharpening, voice dipping into a low, protective timbre, “What do you mean he kissed you?” 

“No,” you clarify, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing an elbow against the desk, massaging your temple to soothe the forming headache. “I kissed him. We kissed. It was mutual.”

Hopper reclines, the chair creaking under his weight, his gaze level and unreadable. “I’m disappointed in you, kid. I never thought I’d be having a conversation like this with you.”

“I know. I know. Steve…” you trail off, eyes drifting to the photo of Steve on your desk. 

Hopper leans in, his hand cutting through the air. “I don’t give a fuck about Harrington,” each word gains in volume, “This is about you and everything you’ve worked for. It’s 2012. That kind of nonsense ends careers. Do you know what can happen if he complains?”

Your eyes roll. “He’s not going to complain, Hop.”

“You don’t know that,” he counters, his head shaking off your naivety. “These things like this have a way of coming out. That was an amateur move. Where is your professionalism? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, lowering your eyes. “We have more of a history than I let on.”

“Well, stop the presses. I couldn’t have figured that one out.” His voice lowers in resignment, “Maybe this is my fault–”

“No–” 

Your protest is swift, but he plows right over you, “I’ve babied you. Maybe it’s because you’re my favorite or because you were just a kid when you started. I let you get away with too much over the years because you’re a damn good writer. But that stops now, I’m going to treat you like all the rest of the idiots in this place.” His hand waves around the room before pointing right at you. “You’re going back to that studio, and you’re going to keep your dick in your pants and get those interviews done. If you want to play kissy face, you do it on your own time. You got me?”

Your mouth drops open, disbelief palpable. “You're still going to make me finish?”

“Damm, right I am,” Hopper affirms, not missing a beat. "If I hand your work off, it raises questions. Big, messy questions. What do I tell downtown when they ask why the piece was reassigned? Unless you’re ready to come clean to Harrington?” 

Your lip goes between your teeth as your head shakes.

“I thought so.” Hopper leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "This could be both our necks," he mutters, concern filling his voice.

Your head shakes, but your determination is clear. "It won't."

“It better not. I don’t want to hear another word about it until that last story is on my desk. Are we clear?”

Your jaw clenches, the reality of the situation hitting hard. "Crystal."

Hopper's gaze remains fixed on you, ensuring his point has been made. "Good," he says, his voice softening, "Now go on, get out of here. Deal with whatever mess you've got going on. Just make sure it's sorted by Monday."

Your key slides into the lock and you turn it slowly, the tumblers falling into place with a series of soft clicks. You pause, leaning your forehead against the chill of the metal door, grappling with a rising queasiness that sours your stomach. 

A wave of home's warmth engulfs you, mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs and roasting potatoes. The vibrant strains of Queen accompany Steve's honeyed tones floating down the hall from the kitchen.

"Welcome home, ace. I was beginning to wonder where you were," his voice, laced with a touch of concern, greets you, “Busy day? Did you write me a Pulitzer?”

Your messenger bag slides from your shoulder, giving into gravity with a loud smack against the hardwood.

His voice grows nearer, warmer as he moves down the hall, the floor lightly creaking with each footfall. “I swung by the Athenian Room, grabbed us Chicken Kalamata, and I have a bottle of Chardonnay breathing.”

Your favorite. Your heart sinks further, receding behind your ribcage, unworthy of his care or devotion.

He stops short when he rounds the corner into the foyer, taking you in, his eyes reflecting your disheveled state. 

"I didn’t get the dry cleaning," you admit, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I was... too late."

For a heartbeat, he's silent, but his eyes remain tender. “Hey, that's alright, ace. I'll just skip the gym in the morning and swing by the cleaners before work. Are you okay?”

Traces of the day find a path down your cheeks as you sniffle and draw the cardigan tighter around yourself. "I got caught in the storm." 

“Did you forget your coat?” He draws closer as you give a small nod. His hands slide up your biceps, continuing on to wrap around you. “You're frozen.” He uses his thumb to lift your chin. “How about a hot shower, yeah? I'll keep dinner warm. You'll feel better after you eat.” His mouth begins to near yours, but you turn your face away. 

"I think I'm coming down with something," you manage, your lies teetering atop your mounting guilt. "My throat is sore."

Concern etches his features, his brows knitting together as he adjusts, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You don't feel hot.”

Pulling away, you bury your face into his shoulder. "I think I'll just shower and go to bed." 

“If that's what you want,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, though his tone is threaded with disappointment. “Go on up. I'll bring you some water and a couple of Tylenol.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you step away with a weight in your chest. “I'm really sorry.” 

“Don't worry about it.” He waves off your apology, his smile faint but sincere. His arms fold over his chest as he turns back toward the kitchen. 

As you climb the stairs, the music snaps off, replaced with the distant roar of a sports game, the announcers' voices carrying up the stairwell. 

The embrace of the hot shower strips away the cold clinging to your skin, but it cannot wash away the regret. Sliding down the tiles, you draw your knees close while your tears fall, mixing with the stream of water spiraling towards the drain. 

Your life is a song made up of the choices you've made, each one a different note that sounded so sure at the time, but now the harmony seems slightly off-key. The steam rises around you like a specter. It's the quiet between the chords. And you're there, just listening, trying to figure out if there's a note you'd change or if every single one was necessary. As you nestle into bed, sleep tugging like an insistent tide amidst the drift into dreams, one truth resonates clear– the music plays on.

Song 5 coming this week! Follow @tornupdates for notifications

Thanks for indulging me with this new version. I wanted to get it right. This next chapter is going to be Steve's launch party and will explore the fallout from that kiss. I love each and every one of you and I hope Torn!Eddie makes an appearance in your sweetest of dreams. -Jelly

[mrtwizz]

Snow On The Beach W.A. [Part One]

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader slow burn series

Warnings: canon violence, it’s slow burn, reader likes bees, unedited

Word count: 6.7

Summary: Y/n takes a small liking to the new girl who allegedly killed two normies at her old school.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

It was a usual Sunday in Enid’s dorm room, her and Y/n were doing their weekend assignments that they put off for last minute. Later Enid had plans to redo Y/n’s nails as they had chipped last week when she smashed her hand in a drawer. She even made a mental note to ask her new roommate if she wanted hers done, just in case she warmed up to the pair quicker than expected. 

The door to the room opened, both Enid and Y/n looked up to see who had entered. Y/n sat up from her lying position on Enid’s bed to see that it was Principle Weems and the new girl. Y/n stands up while Enid squeals and jumps up from her position at her desk, “Howdy, roomie!” 

“Wednesday, this is Enid Sinclair, and Y/n L/n.” Weems introduced the three, as Y/n moved to stand next to Enid. 

Wednesday said nothing as she took in the room she stood in, and the girls in front of her. The blonde, Enid, was wearing the purple pinstripe uniforms. While the other one wasn’t, or at least it wasn’t the proper uniform. Where Enid’s went down to her shins, Y/n’s stopped above her knees. She also didn’t have the matching jacket. 

“Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” Enid points out. 

The new girl, Wednesday, looks horrified. 

“Wednesday always looks half-dead.” The man behind her says, presumably her father. 

“Oh,” Enid says in a soft whisper, and outstretches her arms, “welcome to Ophelia Hall.” She moves forward to embrace Wednesday, who promptly moves backwards to avoid the interaction. “Not a hugger, got it.” 

“Please excuse Wednesday, she’s allergic to color.” Her mother says, and grimaces as if there's stories to tell about how they found that out.

“Oh wow, what happens to you?” Enid questions.

In a flat tone, Wednesday speaks for the first time, “I break out into hives, and then the flesh peels off my bones.” 

“Luckily, we’ve ordered a special uniform. Enid, Y/n, please take Wednesday to the registrar's office, to pick it up along with her schedule. Give her a tour along the way.” Weems smiles. 

The blonde werewolf does a little happy dance while Wednesday turns to face her parents, who’s faces fall at the look their daughter gives them. She quickly walked past the two of them out into the hall where Enid and Y/n happily followed, Enid skipping as she did so. 

Enid begins her history lesson on the place, “Built to educate people like us,” She was walking backwards as she spoke to maintain eye contact with Wednesday. 

“Freaks, outcasts, monsters,” Y/n filled in, walking beside her. 

“You can save the sanitized sales pitch,” Wednesday said, looking around as she stopped in front of Enid and Y/n, “I don’t plan on staying here for long.” 

“Why not?” Enid asks. 

“This was my parents’ idea,” Wednesday looked at something behind Y/n’s shoulder, “Oh look, there’s my mother smirking at me” 

Y/n moves her head to look at the picture Wednesday was looking at, “They’ve been looking for any excuse to send me here. It’s all a part of their nefarious,” Once more the raven haired girl turns back to Y/n and Enid,”yet completely obvious plan.” Enid’s tone is a stark contrast to Wednesday’s plain and flat one, “What plan?” 

“To turn me into a version of themselves.”

Enid and Y/n grimace, “In that case, perhaps you can clear something up.” Enid begins to lead her tour once more, “Rumor’s been swirling around that you killed a kid at your old school, and your parents pulled strings to get you off.” 

“Actually, it was two kids, but who’s counting?” Wednesday quickens her pace. 

Enid falters for a moment and stands still, where Y/n quickens to keep up with the girl. Soon they make their way outside, and Y/n places her sunglasses over her eyes. 

“Welcome to the quad,” Enid stretches her arms out for dramatics. 

“It’s a pentagon.” Wednesday observes the awful name choice for the courtyard. 

“The whole snarky goth girl thing might have worked at your normie school, but here things are different.” If anyone else had been speaking, Y/n’s tone might have come off condescending, but it was cheery and meant to give some sort of light to the situation. 

“Let me give you a rundown on Nevermore’s social scene.” Enid turns to Wednesday and then begins to walk off again. 

“I’m not interested in participating in tribal adolescent cliches.” 

“Well then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain,” Enid begins, “there are many flavors of outcasts here.”

“There are the four main cliques,” She counts off on her fingers, “Fangs, Furs, Stoners and scales.” 

“Those are the Fangs, aka Vampires. Some of them have literally been here for decades.” Y/n explains. 

“That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, aka werewolves. Like me!” Enid says, “Full moons get pretty loud around here, that’s when Furs wolf out.” 

“I suggest you pick up a pair of noise-canceling headphones.” Y/n says in a joking manner, but both know it's not a joke. 

Wednesday ignores her comment and looks at the group around the fountain, “I’m assuming Scales are sirens.”

“You catch on quick.And that girl, ” Enid points to one of the sirens, “Bianca Barclay, is the closest thing Nevermore has to Royalty.” 

Y/n smiles at the implication, “She’s my roommate, and you will soon be happy Enid is your roommate and not Bianca.” 

Enid ignores the comment, “She used to date our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe. But they broke up at the beginning of the semester. Reason unknown.” “Fascinating.” Wednesday says in a cold tone. 

“I know right!” Enid went on, “My blog is like, the number one source for Nevermore gossip.” 

“Yo, Enid, Y/n! You’re not gonna believe the dirt I heard about your new roommate!” Enid’s crush, Ajax, approached. 

Y/n rolled her eyes from beside Enid and turned to face Ajax, who went on about the rumors, “She eats human flesh. Totally chowed down on that kid she murdered. You better watch your back.” 

Enid stepped aside to reveal Wednesday, “Quite the contrary, I actually fillet the bodies of my victims. Then feed them to my menagerie of pets.” 

Y/n silently wondered if Wednesday found enjoyment in making others squirm at the details of her alleged killings. 

Enid’s tone is as cheery as ever, “Ajax, this is my new roommate, Wednesday.” 

“Woah, you’re in black and white.” The gorgon boy looked the new girl up and down. “Like a living Instagram filter.”

“Ignore him, gorgons spend way too much time getting stoned.” Y/n stated as Enid turned Ajax away. She turned back to Y/n and Wednesday, “He’s cute, but clueless.” “Clueless? Yes, cute? Still up for debate.” Y/n breathed out a laugh. 

“Shut up,” Enid gave Y/n a small shove, “anyways, it’s a small school. There wasn’t a lot online about you. You really should get on Insta, Snapchat, and TikTok.” 

“I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation.” Wednesday turned back around, leaving Enid defeated. 

The three finally made it to the office to get Wednesday's schedule and uniform. They then parted for her to say her goodbyes to her family. 

Later that night when Enid and Y/n made their way back to Enid’s room they were shocked by the sight they saw. Wednesday was crouched down in front of the window peeling off the stickers that gave the room a colorful shine. 

“What the hell did you do to my room?” Enid demands as she marches into the room. 

Y/n carefully shut the door behind her, standing and observing the two of them.

“Dividing our room equally.” Wednesday says as she stands up, “Looks like a rainbow vomited on your side.” 

“I-” Enid tries to spit something out. 

“Silence would be appreciated, this is my writing time.” Wednesday sits down in front of an old-timey typewriter and pulls up the sleeves of her black zip-up. 

“Your writing time?” Enid asks, still having not moved from the middle of the room. 

“I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same, your blog might be coherent. I’ve read serial killer diaries with better punctuation.” Wednesday’s hands look to not know what to do with themselves for just a moment. 

Y/n made her way over to Enid’s bed to sit with all of the stuffed animals on the bed, she grabbed one of them and placed it in her lap as she did so. 

“I write in my voice! It’s my truth. It’s what my followers love.” Enid defends her blog.

Wednesday turns to face Enid, “Your followers are clearly imbeciles.” She pushes off the desk chair and walks toward the girl, “They respond to your stories with stupid little pictures.” 

Enid scoffs, “You mean emojis? It’s how people express their feelings. I realize that’s a foreign concept for you.” 

“When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole.” Wednesday pauses a little after each one for dramatic effect, “By the way, there’s two D’s in Addams. If you’re going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly.” 

Enid ignores her and puts on some bubble-gum pop music, and begins to dance, making Wednesday’s head snap in her direction. 

“Turn that off,” 

Enid ignores her and continues to dance in a taunting manner. 

Wednesday huffs and walks over to the colorful girl, “This is your final warning.” 

Enid makes a noise that is supposed to sound like a growl, that makes Y/n laugh from over on the bed, but instead comes out playful as she bears her manicured claws. Wednesday eyes the claws. 

“Don’t mess with me.” It comes out as a genuine threat, just because Enid is all cute and rainbows doesn’t mean she couldn't be dangerous if she wanted to be. “This kitty’s got claws, and I’m not afraid to use them.” 

The door opens, “Good evening, girls. Sorry about the mud.” Enid hides her hands behind her back and Y/n stops fidgeting with the stuffed toy in her lap to look at who opened the door. All three girls look at Ms. Thornhill. 

“I wanted to make sure that Wednesday was settling in. Is this a bad time?” She asks, it’s a rhetorical question. 

“Most definitely.” Y/n speaks for the first time since her and Enid entered the room. 

All heads snap to the girl sitting in Enid’s bed, Enid and Wednesday had both forgotten she was there. 

Ms Thornhill decides to ignore her comment and introduces herself, “I’m your dorm mom, Apologies I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid, and Y/n apparently, have given you the old Nevermore welcome.” 

“They’ve been smothering me in hospitality, I hope to return the favor. In her sleep.” Wednesday speaks, everyone hopes it's a joke but nobody is sure. 

“Well, here’s a little welcoming gift from my conservatory.” She smiles as she hands Wednesday a black dahlia flower. “I try to match a flower with each of my girls, and when I read your personal statement in your application, I immediately thought of this one.” 

“The black dahlia,” Wednesday looks at the flower. 

“Oh you know it?” Ms Thornhill questions. 

“Of course. It’s named after my favorite unsolved murder.” There’s a moment of silence, “Thank you.” 

“Okey-dokey. Before I leave, I want to go over a few house rules. Lights off at ten, no loud music, and no boys, ever.” She emphasizes the last part, making Y/n snicker. 

“Do you have something to share, Y/n?” Ms Thornhill looks over. 

“No, no.” Y/n smothers her smile in the plush toy in her hands. 

“What’s the story about going into the local town?” Wednesday asks. 

“Passes to Jericho are a privilege, not a right. It’s a brisk twenty-five minute walk, or there’s a shuttle on the weekends. The locals are a tad bit wary about the Nevermore kids. So please, don’t go making any waves, or perpetuating any outcast stereotypes. That means keep your claws to yourself,” She turns to Enid first, then to Wednesday, “and no smothering people in their sleep.” 

“Are we clear?” She waits for any objections, “Great talk!” 

Ms Thornhill leaves with a wave. 

“Anywho, Enid, can you fix my nails?” Y/n whines at the blonde the moment the door closes, and moves to grab her favorite colors of nail polish. 

The next day goes without incident, Enid and Y/n do their thing and Wednesday does hers. 

“Could be worse.” Y/n comments as Enid complains. 

“How? She could be a deranged murderer? Oh wait!” Enid is exasperated. 

“I call her bluff.” Y/n says as they make their way out of the library and to Enid’s dorm. 

“Why do we never go to your room again?” Enid asks. 

“Because Bianca? Duh.” Y/n feigns annoyance, she truly didn’t have anything against Bianca. The two were kind of friends, or at least Y/n considered her a friend. 

As they open the door they hear music coming from Enid’s balcony, the two cross the room and step through the window as the song ends. 

“How the hell did you get that oversized violin out the window?” Enid questions. 

“It’s a cello.” Y/n mumbles before seeing the hand sitting on the music stand. 

“I had an extra hand.” Wednesday says, not bothering to look at the girls behind her or the appendage waving at them. 

“Woah.” Enid grimaces. 

“Where’s the rest of him?” Y/n asks. 

“It’s one of the great Addams family mysteries.” Wednesday replies, placing the bow on the stand. 

The hand drops from the stand with a thump and walks away. If that’s what you can call it. 

In the distance the three can hear the Furs howling out. 

“Why aren’t you wolfing out?” Wednesday looks at Enid. 

Y/n frowns at Enid’s body language, knowing how she felt about not being able to wolf out yet. 

“Cause I can’t,” She turns and looks at Wednesday and flashes her claws, “it’s all I got.” 

She walks over to the edge of the balcony and Y/n moves to stand next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders while Enid rests her head on the other girl’s shoulder.  

“My mom says some wolves are late bloomers, but I’ve been to the best Lycanologist. I had to fly to Milwaukee, can you believe it?” 

Wednesday made her way over to the pair. 

“Yeah, she says there’s a chance I may never…you know.” 

“What happens then?” Wednesday stood on the other side of Y/n.

“I’d become a lone wolf.” Enid’s voice cracks at the thought. 

“Sound’s perfect.” Wednesday says, clearly not reading the room. 

“Are you kidding me? My life would actually be officially over.” Wednesday looks over at them, “I’d be kicked out of my family pack, with no prospect of finding a mate.” 

“I’m failing to see the problem here.” Wednesday voices.

“I could die alone!” The blonde exclaims, horrified. 

“We all die alone, Enid.” Wednesday states, as if it’s a known fact, 

“I will never leave you Enid.” Y/n comforts. 

“You really suck at this, Wednesday.” Enid utters and her voice cracks again, “Cheering people up.” She begins to cry. 

Wednesday turns to Enid and Y/n, “Why are you crying?” 

“Because I’m upset!” She moves her head from Y/n’s shoulder to look at the other girl, “Haven’t you ever cried? Or are you above that too?” 

“I was six years old,” Wednesday began, “I took my pet scorpion, Nero, out for his afternoon stroll, and we were ambushed. They wondered what kind of freak would have a scorpion for a pet. Two of them held me down and made me watch,” She paused, “while the others ran Nero over until…” She trailed off. 

“It was snowing when I buried what was left of him. I cried my little black heart out, but tears don’t fix anything. So I vowed to never do it again.” Wednesday finished and Furs began to howl once more. 

“Your secret’s safe with us,” Enid said. 

“Still think you’re weird as shit though.” Y/n added to lighten the mood. 

“The feeling is incredibly mutual.” Wednesday looked over, “how would you like your single room back? You just need to show me how to use your computer.”  

Y/n and Enid look at each other and get set on explaining to Wednesday on how to use technology. Wednesday then sends Thing off to the normie boy she met, Tyler. 

The next few days go by with nothing remarkable happening, Enid and Y/n do their shenanigans, sometimes resulting in death threats from Wednesday. While the Addams girl continues working on her novel or playing the cello. 

At the festival, Wednesday is a stark contrast from the other two girls she stands with. Both girls in varying shades of pinks, while she is wearing black and white. Maybe Ajax had a point…

“You seriously are going to get into a strange boy's car?” Y/n asks as they stare at the normie boy and his father. 

“I mean, are you sure you can trust that normie?” Enid backs her friend up. 

“I trust that I can handle myself.” Wednesday spoke, none of the three ever taking their eyes off the sheriff and his son. 

The sheriff finally walks away from Tyler and Enid turns to face Wednesday, “Well, good luck and safe travels.” 

Enid moves to try and hug Wednesday, who immediately shuffled back, resulting in her bumping into Y/n. 

“Still not a hugger, got it.” Enid says and walks off, Y/n following behind. 

For the next few hours Y/n and Enid play dumb carnival games and ride rides. They end up bumping into Yoko and some of their vampire friends. 

Yoko and Enid were talking and something caught Y/n’s eye. It was Wednesday running after someone into the forest. Y/n pondered whether to follow and see what the commotion was, and after a moment she decided it was worth her while. 

She quickly followed Wednesday and the boy, keeping a distance.

Suddenly Wednesday and the other figure stopped, “Rowan, wait.” 

“What do you want?” Rowan growled out, “Why are you following me?” 

“I don’t have time to explain, but you’re in danger.” Wednesday said. 

Y/n hid herself behind a clump of trees, suddenly cursing the bright pink skirt she wore. The pair talked too quietly for Y/n to hear what was being said. 

Then suddenly Wednesday’s body was being lifted into the air and thrown against a tree by Rowan’s telekinesis. Y/n gasped and she hoped Rowan didn’t hear, but it appeared Wednesday did. She looked right into Y/n’s eyes before they returned to Rowan’s. 

“You’re the one who’s in danger.” Rowan says, an outstretched hand holding the girl up. 

“What are you doing?” Wednesday asks, sounding frantic.

“Saving everyone from you.” Rowan responds, “I have to kill you.”

“The gargoyle, that was you?” Wednesday’s already wide eyes appear to widen, “It’s always the quiet ones.” 

A paper flies up to the girl's face, “The girl in the picture, that’s you.” 

Wednesday seems appalled, “You want to kill me because of some picture?” 

“My mother drew that picture, twenty-five years ago, when she was a student at Nevermore.” Rowan’s voice seems rushed, “She was a powerful seer. Told me about it before she died.” 

“Rowan, put me down.” Wednesday demands, once more sounding panicked. 

“No! My mother said it was my destiny to stop this girl if she ever came to Nevermore.” Rowan sounds like a whining child who’s toy was taken, “Because she will destroy the school, and everyone in it.” 

Rowan tightens his hold on Wednesday, who struggles against the tree. 

“Rowan,” Y/n shouts, finally getting her whereabouts to step out from behind the tree. 

The boy turns his head but doesn’t have time to respond when a growl comes from nowhere, and a creature unlike one Y/n had ever seen before grabs Rowan by his green zip up. The monster smashes the boy to the ground and Y/n is certain she heard a crack as Rowan screamed. 

Wednesday crumbled down from the tree with a thud and watched as Rowan was torn to shreds. Blood splashed everywhere as the monster slashed through the boy. The monster looked at Wednesday and ran off, running by Y/n without giving the girl a second thought. 

Y/n rushed to the bloodied body of Rowan, she knew the boy didn’t have a chance of living but checked his pulse anyways. Wednesday looked to the sky as something fell from above, it was the page torn from a book, and it landed on Rowan’s slice open chest. Wednesday picked it up before Y/n could get a good look at it. 

As the two left the scene Y/n felt sick, and if she had anything in her stomach she would have thrown it back up. 

Wednesday finally spoke, “Do not speak of this to anyone, not even Enid. If the cops ask any questions, let me speak.” 

Y/n drew in a shaky breath, “Okay.” 

Y/n woke the next morning to her alarm in her own room, her and Bianca danced around each other as they got ready. Their room wasn’t nearly as separated as Enid and Wednesday’s was and they constantly left things on the others’ side. They knew each other well enough to be considered friends but didn’t hang out besides when in their dorm. Y/n knew all about Bianca and Xavier’s relationship, and why it had ended. 

The two knew almost every secret about one another, Y/n knew about Bianca’s past and vice versa. 

The two went their separate ways for classes, and halfway through Y/n’s first lesson Principal Weems came in to ask to take Y/n out. When she left the class, the sheriff and Wednesday were both there. 

“How could you miss a dead body?” Wednesday asked the man. 

“‘Cause it wasn’t there?” The sheriff responded, “No footprints, no blood, no sign of a struggle. Nothing, nada.” 

Suddenly all of last night's events flooded Y/n’s mind. “That’s impossible, I watched him be ripped apart, I saw Rowan’s chest cavity.” 

Wednesday gritted her teeth, but showed no sign of…well anything.

“My search party looked all night.” He responded, as if that was supposed to clear everything he is claiming. 

“Well, your search party must have left their seeing-eye dogs at home, I saw that monster kill Rowan.” Wednesday said as they walked up the stairs. 

“Get a good look at this monster thing?” Sheriff asked accusingly.  

“It didn’t stick around for a chat, maybe I’ll invite him for tea next time. Get a few pictures with him.” Y/n spoke angrily as she looked back at the man and Wednesday, as she stomps up the stairs to accentuate her anger. 

“Maybe it was one of your classmates.” The Sheriff said, looking around. 

That was the final straw for Y/n who stopped dead in her tracks and spun around to face the man, “Okay what the hell are you doing here then? Because it clearly isn’t to gather any leads, piss poor detective work to already have a bias.” “I don’t care, because I’ve got three other bodies in the morgue right now. Hikers, just ripped apart in the woods.” Sheriff says. 

Weems interrupts, “The mayor said those were bear attacks.” “Yeah well the mayor and I disagree on that.” The sheriff responds. 

 Weems has one hand on her hip and the other leaning against the railing, “So you automatically assume that it’s a Nevermore student? Even when there’s no evidence that a crime has even been committed.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot, you only teach the good outcasts here. Right?” Sheriff accuses. 

Weems sighs as cocks her head at him giving him a look, and her energy changes. They make their way to her office. The older lady sits down behind her desk. Wednesday and Y/n stand in front of it. 

“My guess is that Rowan ran away. State troopers have put out an alert and I’ve contacted his family. They haven’t heard from him either.” “Dead people are notoriously bad at returning calls.” Wednesday retorts. 

Y/n stifles a laugh at her comment as the Sheriff sits down in one of the chairs. 

“What were you two doing out in the woods with him, Ms Addams, L/n?” The two girls turn to face the man speaking. 

“We heard a noise in the forest, and I went to investigate. I told Y/n to stay back, but she insisted I don’t go alone. That’s when we stumbled upon the attack.” Wednesday lies through her teeth. 

“Then what happened?” The sheriff asks. 

Wednesday continues her narrative , “Then we ran into Y/n’s roommate, Bianca Barclay. I told her to go get help. Next thing I remember, I was waking up in my dorm.” 

“And just to be clear, this monster wasn’t a bear attack? Or some other wild animal?” His tone isn’t intrigue, it's condescending. 

“I’ve hibernated with grizzlies,” Wednesday states,”I know the difference.” 

Y/n wants to question this, but knows it's not the time nor place. Wednesday Addams was a mystery to all, and an open book to none. And Y/n wanted nothing more than to know more about the girl in all black. 

“Is this all true, Ms L/n?” Sheriff asks, turning to face Y/n. 

“All I remember is Rowan’s mangled body and then everything is blank after that.” Y/n corroborates Wednesday's version of events. 

“There you have it Sheriff, I think the girls are done now.” Weems speaks as she stands up. 

“Actually, I would like to speak to Sheriff Galpin,” One of Wednesday’s eyebrow quirks, and if Y/n hadn’t been watching her so intensely she would have missed it, “Alone.” 

“I’m not sure I can allow that.” Weems says. 

“I’m sure I could take her down to the station, and get a formal statement. But I’ll also need Y/n’s.” Galpin smirks for a millisecond, “Yeah let’s go.” 

“Fine, you have five minutes. And everything is off the record.” Weems says, walking from her desk, “Play nice, or I will call the mayor.” She threatens and leaves the room. 

Y/n leans against the desk as the two argue. 

The door opens, “Sheriff, you’re gonna want to see this.” It opens further and there is Rowan, in the same outfit he was wearing last night. The same zip up  that was soaked in his blood last night is suddenly void of any grime. The button up that had been torn apart, whole again. But more importantly, Rowan was alive unlike how the two had left him the night prior. 

“No, that’s fucking absurd. No, absolutely not.” Y/n says and leaves the room, not believing her eyes. 

Y/n makes her way outside to where she knew Enid was, the pair hadn’t spoken much this week.  Then Y/n spots Wednesday in one of the corridors. 

“Hey Wednesday, wanna come see Enid with me? Looks like you could use some sunshine and fresh air.” Y/n says in a joking manner. 

Wednesday said nothing as she began walking alongside Y/n. Before they step outside, Y/n pulls her sunglasses from her bag and puts them on her eyes. They were unlike the other vampires, they were unique and possibly designers. But Wednesday didn’t know the brand. 

“Ladies, come on! Let’s work on those teeth.” Enid’s cheery voice was comforting for Y/n to hear, “More scowl. This kitty is taking no prisoners. If Bianca Barclay wins again this year, I will literally scratch my own eyes out!” 

“I would pay money to see that.” Wednesday says, and Enid turns around with a hop and squeals. 

“Howdy, roomie! I’m so glad you decided to stay.” Enid smiles. 

Wednesday’s arms are crossed firmly around her middle, “I thought you wanted your single room back.” 

“Full disclosure, I don’t like living solo. Why do you think Y/n’s in our room all the time? And Thing gives a killer neck massage.” Enid confesses, “So why the change of heart?” 

“I refuse to play the role of a pawn in someone else’s corrupt game.” 

“You mean Rowan?” Enid says, her cheery tone never ceasing. 

“We witnessed his murder, Enid.” Y/n responds.

“It’s just, we all saw him this morning.” Enid explains, “Very much, like, not dead.” 

“I know.” Wednesday says, uncrossing her arms, “Which leads me to believe I’ve been losing my mind.” She shrugs her shoulders and gives a defeated look, “It’s not nearly as fun as I had anticipated.” 

“Shared delusions, they get you, I’m telling ya.” Y/n adds. 

“You are Nevermore’s gossip queen, what’s Rowan’s story?” Wednesday asks. 

“Other than being a weird loner? Uh, no offense.” Enid quickly adds. 

“None taken.” Wednesday responds, the tiniest smile pulls at her lips for a moment. 

“Xavier Thorpe’s his roommate, you know if you had a cell phone you could just text him and ask him. Why didn’t you ask Y/n?” Enid turns to yell at Yoko before either could answer, “Flare those whiskers! The Poe Cup droops for no one.” 

Y/n laughs at Enid’s dramatics. 

“What is the Poe Cup anyway?” Wednesday asks. 

“Only my entire reason for living right now.” Enid breathes out, “Part canoe race, part foot race, no rules. Each canoe has to pick an Edgar Allan Poe short story for inspiration. You could grab a brush. Ms Thorhill’s just ordered pizza, want to take a stab at being social?"

“I do like stabbing.” Wednesday responds and looks around, “The social part, not so much. Besides, it will cut into my writing time.” 

“No worries, as long as you’re with Y/n on the lakeside cheering us to victory on race day!” Enid exclaims. 

Wednesday says nothing, “Or you can just glare uncomfortably, whatever works for you.” Y/n turns to Wednesday and gives her a playful wink. 

The girl dressed in all black turns without a word and goes back inside, presumably to her dorm. 

After a bit Y/n realizes she left her favorite top in Enid’s room and decides that she immediately needs it. 

“Right now?” Enid asks. 

“Yes Enid, right now. Or else I will forget about it or even worse, I won’t be able to focus on anything except for my top and I will mess up your canoe.” Y/n explains, really she was just getting bored and the sun began to irritate the exposed skin of her legs. But she did have a shirt that was left in Enid’s room. 

“Okay, yes go.” Enid instructs, sending the vampire on her merry way. 

When she arrives at Enid and Wednesday's dorm she can hear the distinct tapping of Wednesday on the typewriter. The girl doesn’t give Y/n a glance or even stop her typing when she enters.

Y/n pays no mind to her or Thing as she goes to look for her shirt. Until suddenly the typing stops and Wednesday stands up from her desk. 

“Come with me, we need to go find Rowan.” Wednesday demands, and Y/n was too afraid to ask what for or to deny her. She simply stood from where she was sitting on the floor, and followed Wednesday.

After searching the school for a good hour, Y/n spoke up, “Maybe we should go ask Weems…”

Quickly the pair make their way to Weems' office for the second time that day. 

“We need to speak with Rowan, and we can’t find him.” Wednesday had been speaking for both of them a lot lately Y/n notes. 

“It won’t be possible, I’m afraid. He’s been expelled.” Weems doesn’t look up from her laptop. 

“For what?” Y/n asks. 

“Never you mind. He’ll be on the first train out this afternoon. What were you doing out in the woods with him in the first place?” Weems finally looks up from her work. 

“We told you already.” Wednesday regurgitates the same lie from this morning, “We heard a noise, I went to investigate. And Y/n didn’t want me going alone.” 

Weems scoffs, “That excuse might have placated the sheriff, but you can’t fool me. You had a psychic vision, didn’t you?” 

Wednesday’s gaze shifts, “I realized you might be having them when we passed by the accident, and you knew that poor farmer had broken his neck. Your mother started having visions around your age. They were notoriously unreliable, and dangerous. I remember at first, she thought she might be losing her mind. Have you spoken to her about them? Clearly the person withholding information here is you.”

“May I go now?” Wednesday asks. 

Y/n thinks that Wednesday may be feeling uncomfortable with what Weems has said, but Wednesday is harder to read than most people. She keeps her cards close to her. 

“Not until you’ve picked your extracurricular activity. We want our students to be well rounded.” Weems attitude takes a whirlwind change. 

“I’d prefer to remain sharp-edged.” Wednesday crosses her arms. 

“I took the liberty of putting together a list of clubs that have openings.” Weems slides a list on the desk. 

“How thoughtful.” Wednesday looks down. 

“You need to have picked one by the end of the day. I’ll be keeping my eye on you, no doubt you’ll find something that tickles your fancy.” Weems says. 

“The last person who tickled me lost a finger.” Wednesday said, moving to pick up the list. 

The two quickly leave the room to where Thing is waiting for them. 

“Weems is clearly trying to keep tabs on me. Keep an eye on Rowan.” Wednesday speaks to the appendage, “Don’t let your fingers out of his sight.” 

The three part ways, Thing going to Rowan, Wednesday to find an extracurricular to check out, and Y/n to go to the bee hive with Eugene. 

“Where have you been?” Eugene asks as Y/n enters the little shack. 

“I was busy,” Y/n responds, putting on the hat and net that keeps the bees from her face. She never wore the full suit, claiming that the bees wouldn’t hurt her as long as she didn’t harm them. 

Y/n worked in the shed and glanced out the window to see a figure Y/n had begun to know all too well made its way towards them.

“Are you interested in the ancient art of beekeeping?” Eugene asks Wednesday, who turns around to face the boy. 

“Eugene, Eugene Ottinger.” He sticks out a gloved hand, “Founder and president of the Nevermore’s Hummers.” 

Wednesday shook his hand, “Wednesday, Wednesday Addams. Am I late or is it only you?” 

“Y/n L/n is in the shed, but it’s only the two of us. The hive life isn’t for everyone.” Eugene responded, “Most kids are afraid of venomous insects. Are you willing to feel the sting?” 

Eugene leads Wednesday into the shed to get her a suit. 

“Y/n, this is Wednesday Addams.” Eugene introduced. 

Y/n smiled coyly, “So I’ve heard, we keep meeting.”

“Great.” Eugene says, handing Wednesday a suit and leaving the shack. 

The white is a stark contrast to Wednesday’s usual attire, “Why don’t you wear the suit?” Wednesday asks. 

“They won’t sting you as long as you don’t give them reason to. I’m not afraid of them.” Y/n says, fond of the bees. 

Wednesday opens the door and goes back outside to where Eugene waits, as he talks she inspects the gloves. 

“Bees have been producing honey in the same way for a hundred-fifty million years. They’re nature's perfect community. All working together to achieve a common goal.” Eugene goes on about bee facts. 

Y/n spots Thing off to the side between two hives, she didn’t know what he was trying to tell Wednesday but she assumed it was important. Y/n’s gaze shifts to Eugene before Wednesday wanders off. 

“Nothing personal buddy, she disappears a lot.” Y/n reassures the boy as he sighs defeated. 

The next day during Ms Thornhill’s Wednesday is scolding Thing who was hidden behind a plant. Enid gossiped about this or that, while Y/n was in her own little world.

“I see you finally made a friend.” BIanca teases Wednesday, “Even if it is a plant.” 

“I go for quality over quantity.” Wednesday retorts, causing Bianca to roll her eyes and sit down. 

Y/n sat in her usual seat, only this time Enid didn’t sit next to her. Wednesday did, Enid shrugged and sat next to Yoko. 

“Wednesday, we are thrilled to have you join us on our journey into the world of carnivorous plants. Now,” Ms Thornhill turned to address the class, “who can tell us the name of this beauty?” 

“Dendrophylax lindenii.” Wednesday responds without a second thought. 

“Other known as a ghost orchid.” Bianca says. 

“First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1854.” Wednesday recites from memory. 

“Wednesday, perhaps you can identify the ghost orchid’s greatest qualities.” Ms Thornhill suggested. 

“Resilience and adaptability.” She says, “It’s able to thrive in even the most hostile environments.” 

“But its mere presence can change the ecosystem,” Bianca butts in, “causing the established plants to reject it.” 

Wednesday responds, “Usually because the native species is allowed to thrive, unchecked.” 

Y/n can’t help but wonder if this was actually about plants as she stared at Wednesday’s side profile. The girl beside her was textbook weird, but she was undeniably beautiful, something about her drew Y/n in.

“Nothing a weed wacker couldn’t fix.” Wednesday continues. 

“You can most certainly try.” Bianca says in a faux sweet tone. 

“This is definitely not about flowers.” Y/n says to no one in particular, and changes her focus to her notebook. 

For the remainder of the lesson, she doodles in the margins of her notebook paper. She even doodles a small cat on Wednesday’s paper, who feels an unsettling fondness for the girl sitting beside her. 

Y/n sat on the grass next to Enid as she painted on the canoe, Wednesday approached the pair. 

“I have to go back to the woods. But Weems has been circling me like a vulture circling a carcass.” Wednesday says, standing over Y/n, addressing Enid.

“And you want to return to the scene of a crime that didn't happen? Enid asks, not looking away from her artwork. 

“I have beekeeping club this afternoon, I need you as a decoy.” Wednesday explains. 

“Sorry, two strikes.” Enid scrunches up her nose, “I’m busy, and bees totally creep me out.” 

“Why don’t you ask Thing?” Y/n asks, tilting her head to look at Wednesday who looks down at her.  

“Oh you can’t because he’s mad at you.” Enid says before Wednesday can speak.

“Why’s he mad? He’s the one who screwed up with Rowan.” Wednesday questions. 

“All I know is that we spent an hour giving each other manis, and he really opened up. He feels like you don’t respect him as a person.” Enid explains. 

“Well technically, he is only a hand.” Wednesday looks at Enid. 

“Wednesday!” Y/n scolds from the ground. 

“He’s your family! And he would do anything for you. Go apologize and I’ll reconsider helping you.” Enid suggests as Wednesday walks off to, presumably, find the appendage. 

“You gave Thing a mani, but not me?” Y/n suddenly asked. 

“We talked about you too, you have grown very fond of Wednesday Addams.” Enid says. 

“What?” Y/n asks, feigning confusion. 

“You have a crush on Wednesday.” Enid repeats in a sing-songy voice. 

“Shut up, I will drain you of all of your blood.” Y/n threatens. 

Y/n didn’t know what about Wednesday drew her in so much, maybe it was her dark eyes, or the way she said whatever was on her mind not caring about what others thought. What she didn’t know was that Wednesday was having an internal battle of her own about the same feelings.

[spextr1m]

Growing up with Ben Tennyson (headcanons-Scenario)

⚠️ = Spoilers, jealousy, kidnapping, mutation (reader), Mpreg, swearing, Ben's hand is the Thing from Addams Family, heartbreak moments, childhood enemies to lovers (sorta of?), arachinchimp coded reader, fear of rejection, OOC Ben

A/N: Gender neutral reader

10-11 years old

- You first met him when Ben was framed

- It didn't go off well was because he was being brat which led you getting irritated

- You two are pretty much schoolmates in same school but you didn't know him well

"Bleh! I am not gonna hang out with other doofus!" Ben crosses his arms and makes a face only you get irritated

"Will you just SHUT up?" You immediately riled up and replied back.

- Even though you're quite an opposite of him, it didn't stop you from calling him out

- Only you realized that he's hiding something from you which is him being "Silly" (to cover up his fear)

- But if you get kidnapped by aliens or human like, it's time for Ben to confess that it should've be him not you (Remember Gwen got kidnapped and he went apeshit) shows that he does care for you.

- You two like Sumo Slammers which strengthen your bond with him.

- That's where he'll open up to you although slowly.

-When Ben unlocked Feedback and favoring that alien, you cant help but to feel replaced so you got heartbroken the way that he favors Feedback.

- Remember how he's secretly sorry for Kevin? Yeah you're conflicted whether you should feel bad for him or... No.

- But in return, you tease Gwen for simping over Kevin

- You and Gwen get along quite well

-You ended up crushing on Ben but you felt tad sad that he has a crush on Kai.

- Unfortunately before the event of AF-Omniverse, your parents have to move out of town and you bid farewell to Tennyson family.

15-16 years old

-You went back in Bellwood and you'd think that nothing change in here until.. It sorta did?

- Gwen is now mature while Ben... Well

-He's now showing maturitiy besides him being silly all the time

-You headed to Mr. Smoothie and being overwhelmed by its changes until you bumped into a green jacket

"Oh sorry, I didn't see you here" You apologize to that guy who's standing by

"Y/N?" Your eyes shot opened when you hear familiar voice and you looked at this person revealing to be Ben.

-You two at first, awkward since you two haven't talk for long time now until he broke the silence about how you're doing in other town

- Turns out you have a boyfriend (which he congratlute you but tingle of jealousy filled him), your parents are very much bus than the usual, and normal life too than him.

- You're also shocked when you realized that Ben was preggo (pregnant) was because of Big Chill being a seahorse

"Wait, you're a mother this whole time????" Your jaw drops when you see mini versions of Big Chill, now staring at Ben who's also disbelief

"Uhhhh yeah?" He's embarrassed that he gave birth to mini Big Chill while staring.

"Damn... No wonder why you ate a pickle" He's surprised you notice smallest details about him but secretly happy that you notice small details about him.

"The next thing was you supposed to be stringray alien but then you ended up becoming THAT thing!" Of course you didn't know about his new aliens' names to be honest with you, you get mixed up with Big Chill and Jetray was because they're both flying aliens well sometimes.

-Sometimes you made a joke that Kevin loves his car than Gwen

-Which Ben spit his smoothie, laughing his ass off.

"He's planning a wedding and his bride would've be a car-" You made a comment about Kevin's car only Ben spit his smoothie, laughing his ass off while his hand slapping your back.

"What? I'm being honest-" Which it also makes him laugh harder.

-You also freaked out that Ben's hand was sentient and crawling onto you which you immediately threw his hand at almost everything including him

"BENJI, YOUR FUCKING HAND IS CRAWLING AGAIN-" You freaked out as you began to grab Ben's hand which also makes Kevin laugh at you freaking out

"NOT FUNNY DUDE!" You added up right after you threw his hand at the wall, annoyed that Kevin continues to laugh.

-Unfortunately, your parents had to call you again to go back to other town which you bid bye to Ben again hoping you'll return someday.

-Bad luck tells you that, your boyfriend has broken up with you because two of you are now pursuing different school times and distant too.

-Ben got famous thanks to that kid who exposed his identity to the entire damn fucking world which you cannot help but to be worried about him and his family which adds his burdens as a teen.

-Luck is in your hands that your parents moved back to Bellwood

-You're also shocked to hear that Ben and Julie broke up (Writers fucked up their love life)

- So fame gets to his head that he becomes arrogant so bad that you called him out (he apologizes afterwards and wants to make it up for you)

- Unfortunately because of alien shenanigans, you ended up being... mutated into an alien. You immediately freaked out bout your new form and have many thoughts that Ben wouldn't like your ugliness and your parents rejecting you for being a mutant.

- Since you now see yourself as a "monster", you immediately distance yourself from Ben which he cannot help but to be worried about you.

- Like he ASKS Gwen what to do when your friend went missing and she replied that he'll find you.

- Okay now setting to Omniverse, still cocky teenager boi but he does concern for you

- Like if you have an ID mask, Ben will ask plumbers to track while worrying for you.

- It wasnt until a random ass villain and then you of course, you have basic knowledge about your newfound powers thanks to the id mask that makes you unrecognizable even though you easily forgetting your own face.

- *Inserts Ben fighting villain*

-You try to save Ben only the mask got knocked off immediately exposing your true form

-You freaked out when you see yourself again which you began to run away until Ben stops you from running away

"WAIT DONT GO Y/N!" He stops you from running away, fearful that he didn't like you AT all.

"Just go away, Ben." You shoo him away while distancing yourself away from him, his eyes are shot opened when he sees you in that mutant form

"Where have you've been? I haven't see you for time like this and... I've thought that I'd lose you." Ben shows his concern towards you for going missing, his eyes are filled with sad, care and worry..

But you take it as rejection, this self loathing intensifies that he didn't like you for being a mutant which you sadly looking down which also makes Ben begins to reassure you

"I don't really think you're hideous." Your eyes blinked, registering what he said, his footsteps getting near to you and his voice is now sincere.

"You.. Think so?" Your extra arms are crossing while your other arms are hanging, still saddened that you look like this.

"Of course! Do you really think I'll reject you because you're no longer human? I don't care what other people think of you so please... Y/N, let me help you." Ben offers his hand for you, at first you'd thought he's bluffing until you offer your hand which he pulled you into a hug.

You and Ben slowly blossomed into more than friends

-You continue to wear an ID mask but in the indoors, you showed up your mutated form and hang out with him but the outdoors, you still continue to wear ID Mask unless if its Undertown

- You two usually hang out in Undertown

-If Ben has bad day, don't worry you'll comfort him

- But if you have shitty day, Ben will also comfort you

- These feelings showed more

- Who kiss first?: Ben

- You slowly reverting your old personality

- He lets you mess his hair up

[vinelark]

With the exciting news of Kon being in MAWS season 3 (!!!!!), do you have an specific recs for him when it comes to comics? (I know Young Justice is good for him, but not much outside of that)

hello! exciting news indeed!!! and hell yeah, here are some kon-centric comics outside of yj that i’ve enjoyed reading:

Reign of the Supermen arc (1993)

this arc has kon’s intro, well before he even had the name kon, and it’s worth a read if you haven’t already because of the way he shows up and is peak annoying immediately (said with love). especially Adventures of Superman #501! (the storyline spans a number of titles, reading order here)

(and for a related rec, the reign of the superman (2019) animated movie blends aspects of the original comic arc with the “kon is made with lex luthor’s dna” reveal/retcon; it’s a fun watch! left me with Much To Think About pang-wise, too.)

Superboy (1994)

the most concentrated amount of og jacket and glasses superboy you’ll find in one series; there’s a lot going on here, most of it so very 90s (both in the plot/world and on a more meta level) and also so many adorable kons. special shoutout to my favorite side character, krypto in his “tiny white terrier with a giant attitude” form. (and for a more specific rec i’ll point to issues #60 - 61, in which kon is hopping through multiple realities and we see, among others, robin!kon and “supergrrrl” kon.)

Batgirl (200) #41

this is the issue where cass goes “hmm, i should try to do A Romance” and shows up outside kon’s window to see what all the fuss is about, and they proceed to have the most lavender date of all lavender dates. i adore kon’s inability to shut up here, and also for obvious reasons need to give it a special shoutout for kon taking a “bat-babe” on a date in the clouds.

Adventure Comics (Vol 2) #1 - 6 (2009)

this arc serves to re-settle kon into the world (and smallville) after the whole [waves hand] dying and coming back to life thing. (technically it’s 12 issues, but you’re asking for specific recs so my specific recs are the first six!) this is about kon starting life in smallville and having a prolonged identity crisis re: the superman + lex luthor of it all. cassie, bart, and tim all show up as significant guest stars (one of my fav tim & kon issues of all time is in here) but it’s very kon-centric! i also really enjoy the art, especially when it does wide/landscape shots.

Superboy (2010)

this is a pretty direct continuation from the adventure comics arc, once again feat. kon’s 21st century black t-shirt (sigh) and also kon wearing the tiniest, goofiest pair of Disguise Glasses. that said, it’s a fun, classic “teen superhero juggles school and crushes and a statistically high number of supervillains for a small town (seriously, what the hell was poison ivy even doing in kansas?)” series. also if there were any justice in the world simon valentine would’ve been one of those crushes, but alas.

Convergence: Superboy (2015) #1 - 2

i’ll be honest, i’m not super familiar with the overarching convergence storyline, but i really enjoyed this two-shot featuring a kon who has been stuck in metropolis without his powers, only to suddenly gain them back and immediately start brawling with alternate versions of heroes he knows. i also like the art in this one, and the character designs overall—leather jacket kon my beloved!

Action Comics (2016) #1020 - 1028 (“House of Kent” arc)

this sequence brings kon back into the kent family fold after the timeline fuckery (and i think follows from the young justice (2019) gemworld arc where they re-find kon?)—so basically it’s kon’s re-introduction to clark, and to lois and jon (who’s visiting from his own future adventure) and kara and martha and jonathan. despite spelling conner’s name two different ways in the span of a few issues, it’s a neat speedrun of different kon+superfam interactions, and also a fun time for anyone who’s a fan of kon being solidly part of the kent family. also: jacket kon is back 🙏

this is not at all an exhaustive list, just some of my favs--happy reading!

[burn-before-reading]

hiii! could i pls request reader x joost where reader meets his friends??? (stuntje, apson, tantu etc.) :3 thank u!!

Smitten

Joost Klein x shy! reader

word count: ill count it later

warnings: anxiety, imposter syndrome

a/n: This one got away from me. it was supposed to be shorter hahaha. idk if its what you expected but i had fun writing it :) not related to this fic but i love this picture so much Joost in skirts yall <3

also mini life update im finishing school rn so thats my focus. won’t completely abandon this blog but ill be offline a lot

RPF Below the cut ——

“We komen te laat, liefje” (we are gonna be late, love.)

You quickly slipped your shoes on and grabbed your jacket before meeting him at the door. opening your arms you do a little spin to show off your outfit.

“I look okay?”

“Yes, you look beautiful don’t worry.”

“Okay okay. Do the shoes match tho? I think maybe the black boots went with it better, and the shirt feels too fancy, gimmie like five-“

“Schatje,” he coos, grabbing your shoulders to steady you. He starts rubbing them slowly and you take a big breath in and out to relax yourself. “Its just my friends, they’re gonna love you I promise.”

“I know I know, I just wanna make a good impression.” you smile up at him sheepishly and he goes to kiss your forehead. he lets you go but moved his hand to grab yours and intertwines your fingers and tugs you gently out the door.

You make it to Tantu’s apartment about twenty minutes later, and you feel like you need a pep talk all over again. Joost feels your hesitation at the door and squeezes your hand tighter for reassurance before knocking. You can’t really say for sure why you are so nervous meeting his friends, but then the door opens and you are greeted by tantu himself. He introduces himself and immediately pulls you into a hug.

“we’ve heard so much about you. come in come in.”

The two of you walk in and you quickly scan the guests of the house party. Joost is familiar with most, but to you its a room of strangers and you feel all the butterflies in your stomach begin to turn. Joost leads you to where his main group of friends reside and you try to just focus on him and the feeling of your hand in his.

“Hey guys, this is y/n, my partner.” Joost introduces you to the group. “y/n, thats Apson, Alanis, Stuntje, and you met Tantu of course..” he takes the time to introduce each of his friends, and they all quickly wave or say hi to you. The girl you learned was Alanis stands up to shake your hand and go in for a hug as well, startling you again, but once again appreciating how friendly they are being.

“Hi, we’ve heard so much about you! great to finally meet you.” She takes both your hands and holds them. “You should sit.” she starts to pull you away from Joost and you turn and make a face that implies help? he just shrugs. “Theres drinks in the kitchen, Joost, if you guys want something.” she says and he hesitates before walking away.

“ill be okay for a second i promise.” you reassure. you see him slightly mouth something, probably in dutch, to Tantu, but he just shrugs and smirks before following behind.

You sit down and start to feel all their eyes on you. Tapping your foot nervously, you try to find the words to start a conversation, but Apson beats you to it.

“So you work at a coffee shop, right?” he asks. you nod.

“Yeah, for the last couple years or so. Its where I met Joost actually.” You see him just nod and smile, like he’s heard a version before.

“So, uh… what do you guys do for a living?” you ask and they start going around describing all their different creative jobs. Director, music production, art, content creation. The whole variety of creative jobs and it just makes you feel small. They are all so successful. Joost is so successful.

What are you doing here.

“So you and Joost have been dating for Three months, right?” Alanis asks, and you turn to her again.

“Uh, something like that. Its probably a little closer to 2 actually, but I guess we’ve been talking for a but longer than that so uh..” You feel a lump in your throat and start rapidly checking the room for Joost but he is no where to be seen. In your scan, you see a balcony that seems mostly empty so you quickly stand up and make an excuse to leave. “sorry, Uh, im gonna check on Joost.” you say and quickly walk the exact opposite direction of the kitchen and to the balcony. Two seconds later Joost comes back with two drinks in his hand and sees the empty spot where you should be. Glancing at the looks on his friends faces he just sighs.

“what the fuck, guys.”

-

On the balcony you try and use the fresh air to calm yourself down. Taking a breath in and out you just close your eyes in an attempt to center yourself. The sound of the screen door opens and closes behind you and you hear a voice pipe up.

“Sorry if we overwhelmed you. Joost told us you might be shy.” Alanis apologies. You open your eyes and smile at her.

“Its okay. Just feeling a bit out of place is all.” you reply and she tilts her head at your comment.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you guys have all these super cool creative jobs, you’ve all known each other for so long it seems. Ive just barely met you all and I can already feel the talent and charisma radiating off you guys. I just make boring coffee.”

“Oh thats nonsense, you’re not boring at all. Joost wouldn’t have gone out of his way to go to your work every day if you were.” she smiles, “If we came off as overly friendly, its just because we were excited to meet the person Joost has been so taken with these past few months.”

“Guessing he talked about me a lot, huh?”

“Since day one.”

that admission piqued your interest a bit. “really?”

“Im serious. He walked out your shop that day and immediately texted Apson, ‘Just met the love of my life’ I don’t even think he had your name yet.” she laughs and you laugh a little as well learning about this side of Joost. You had known that he had been going out of his way to visit the shop you worked at as often as possible, but you didn’t know how taken he was with you right away.

“ I knew he started stopping by often, I just thought he liked our pastries.”

“He was Smitten. sorry again for being so overwhelming. Joost came back and lectured us all the second you left.” she admitted. The idea of Joost being so upset at his friends being too welcoming made you laugh.

“Its alright. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed i suppose.”

“Mind if I smoke?” Joost knocks on the open glass door before joining the two of you. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him before lighting his cigarette and taking a drag. he takes his cigarette with his free hand to lean a little closer to you and whispers. “alles goed, liefje?" (you alright, love?)

you nod and Smile at Alanis. “Yes, just needed some air. your friends are nicer than I expected.”

He nods and squeezes your waist before taking another drag and offering you his cigarette.

“I think im gonna head back inside. you two will be good?” Alanis asks and you smile and nod.

“I’ll join you in a sec.”

She heads back in. the second she is gone Joost immediately asks. “so how much did she spill?”

“only the good stuff.” you look at him and grin. “don’t worry I was smitten from day one too.”

[lotus02lavish]

Pls do Lukas x reader headcanons!!

《 Replied: High school is killing me. Anywho, I shall casually throw this request to y'all with love, YEET-》

↬[Minecraft Story Mode (MCSM) Video Game ⚔ Romantic & Fluff 💕 Headcanons 🧠]

"Wow. Never knew you cared so much."

Dating Lukas would include:

✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚⊹๑‧₊ ᘏ✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚⊹๑‧₊ ᘏ✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚

🏇🏼 Horse riding together! The classic ride off to the sunset, racing giddily to the forest, sometimes one of you fall down because distracted focusing on one another and get stuck on the trees.

🎯 Him teaching you how to do archery.

"Gee, you're my cupid, y'know?"

"Shh, stay focus on the target, ;)"

Playing "The Building Dare" game. The two of you are too competitive with passion; although Lukas might let himself lose a few times, seeing you happy is already a prize for him to gain.

Using stealth mode to steal his jacket causes Lukas to chase you until he tackles and tickles you down, which forces you return it to him. But, wait, he realizes you look more attractive wearing the Ocelot jacket. So, yeah, he does not mind you wear it more often now.

🌻 Lovingly giving you a tall and big sunflower on valentine's day

📖 Going to a library and peacefully being bookworms as you rest your head on his shoulder and he leans to your head.

Enjoyingly hearing him speak about his narrative of writing stories 24/7 a day, he accepts your opinions and criticism since he likes you being his listener or reader of his work more than anyone else.

(Gotta put the random modern au category right here): Lukas strongly dislikes horror movies, he would rather spend movie nights with you by watching the family-friendly or comedic-romantic genres. His favorites are obviously: Grease (1978 version), Bridge to Terabithia, and Tangled.

He will never let you out of his sight whenever there might be danger lurking around during the adventures you two would spend.

🌧 When it is raining that both of you forgot to bring an umbrella, you quickly jump to his back for a piggyback ride, and he hands you over his jacket to cover both of you. Then you shout, "Ok, let's go!" as he tries to run while screaming in sync to find shelter.

✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚⊹๑‧₊ ᘏ✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚⊹๑‧₊ ᘏ✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Aku Cinta Dia - Chrisye

"Hati yang berbunga Pada pandangan pertama Oh Tuhan tolonglah Aku cinta, aku cinta dia."

"Flowering heart At first glance Oh God please I love, I love her."