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subcultureblues · 2 months ago

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When I Feel That Something (I Want To Hold Your Hand)

T | Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson | tags : Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship | cw : Period-Typical Homophobia, Discussions of Homophobia

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It’s late and it’s been a long but lazy day. Eddie and Steve decided to go to that one diner in town that’s open late.

Eddie was drumming along to a nonexistent tune, his fingertips tap tapping away on his lap. He looked over at Steve very studiously reading the menu.

“You’re actually getting something different?”

“Nah.” Steve said without looking up. Eddie grinned. He figured as much. Steve was a creature of habit. Eddie was pretty sure he’d anyurize if they came here one day and they were out of strawberry ice cream for his milkshake.

And then he felt it. The slick bastard…. Without taking his eyes off the menu Steve had slipped his hand onto Eddie’s lap and tangled up their fingers.

He’s tenacious. Eddie’ll give ‘im that. Of course one glance around the diner and he was elbowing Steve between the ribs.

“Hey.” Steve held the wandering hand against where Eddie had jabbed him as if it actually hurt, the big baby. “What was that for -“

“Heya. I’m Mylene. What can I get y’all tonight?” Eddie gave Steve a fabulously vindicated, ‘I told you so’ look as their waitress materialized.

She must be new or something because Eddie’s never seen her working here before.

Eddie let Steve order for him, because he too, is a creature of habit and Steve knows what he likes. The waitress hadn’t seen anything, clearly - considering she’s definitely flirting with him.

She’s pretty too. Soft, delicate face. A real Miss Indiana.

Eddie pretends to study his rings and Steve pretends not to notice her overtures.

And that’s as good as it’s ever gonna get.

As soon as she walked away Eddie could feel Steve scooting closer.

“Sittin’ awful close there, Stevie.” Eddie teased, smiling casually and looking straight ahead.

“Yeah, yeah…” he heard Steve slide back a few inches down the seat. Eddie snuck a glance and chuckled.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty when you pout.” Eddie whispered, nonchalantly stretching to rest his arms over the back of the booth. For just a second, he let the tip of his thumb brush the back of Steve’s neck.

Softly, Eddie hummed that one song Steve put on when he was feeling corny. I wanna hold your hand-a-aand. I wanna hold your hand. Because Eddie did. Really did.

Steve smiled ruefully, but! He was smiling. As good as that was ever gonna get either.

When they get their separate checks, and no she didn’t ask, Steve’s had a number scribbled on the bottom. Next to the waitresse’s name and a little heart. Eddie looked down at it and huffed dryly, like maybe it was funny.

Steve reached past him and crumpled it. Left it there with the discarded napkins as they got up to leave.

“Can you believe her?” Steve muttered after they had stepped out of the diner and into the dark and cold. Eddie shoved his fists in his pockets for warmth.

Steve looked back at Eddie expectantly.

“Can’t fault a gal for good taste.” He shrugged. She didn’t do anything untoward. Eddie knew that. Steve did too. Still he was high strung, his shoulders tensed as they walked up to the van.

“You gotta get your head in the game, man.” Eddie said, opening the driver side door.

“What are you talking about?” Steve said, pausing in front of the open passenger side to look up and bite the inside of his cheek. When they were both inside they closed the doors and locked out the night chill.

“Come on, Stevie.” And then more reluctantly, almost apologetic he said, “You know what I’m talking about…”

“Yeah.” Steve pouted. God, what an adorable, majestic labradoodle of a man. Eddie never stood a chance…

Steve crossed his arms, uncrossed them. Crossed them again. “This sucks.”

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugged. “Doesn’t matter though. No, I’m serious. Stop with the face. I’m not gonna risk you getting - “ Eddie huffed. Obviously, Eddie wasn’t upset with him. But honestly… would it so hard for Steve, just once in his life, to not be quite so brave and shining and true. Just once.

For Eddie’s sake if not his own.

“You.” He said, “Do not get to get hurt over this shit. Capiche?” Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Steve mouth the word Capiche back to himself. Eddie valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes back into his skull. The two of them actually do have to take turns being entirely juvenile or nothing ever gets done around here. “I’m not - fucking letting that happen, alright? It’s just not worth the risk. So yeah. It sucks. But you gotta stop - “

“What?” Steve raised a bitchy eyebrow.

Eddie laughed, a bit startled at how just fond that look makes him feel. “Being cute.”

“Being cute?” Steve scoffed.

“Mmhmm.” Eddie said pulling out of the parking lot. “Cute.” He nodded definitively.

Steve rolled his eyes. He quietly waited for Eddie to finish fiddling with the radio, til he found a compromise worthy station, before speaking again.

“Ok, well.” Steve looked around. The roads were empty. It was dark. “What about, now….?”

Eddie lolled his head to look the opposite direction as Steve, biting his lip to hold back a ridiculously satisfied smile. Only then could he bare it - to glance at his boyfriend.

He was so sure Steve could see the big cartoon hearts in his eyes. It was annoying, when he was trying so hard to give Steve the ‘I told you to quit it’ eyes.

Steve put his hand over Eddie’s on the stick shift and locked their fingers together. Made a petulant noise, as if he was in active defiance.

“You’re one to talk about being obvious…”. Steve muttered

Eddie laughed. Steve had him dead to rights on that one.

“You know usually you’re meant to look at the road when you’re driving.”

Yeah usually. But then there was Steve in his car. Which, made it hard. And Eddie was a weak, weak man.

“God Steve Harrington... I love you so much sometimes it makes me sick.” He said smirking. Shaking his head at himself more than anything.

Sue him. He’s got Steve Harrington (yes that one) on his arm. He’s gonna be a little bit love struck for the rest of his life.

But now Steve was just slightly pink and biting his lip. Trying to contain himself, struggle against the upward tilt playing at the corner of his mouth. Still playing at mad while giving Eddie the ooiest, gooiest of eyes.

“Shut up…”

“Yeah. Because you fell in love with me for my strong but silent demeanor.”

“Yeah.” Steve looked out the window and huffed a laugh, squeezing his hand. “Something like that…”

Eddie still has no idea what about his ‘wet rat on the run from Johnny Law’ look had managed to charm Steve, but he refused to question it.

Eddie shifted the car in a higher gear, but Steve’s hand stayed right there on his. Didn’t move the rest of the way home.

When they got back to the trailer, they puttered around in easy silence. It was familiar. Eddie kind of loved it. That Steve didn’t even ask before raiding his pack of beers. That he had shirts in the dresser and a toothbrush next to Eddie’s and that he left his ridiculous shampoo here even though he knows Eddie’s been siphoning from it.

Hell, at this point he knew what drawer they kept the spatula. It was downright domestic.

That’s right folks. Eddie Munson had officially gone soft.

They were hanging out in his bedroom, Eddie playing his guitar at the head of the bed, one leg hanging off it and the other bent at the knee facing Steve. He was crisscross on the foot of the bed, back against the wall. Tossing a baseball of unknown origin up and down.

“I wish I could hold your hand.” He said, catching the ball just to stare at it.

“Steve.”

“No. It’s - I should be able to. It’s messed up.”

Eddie shrugged. Because such is life, amright? No point getting bent up out of shape about shit so, so very far out of your control.

Steve just sighed.

Because Eddie was used to the uh, - sociological blue balling. Whereas Steve, was not. Because Steve was new to all this.

“You can hold my hand now.” Eddie offered, but then he looked down at his guitar and thought about the riff he had almost perfected. “Ok, well not now.”

He stuck up his leg in the air and offered it in Steve’s direction.

“Here take this.” He said. Steve gave him an unimpressed face. Or maybe he could just smell Eddie’s socks and that look was judgement. Eddie wiggled his leg around in front of him a bit until Steve relented and pulled Eddie’s foot into his lap. Eddie grinned satisfactorily.

The baseball ended up rolling onto the floor and under the bed. Likely from whence it came. Steve barely even noticed. Still looking the wrong side of forlorn.

“Maybe I just don’t know what I’m missing out on.” Eddie shrugged, going back to running scales.

“I wish you did…”

“You wish I knew what I was missing out on so I’d suffer the more for not having it?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty fucked up, Stevie.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

“I want - fuck, man… I wanna just kiss you whenever I feel like it. Put my arm around you when I feel like it. And you know what? Yeah, maybe I want you to know what it feels like to get shown off a little. You… you should be, deserve to get shown off, you know…”

Eddie looked up at Steve. He was staring into space looking wistful. Sad. His hand still vaguely holding Eddie’s ankle. Eddie gently set his Baby down on the floor, propped up against the nightstand. Refocused his attention on his other Baby. Steve turned his neck to face Eddie, head tilted against the wall.

“It sucks. When you’re sitting right there and it can’t be like how I want it to be.”

“How do you want it?” Eddie risked indulging the hypothetical.

“I want em to know you’re mine.” Steve shrugged, picking at loose thread on Eddie’s thread bare jeans.

Eddie flopped back onto the bed, head sinking deep into his pillow. Sometimes it was like Steve was trying to stop Eddie’s heart in its tracks. He glared at Steve down the bridge of his nose.

“I thought I told you to stop being cute.” He pretended to grouse.

Steve’s lip twitched up but it didn’t clear the upset on his face.

“Can’t help it I guess…” Steve said quietly. Distracted.

“No. I guess you can’t.” Eddie agreed. He outstretched his arms, raising them and leaving them suspended in the air. Beckoning for his sweet prince. Waiting for his Steve to come fall into them. “Come on.” He encouraged, with a begrudging tone - but really, who is he kidding.

Steve crawled up the bed, and sunk down on top of his chest. Christ, he was he heavy. And warm. Like the sexiest, most suffocating sleeping blanket to ever hit the market. The last blanket Eddie’d ever need.

Eddie really did love the way Steve used his chest as a pillow. Steve settled so he was mostly not crushing Eddie’s lungs. He snuggled his cheek against his usual spot. Right over where Eddie’s got that screaming face tatt, just getting comfortable.

Eddie ran a hand up and down his shoulder, hoping it did something to soothe this something in Steve. Squeezed his arms around him. Snuggled his own cheek against the top of Steve’s head.

“You think I wouldn’t be running around town screaming about, Steve Harrington, man of my dreams if I could.” He said eventually. He could hear Steve rolls his eyes. “Here ye, here ye! Thine King has the tightest, hottest, most fuckab-“

Steve pushed him away with a hand on his cheek.

“I’ll show you fuckable…” Steve mimicked, muttering nonsense. He looked up at Eddie from his chest. Eddie looked down at him, with a positively lecherous eyebrow.

A look that said, Oh baby. You already are.

And yet… Steve wasn’t preening. Usually he loved how Eddie could lighten the mood. Made light of things because sometimes it did start to make them feel lighter. Said it helped when he got too in his head. But Eddie got the distinct feeling Steve wanted to… talk.

“This comes with the territory of being little Missus Munson, hey stop it! Stop it! Hmph. Ow…”

Steve did stop trying to poke him to death with his pointer finger. Eddie sighed.

Perhaps counterintuitively… Eddie’s not the best at that. He can never seem to shut the hell up, until something important comes along and his silver tongue leaves him, the filthy deserter.

“It does though… It comes with the… me.”

“Eddie. S’not like it’s your fault.”

“Yeah… Doesn’t mean I can do anything to change it.” He said quietly. Staring at the ceiling so he didn’t have to look at Steve. “I remember you in highschool. You always had some girl on your arm.” He said, eyebrows raised and sounding detached.

Steve poked at him again which made Eddie wriggle but it didn’t shut him up.

“You’d be… holding hands in the hallway. Making out against your locker. Under the bleachers… In the lunchroom...”

“Eddie.” Steve frowned. Eddie shrugged the shoulder Steve wasn’t lying on, resigned.

“I - can’t give you that, Steve.” He said simply, though the words rose like bile in his throat. “This is… You can take it or you can leave it. But if you ever want to just,” Eddie felt too big for his skin. Felt sick and warm. Felt like his heart suddenly forgot its easy, devil-may-care rhythm. Which is why he tried not to think about it. This. Not to dream of things so far out of his reach. His eyebrows drew together. “You ever want to just - hold hands and walk down the street again… I’m not the person for that. You’re gonna have to um, your gonna need to, uh, find someone else.”

Someone like Mylene, Eddie thought numbly.

“Eddie.” Steve’s head rose from his chest. His face all twisted up. With that unconscionably cute pissed off little frown of his, the one he puts on when he gets all serious. The one for which Eddie had no earthly defense.

God, Eddie hated when his heart did this. Ached.

“Stop it. Don’t - I want to hold your hand. Show you off. Kiss you. Kiss you whenever I feel like it.” He scoffed. “Not just like for the fuck of it. What’s the point if it’s anybody but you, stupid.”

Eddie managed to smile. It was small and sad and he still couldn’t look at him. But it was there - and a lot more earnest than Eddie lets himself be a lot of the time.

Steve moved up his body and pressed his forehead to Eddie’s temple. Grounded them both at that point of contact.

“Hey.” Steve whispered. Eddie did finally face him. Prayed his eyes looked less scared than he felt. Steve put a warm open palm on the side of his neck. Slid it up to rest on his cheek. Stroking his thumb back and forth purposefully. He nosed at Eddie’s other cheek. “Hey. I love you. I really - I really need this. You.” He could feel the warmth of his breath in the shape of the words. Eddie dragged his nose down the bridge of Steve’s. He loved the way their skin on skin felt. Loved the way it made him feel, how it transported him somewhere simple and safe.

Like those ruby slippers from Wizard of Oz. Press them together, and suddenly… you’re home again.

Like magic.

“It kind of scares the shit out of me when you talk like that.” Steve said, quiet and pretending it hurts less than it really does.

Eddie closed his eyes and squeezed Steve in his arms.

“M’sorry.” Eddie mumbled into his neck. “…You know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Right?”

“I better be.” Steve ribbed gently.

“We’ll uh,” he cleared his throat, but it still felt like there were like, rocks stuck in there or something. He tried again. “You won’t ever be able to get married… can’t have kids - s’illegal and all.”

“So what? Ya know? So what. I get to have… this, right?” He grinned, reverently running a hand through Eddie’s mess of hair. Scratching his fingernails softly into the back of his neck. “And I’d like to see them try and take that from me. I have a pretty scary bat, you know.”

“I heard about that.” Eddie murmured.

“Yeah? It’s all covered in like, nails and demon blood and everything.” He laughed softly, pressing his face into Eddie’s hair.

“You’re very metal, baby.” Eddie said, placing a kiss on his neck.

“And don’t think I won’t use it.” Now it Steve trying to unsuccessfully lighten the mood.

Eddie uncurled and laid back, just staring at the ceiling.

“You want it though. You’ve always wanted that…”

“Well. Yeah…”

Eddie’s eyes start to sting and somewhere in the back of his head his dad’s voice is there telling him to stop being a pussy, that he’s being a real baby about this, that he’s always been a fucking idiot. He’s too loose limbed and sedated to bother toughen up. Too tired to be impenetrable.

Steve kissed him. On the cheek, softer than anything else in Eddie’s life.

Eddie’s been slowly trying to wisen up to the fact that uh. When he and Steve are all pretzeled up like this, their whole bodies a tangle. When it’s dark and quiet and just them. It’s actually fine to feel like a pussy, and a total baby, and a fucking idiot. It just makes Steve kiss him like that. Squeeze a little tighter. Makes him want to stay folded up like this longer, as long as they can. Even when Steve like really, really has to pee.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck he’s gonna do with himself when he looses this too. Steve nuzzles up against him, make a small sound. If, he tried to remind himself. If he looses it.

Pretty please, Jesus fucking Christ - Please be an if.

“I wanna marry you Eddie.”

“Ok.” Eddie shrugged, disaffected. He wants to marry Steve too.

He also wants a million dollars, a 84’ Flying V, to be trapped in an elevator with Gary Gygax for like 30 minutes, because he’s got some serious ideas about the rules alright?

He wants to be a rock star. He wants Wayne to be able to retire.

The wanting is the problem. It’s an indulgence that doesn’t do anyone much good. That just precedes a dull, drawn out ache.

Steve sat up very suddenly, straddling Eddie’s hips. And God, if Eddie’s not a boy because he’s way too easily distracted by Steve sitting on his dick. Steve stretches an arm out to reach over Eddie. He puts his hands on Steve’s hips to steady him as he goes to grab something off the nightstand.

Sweet. So they’re gonna fuck it out. Eddie won’t complain about that. Simple ecstasy? A carnal pleasure? That’s the #1 Munson Recomended method to treat self pitying bouts of despair, baby.

He was great with the words that didn’t matter, really not so much with the ones that did. And Steve always was and would be a man of action. And ok, maybe Eddie was even a little relieved to forget this conversation, this hole in his chest. Just, not have to think about it.

But then Steve didn’t present Eddie with a bottle of lube. Instead he was carefully holding one of Eddie’s rings pinched between two fingers. Eddie had slipped them off and put them on the nightstand (because as cool as they make him look on stage they’re clunky and obtrusive and practicing with them on his fingers gets on his nerves.)

“Marry me.” Steve said, presenting Eddie’s very own ring to him.

“Uh - “ His eyes crossed looking at it held up in front of his face.

Steve huffed.

“Fine. I Steve Harrington, ask thee, Eddie Munson, for your hand in marriage.” Steve said, gently picking up one of Eddie’s hands. He was just staring at Steve trying to figure out the punchline.

“Maybe not today, alright? But like, someday, right? There’s gotta be a a someday. And then I’m gonna marry you. First day they’ll legally let me do it.”

“Sure. We’ll probably be like, a hundred.”

“Ok.” He shrugged. Like for Steve it was that simple. It came that easy for him. “Would you want…?”

“Fuck you. Fuck you, man.” Eddie rolled them over so he was curled on top of Steve. Steve put up a struggle, slowly suffocating under him.

“I want it so bad it’s like a bullet to the chest.” He said, holding the love of his life down in an illegal wrestling move.

“You’f suz a drauma queen.” Steve mumbled under him. Eddie rested his weight his on his forearms, one on either side of Steve’s head, releasing the petulant creature from it’s confines. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“And you’re… something else, Harrington.”

“It’ll be Munson won’t it.” And there’s a second round, a clean shot to the heart. He hides his face in Steve’s neck, pretending he’s not squealing on the inside like a teenage girl with a bad case of Beatle-mania.

“Fuck off.” He sighs. “You’re gonna kill me one day, Steve Harrington.”

“Steve Munson.” He sputtered a little, mouth open like he was trying to get a stray hair out of it.

Eddie made a sound like he’s dying.

“God that sounds awful actually.” Eddie said, as if he’s not gonna be writing it in little hearts in the margins of his notebooks. “Just. Does not roll off the tongue. Like at all.”

Steve’s fingers were trailing featherlight up and down his spine. “Yeah.” He agreed. And Eddie could hear the smile on the bastards face.

“Robin can be our incubator.”

“She agreed to that?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Steve snorted. “But I’ll wear’er down. She’s a total sap.”

Eddie snorted. She was a god awful hopeless romantic.

“You’re gonna force that poor lesbian to pump out 4 little Harrington’s?”

“Little Munsones. Munsonses?”

“Munsons?” Eddie raised a condescending eyebrow.

“Besides I don’t need 4, I’ll already have one giant fucking baby waiting for me at home.” He digs his nose into Eddie’s cheek accusatorially.

“You get one.”

“Three.” Steve bargained, eyes squinting in challenge.

“Two.” Eddie said, grinning widely.

“And a dog.”

“You get a hamster.” Eddie said, feeling warm all over. “Final offer.”

Two little tikes running around the house, screaming like banshees. He could read them The Hobbit when they’re all tuckered out and tucked in, to put them to sleep. Use all his silly voices.

He could teach them D&D and they could all giggle and create chaos together as a family, sat around the dining room table.

They could play princes and princesses in the yard and Eddie could be the big mean dragon - that they then vanquish in glorious combat. He would fall to his knees and ‘die’ oh so dramatically. He knows he would.

When they’re real little, he could bounce them on his knee like a cowboy. Do stupid shit like play peek-a-boo and blow raspberries on their tummy’s til they barfed themselves laughing. All the stuff he doesn’t remember but had wanted anyways.

He pictures himself up at 2 am with Steve standing behind him, pressed against his back. Having finally gotten the wailing little beast in his arms to fall back asleep; and he gets to hold something small and fragile and full of so much living potential and do it better this time around.

Damn.

He was crying, wasn’t he?

He just noticed. Steve had noticed too. He was quietly kissing up Eddie’s jawline, into his temple. Running those magical hands through his hair in a way that made him want to pur like a cat.

“Eddie?” He spoke softly.

Eddie sniffed. He grabbed at the fist Steve was still holding the ring in. “Gimme.” He said, frowning.

“Hey.” Steve warned. He took Eddie’s left hand by the wrist, slowly coaxed his fingers open. Carefully slid the ring on. Stared at it on Eddie’s hand. Smiling just, way too smugly.

Eddie flexed his fingers, testing his grip. It’s literally the ring he wears on his left ring finger almost every single day.

And isn’t that something. The way Steve can take something that should be entirely mundane. And make it mean everything to Eddie, make it mean the fucking world.

A very serious expression crossed Eddie’s face, then he reached over to the night stand and grabbed a handful of the rest of his rings.

He opened his palm and sorted through them by size. “What are you doing?” Steve asked. Eddie shushed him. Steve clicked his tongue but he went easily when Eddie reached out to grab his left hand.

“Oh.” Steve said, as Eddie went about trying a few different rings on his fingers. Steve’s hands were a lot meatier than Eddie’s. Steve was a fit guy, you see. Even his hands were bigger, more muscular. Eddie had slender guitar player hands. But eventually he found one, a simple silver band with a fleur-de-lis that fit like Cinderella’s glass slipper.

“Mine.” Eddie said, hugging Steve’s forearm tightly and trapping it possesively against his own chest. Steve looked at the ring on his finger. He turned his hand around in Eddie’s grip to press it flat against Eddie’s heartbeat. Then Steve kissed him, rested their foreheads together.

“You’re such a brute, you know that?” Steve said, kissing him again.

“I’ll show you a brute.” Eddie raised his eyebrows suggestively. They kissed and kissed and kissed.

“Have you heard about what’s going on in New York? And like San Francisco and stuff.”

“The big gay revolution? Sure.” Eddie shrugged. Kissed him again. Lots of tongue.

Does it still count as premarital sex after whatever that was? Eddie’s gotta be honest, he’s a little disappointed at the idea of their sex life getting even the slightest bit less actively sinful.

“What do you think?”

“Hmmm? It’s a nice dream. I’ll give em that.” Steve gave him a look. Eddie scoffed.

“I want to… I can’t just sit here, man.” Steve said. Because Steve was a man of action. Because when Steve sees a monster he just starts swinging. He held Eddie’s hand in his own, looking at the ring that was next to meaningless 10 minutes ago and it just wasn’t anymore. “I’m not kidding. I am gonna marry you. I want to be out there. Doing that. Until they have to let me.”

“I dunno, man…. I’m more of a rebel without a cause.” Eddie said, because activism’s an idealist’s game.

“Oh, come ooon. Fighting the power. Sticking it to The Man. Riots in the streets. You gotta admi-t. Pretty metal….” He grinned, knowing each and every one of Eddie’s weaknesses and exactly how to tempt him.

“Yeah. Ok, yeah it kinda is.”

It would be nice. Knowing there’s other people like them is different from actually knowing other people who are like them. It’s crazy just how much Eddie’s life changed from having two people in the world who could get him the way Steve and Robin got him. They could drag her out there with them. Hit up the lesbian bars, ‘find her Eddie’ as she and Steve refer to it sometimes.

The music scene there is actually… existent. Unlike here. Eddie could… he try and make a name for himself.

They could… it sounds like a fucking pipe dream. That things could ever change. That people could ever change. That some day people like them wouldn’t have to be afraid of lingering glances or hands - or a kiss.

But… fuck if Steve’s optimistic smile wasn’t convincing him of something. Convincing Eddie that hey, it’s at least worth a try, right?

“I wanna hold your hand.” Steve said quietly, even thought he was already holding it.

“That’s not very metal at all.” Eddie teased.

“I dunno… Feels pretty metal to me.” He said, absently playing with Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie huffed a laugh.

“Yeah… Yeah I guess it really is.”

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #Steve Harrington #steddie ficlet #mine #I’m not joking when I say realistic Period Typical Homophobia #don’t worry though #the end is bright ♥️#title is from the Beatles song obvi because it just . MEANS something different to the gays aight

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fatcatlittlebox · 2 months ago

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It’s fascinating that TROP has shown Galadriel's instincts and intuition to consistently be sound and accurate. Time and time again, her insights bear out in reality.

She knew Sauron was alive

She knew his mark had greater significance

She knew where his shadow was rising

She sensed that Halbrand was not who he said he was (from the very beginning in fact)

She knew Elrond had gone to Cirdan

She knew the Three Rings would save the elves

She knew that Sauron wanted Adar to attack Eregion.

So why would that intuition fail her when it comes to Sauron? Not just that she knows his mind, his schemes and his malice but also when he was earnest, when he was broken and when they felt “it” fighting side by side. Something within him rang true and clear to Galadriel. Something she couldn’t deny. As this post by @cloudinthesky444 describes, their connection, as effortless and spontaneous as it was, possessed a rightness to it. She felt its authenticity. At one point, she trusted him, respected him and may have even loved him. I don't think that was a blind spot. I don't think she could have even allowed herself to feel love for him if that rightness had not been there. That sense of completion and of being seen and understood. It enticed not just her vanity and her pride, but her fea. His music and hers, not in cacophony but in harmony. Remember, she held the palantir. It showed her visions of Numenor's end. But it never revealed or hinted at the potential dark Maia that was standing right there as her ally. I think it was because Halbrand's regression to Sauron was not yet fated to happen. That path was still undefined. Even though Halbrand was a disguise, it was not an illusion. There was such a small window but I believe that Gal's intuition was always on point. Halbrand was devoted to her. Sauron believed in her as she did him. Galadriel once had aspirations of reclaiming Middle Earth from the darkness with Halbrand at her side. She wasn't foolish to believe so. If her instincts had allowed her to aspire to such dreams, then I think there was a real possibility of that future, however fleeting. Now that door is shut, but there were seeds of a hopeful future and they were planted with love and in good faith. I believe that as the story moves forward, their bond will bear fruit. Something beautiful and good will be borne of it, specifically from that small moment of time -- when Galadriel loved him and aspired to redeem them both. I think Galadriel's instincts and good faith will be repaid and she will be vindicated again.

#haladriel #saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #charlie vickers #morfydd clark #saurondriel meta #haladriel meta

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 1 year ago

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~all creatures great and small~ (amazing illustration by the awesome @david-talks-sw)

“And just what exactly is it that you’ve been doing?”

Obi-Wan had to stop himself from giving his fellow Councillor—and friend—a rather pronounced eyeroll.

“You tell me,” he said without taking his eyes off his clamoring little herd, feeling rather proud of himself. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Mace came up to his side and crossed his arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. He looked at Obi-Wan, then at his rambunctious little friends and their merrymaking, then back at Obi-Wan again.

“It looks like you have been avoiding meetings all morning.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at his mouth. He carefully put his hands in his large sleeves.

“Have I?” He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop laughing if he saw Mace’s no doubt exasperated face, so he kept carefully looking onward. “You should have called me.”

“You know I did,” Mace griped, valiantly ignoring the racket and still boring holes in the side of Obi-Wan’s face.

If it came to a contest of wills, Obi-Wan knew he’d be hard pressed to match Mace’s stubbornness. He turned to face him, and inevitably let out a huffed chuckle. Mace looked annoyed alright, but he could do nothing about the twinkle in his deep eyes.

“You,” Mace insisted, no doubt trying to maintain what he probably hoped to be a convincingly stern demeanor, “have spent all day corrupting our next generation instead of going over mission reports.”

“Really, Mace—”

A yellow blur careening between the two of them nearly knocked them off their feet. A beige, more bipedal one rushed right after it, bumping into them both with equal speed if not equal force.

“Sorry Masters!” the youngling yelled over her shoulder without stopping.

Obi-Wan had to cough into his fist to keep from cackling.

“Obi-Wan.” Mace said.

“She apologized,” Obi-Wan pointed out with a brilliant smile.

“You still haven’t.”

“What for?”

Mace’s control finally cracked, and he thrust an accusing finger at Obi-Wan’s innocent face, ready to give into a rare display of unrestrained aggravation. Obi-Wan quickly batted it away and beat him to the punch.

“It’s a perfectly good way of teaching the younglings patience and control!”

Mace blinked at him, his mouth left hanging open, his finger still up and now pointing somewhere over to the right. He turned slowly, and surveyed the bustling courtyard in bemusement. The half-dozen or so pufferpigs that Obi-Wan had let loose there were being corralled by three times as many eager younglings, clone cadets and Padawans, and the animals all felt entitled to express the full range of their feelings on the matter in a loud and enthusiastic fashion. Little Mari Amithest was still running after the particularly rowdy creature that had mistaken Obi-Wan and Mace for Rodian bowling pins.

Mace’s eyebrows climbed to previously undiscovered heights.

“What part of this,” he gestured incredulously, “is controlled?”

“None of the pigs have puffed yet,” Obi-Wan explained seriously.

Mace’s eyebrows were now on their way into orbit. A moment passed. Then, his expression of astonishment seamlessly melted into curiosity.

“They haven’t?” he asked, considering the whole bunch with renewed interest.

“I told you, it’s a proven method,” Obi-Wan insisted, vindicated. He pointed to the far corner of the courtyard, where Katooni was showing some of the younger children how to feed a happy looking unpuffed puffer. “My Padawan has taught that one to do tricks.”

The squealing puffer was hopping from one foot to the other before avidly sweeping treats from the children’s outstretched hands.

Mace was now looking suitably impressed. More careful study of Mari’s chase was making it apparent that the animal she was after was not distressed in any way, but was—rather mischievously—trying to run off with her sash clutched in its stout trunk.

“You shouldn’t let emotions cloud your perception,” Obi-Wan reminded him in a serious voice.

“Hm,” Mace conceded magnanimously, impervious to the teasing.

The twinkle of carefully contained amusement that had been present in his eyes from the start had won over all other sentiments. A wet snort had the two Masters look down at the adventurous pufferpig that had made its way over to them. The amicable beast was fixing them with soulful blue eyes, candidly inoffensive. Its stubby tail was wagging quite politely. Mace distractedly bent down to pet the expectant critter on its broad, squishy face.

“It wants to smell your lightsaber,” Obi-Wan warned. “They like crystals.”

Mace straightened and put a hand on his hilt.

“The Mining Guild didn’t pick them up yesterday?” he inquired. “That was on the agenda.”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“They tried, but for some reason all the identity chips turned out to be unreadable. There’s no way to prove who these fellows belong to.”

Mace gave him a flat look.

“Hondo stole them from a Republic transport.”

“There’s all sorts of things on Republic transports,” Obi-Wan reasonably pointed out.

“The transport was chartered by the Mining Guild.”

“Hondo wiped the manifest during his hijacking. There’s just no way to know.”

“Your Padawan was there to escort the Mining Guild representatives.”

“Some mysteries can never hope to be solved.”

The pufferpig had taken to bonking its head against their legs affectionately. Mace, bowing to the undeniable strength of Obi-Wan’s ironclad argumentation, very seriously gave the tenacious quadruped another pat.

“They’re not staying,” he reminded Obi-Wan firmly.

“Obviously not,” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “The Temple would be a terrible environment for them.”

His friend narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“And you’re not making me spend my time finding them a place.”

“Honestly, Mace.” Obi-Wan gave the affable puffer a gentle shove, and it obediently trotted away to a nearby group of younglings and clone cadets who were already entertaining one of its siblings. Obi-Wan wiped his hands on his pants. “Naboo has very responsible educational farms.”

“Does it,” Mace said mildly.

“Including a recently opened one in the Lake District.”

Unashamedly petty enjoyment rang in the Force.

“Don’t come to me when Skywalker tries to send them back.”

“Who says I’ll pick up when he does?”

Obi-Wan loved Anakin, dearly. Still, he hadn’t yet quite forgiven his old Padawan for retiring—running away—before they could make him shoulder his share of the sacred responsibility of wrangling the Temple’s significantly increased youngling population. It was Luke and Leia’s birthday soon anyway.

“You’re stooping to deviousness,” Mace said, carefully neutral.

Obi-Wan gave him a wry look.

“Never. Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he said just as calmly.

“It’s them you’re supposed to be teaching,” Mace said with a short nod towards the unruly bunch. “He’s had his turn.”

Speaking of teaching…

“Oh my,” Obi-Wan said smugly, pointing to a boy who had taken to carefully levitating a surprisingly compliant—if a little alarmed—pufferpig, “that wouldn’t happen to be Caleb, would it?”

His fellow Council member was now pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand planted on his hip.

“I must say, that young man is certainly very skilled at forming connections with animals. Depa must be very proud.”

“Just don’t,” Mace groaned. He whipped out his communicator. “He’s supposed to be meditating with Yoda right now.”

“That explains it,” Obi-Wan said.

Master Yoda was slowly ambling into the courtyard, looking quite pleased with what he was seeing. He poked misbehaving younglings with his cane as he walked, chuckling to himself when they yelped and hastily reached with the Force to make sure the pufferpigs stayed relaxed. The pufferpigs themselves were only curious, and in a sufficiently playful mood that the younglings’ offended squeaking was not enough to agitate them. Caleb had set down his floating puffer with all possible speed—and great care—at the sight of the venerable elder, and made ample and readily accepted apologies to the perplexed animal in the form of scritches.

Mace slowly put away his communicator. He pursed his lips.

“Obi-Wan,” he said slowly, “next time, just have them practice making friends with the stray tookas.”

That’s how his master had done it, and Mace had never had any problems with connecting with animals, large and small.

“Pufferpigs are much more even-tempered.”

It was all Mace could do not to facepalm. Giving up, he shot Obi-Wan one last dry look.

“Just do your damn paperwork.”

Obi-Wan watched him stride away, dignified and imposing. Of course, since he wasn’t exactly paying attention to his surroundings, with how focused he was on pretending he was above this whole situation, he didn’t notice Mari’s wayward puffer on a direct collision course with his legs. The poor creature, who hadn’t noticed Mace either, let out a terrified screech and promptly puffed.

The entire courtyard froze, watching with fascination as the inflated pufferpig bounced twice and slowly rolled to a halt. It made a sorry little squeak.

Resignedly, Mace closed his eyes and set to work on gently calming down the pufferpig with the Force.

The children loudly cheered.

#ficlet #mace windu #obi-wan kenobi #star wars #no order 66 #jedi order #jedi temple #my writing #yoda #caleb dume #katooni #loose sequel to my fic “villains and knaves”#Hondo stole the pufferpigs to sell them obi-wan confiscated them and now he’s not giving them back to the mining guild meanies

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belokhvostikova · 1 year ago

Text

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | With the seed planted, Operation Eddie Munson Must Die falls into plan, as—despite your dismay—a double date is secured with Winnie Ambrose, and Small-Town-Hottie Steve Harrington.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, tiniest mention of drugs, alcohol consumption, bits of arguing, insults, overall disrespectfulness, brief moment of a creep, mentions of past bullying, mentions of STDs, and explicit sexual content: oral (male receiving), cum eating, and protected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Apologies in advance, I found that as I wrote it just kept getting shittier, and shittier. So if it's bad, I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. Also desperately wanting to make Reader the villain, and have Eddie end up with a girlfriend... who knows :) Big thanks to these lovely anons (you, you, and you) for the plotline suggestions!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 16.2K

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

“God, I told you- I told you just how much of an asshole he was!” The front door shut with a slam, as Winnie’s handbag went flying to the couch in an adrenaline rage.

Your bottom plopped alongside the discarded purse, where you made the rash endeavor to release your ankles from the tight imprisonment of strappy heels that left your feet sore beyond repair. “C’mon, Winnie, I knew since the first time he left you crying that he was an asshole.”

With your fingers attempting to mitigate the soles of your feet, your tired eyes had a hard time keeping up with Winnie’s rampant pacing, as the concoction of a martini plus Eddie Munson had her on a buzzing thrill.

“And you!” Her finger projected to you, tight hands coming to clutch onto your shoulders. “You were incredible! Waving him off, and whatnot! Truly, if it was me, I would have been in his bed by now!” Winnie violently shook your shoulders. “God, he was so desperate, a-and crazy- god, Y/N, you made Eddie Munson crazy!”

“Oh, please, c’mon, Win, Eddie’s not stupid.” You shoved her hands off. “You even said he does this to every girl-”

“Not chase them!” Winnie urged. “For the love of God, he ran into traffic! Eddie Munson doesn’t chase, we chase- I, embarrassingly enough, chased him! That’s his whole game, but you- he went after you!”

You exhaustedly sighed, shoving your fingertips into the skin of your temple. No matter how enthusiastic Winnie’s words came out, your rationale merely vindicated his motives as nothing but self-indulgent and the furthest thing from interest. “Winnie, what kind of girl doesn’t swoon over a big, really stupid gesture? Like I said, Eddie isn’t stupid.”

With a pop, Winnie sunk to her knees, reaching eye level, as her’s unsettlingly burned into yours. “Y/N, believe me, I know Eddie more than you do,” but you knew his type more than she did, “he wanted you. Hell, he’s probably thinking about you right now!”

“Oh, fuck, baby, feels so fucking good, pussy feels so fucking good.” Eddie Munson clinched his eyes closed, as his hips punctured each thrust with a sticky slap of wet skin.

“Mm! Eddie! Please, don’t stop, ple-”

“Sh! Don’t talk, don’t fucking talk.” His voice grunted, as his heavy hand muffled Santina Rodrigo’s whines into the pillows of his bed. “Just let me fuck you- fuck this pretty pussy until you can’t speak.” The words rolled off his tongue like a studied script.

If you weren’t going to be in his bed tonight, someone else surely was.

His thrust became harsher. Bumping into the ripple of her ass, as her back curved to the gluttony of her body that just wanted more, and more. Pounding breaths were ripping through his flared nostrils, with pellets of salty sweat bleeding into his mouth, as a firm bite to his lip kept his moans at bay.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. Eddie, I’m gonna-”

“Cream on my fucking cock, show me how good I’m fucking you. Scream it, sweetheart.” His stomach cramped with each fervent squelch of his dick ramming into her cunt.

You blinked. “You really think he’s thinking about me?” A shy smile unwarrantedly invaded your face.

Winnie jumped with joy. “Yes! He totally is!” She squealed. “But don’t you dare let that get to your head.” Her hand suddenly came in contact with your forehead.

“Ow!”

“That’s like strapping steak on your chest, and going into the lion’s den. If you’re not ready to fully face the charming wrath of Eddie Munson, you need to tell me now!” Christ, that accusatory finger was degrading you again with its vicious point. “Okay, you can’t fall for his shit!”

“I- no, n-no, I’m ready, like, so, totally ready.” Your face became stern under her glare. “Yeah, um, very much ready.” Your voice quieted.

“Remember Y/N, it’s guys like Eddie that get girls to think they’re so datable.” Her eyes dragged to the back of her head. “Okay, all this ‘oh, you’re so special, I’m obsessed with you, I’d do anything for you’ is a little bullshit game that gets girls to fawn over him.” She mocked with such a guttural voice.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect! Perfect just for me! Cum, baby, cum all over my fucking cock.” Eddie’s voice cracked through gritted teeth, as his hands painfully molded to the fat of her ass, squeezing until her skin was tender.

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, I’m cumming! I’m- aughhh!” Santina mewled into the rumpled sheets that soaked with her perspiration.

Eddie didn’t give her a minute to spare, as her scalp suddenly burned with the brutal grip of her hair in his hand. Her body nearly collapsed, as she trudged through the attempt of supporting herself on trembling legs, when Eddie forced her face to his body. The stretching of rubber slapped off his cock, as he haphazardly discarded the condom onto the expanse of the bedroom floor.

“C’mon, baby, open up, lemme cum down that fucking throat.” Her head could barely confirm his request with a nod, before Eddie shoved his length down her airway, with a thick gag to harshly pair with his deep groans.

Spit slung down the curve of her chin, doubling the stains that had previously bled themselves into his dirty sheets from a week of late night endeavors catered to different women, but always ended the same.

And Santina Rodrigo was no fool, she was fully capable of grasping the reality of Eddie Munson.

Which is why this night would end differently.

“Yeah, I know, which is totally why this date isn’t happening.” You proclaimed.

But Winnie Ambrose has other plans. “Oh, no, it totally is.”

“What?” You jumped from the couch. “What happened to the, y’know, ‘Eddie wants what he can’t have,’ going on a date with him is giving him exactly what he can’t have?”

Winnie sighed, a shake of disappointment came with the sympathetic look she burdened you with. “Oh, you poor, innocent thing.” Her manicured hand patronizingly caressed your head with pets. “Y/N…” her breath deepened, “…this is all a part of the plan!” She exclaimed. “Remember, you give and you take. Leading Eddie on will only grow his feelings, but never fully giving in will leave him wanting more! This is the basic principle of dating!”

“I don’t like this kind of dating.”

“Well, it’s what’s gonna work! We have to take him down!” Her hands harshly dug into your shoulders, bulging eyes of crazy staring into your soul. “And we will not back down! Say it with me! We will not back down!”

“Our neighbors are going to think we’re crazy, Winnie.”

“C’mon!” She incited you. “We will not back down! Eddie Munson will come down!” Winnie Ambrose truly had to be drill sergeant in her past life. “We will not back down! Eddie Munson will come down-”

“-Your throat. F-Fuck, gonna cum down your throat. Just keep gaggin’ on my cock, baby.” Eddie held a tight grip to Santina’s head, her hair now in an irreparable state of dishevelment from his unyielding grip that gave him the leverage to pummel his cock down her constricting throat.

With his balls tensing under the thick globs of spit that squelched his cock towards that buzzing bliss, Eddie suffocated Santina’s nose with the curls of his pubes, as his heavy grunts announced his orgasm, with streams of salty spurts invading her mouth.

“Mm, fuck, yeah, better swallow that shit down, fuck.” He slowed his movements, until his cock pulled from between her raw lips, as her tongue lapped up the strings of saliva that clung to his dick.

And here it came. Like clockwork.

“You okay, baby?” A caressing hand; pivotal for the illusion of caring. With his thumb gently stroking the breadth of her cheek, softly swiping the remanments of a blowjob from her lips, Santina Rodrigo melted into his touch. Next, words of affirmation. “Did so good for me, baby. Fuck, that was incredible.” Eddie Munson smiled. “Was that okay for you? Not too hard? You can tell me, sweetheart, want you comfortable, beautiful.” Something to flutter the heart, every person likes being cared for. And with a tired mouth too exhausted to confirm her contentment, Eddie went in for the kill. As Santina peered up at him with the roundest eyes to appeal to him, Eddie cemented this act of love with an intimate kiss on her gleaming forehead.

It was quite profound, actually.

Something about his large build hovering over, so easily chalked up to the roughness of man actually being vulnerable enough to express affection. It would have any girl swooning.

Eddie Munson knew that, but more importantly, Santina Rodrigo knew that.

So, as his back laid against the cushion of his pillows, his fingers reached for a cigarette to ease his mind of the inevitable downpour of cries that were about to be spewed his way. But the sudden movement beside him had his eyes connecting with hers, Santina. “Listen, sweetheart-”

“I’m off work Saturday.” With his sheets covering her once exposed breasts, she sat with her head held high, eyes unfaltering.

“I-”

“I understand you put on the theatrics for your gain, but I don’t want it, unless you mean it.” Santina smiled. “Really mean it.”

Eddie’s brows cinched to the center of his forehead, where his mind blanked at the unheard of bluntness from his—what was supposed to be—one night stand. “What are you getting at here, sweetheart?”

“I want a date on Saturday.” She asserted. “C’mon, you really think I would just let you fuck me, and move one?” Eddie’s face twisted with the laughter that smacked his face. “Grow up, Eddie. This act can’t last you forever.”

His thoughts were invaded with the tumultuous mix of unwanted astonishment that—as much as it pissed him off—sparked a little curiosity in his dazed mind. A laugh scoffed past his lips. “A date? Okay.” If it meant another easy fuck, who was he to give that up over a simple date.

“And no bullshit, Eddie.” Santina affirmed. “If I’m going to be allowing you to fuck me, it’s just going to be me.”

Eddie laughed. “Hold on now, baby, this,” his finger maneuvered against the space between them, “has only been a one night thing, you can’t, um, you can’t expect me to just stick to one pretty girl, now, c’mon, sweetheart.” He proffered a sly smirk that had her rolling her eyes.

“None of which will be as good as me.” Her confident stature had Eddie sucking in breath through his teeth-bitten lips. “And you’ll realize that quite quickly, but far too late for me to ever care for. So, Eddie, I suggest you clean yourself up nicely for this date. I don’t like anything cheap.” Stunned, he watched her naked body emerge from his sheets, as she quietly gathered her clothes. Her hand found itself wrapped around Eddie’s chin, nails digging into his skin to keep him face-to-face. “If I were you, I’d reconsider this whole ‘noncommittal’ act you like to screw girls over with.” She smiled, soft breaths against his lips. “I’m different Eddie, and you’re going to respect that. Goodbye.” Santina brandished her lip gloss to his lips with a wet kiss, before her heels clicked their way out of his apartment.

Eddie Munson blinked, screwing his eyes closed, as he scoffed in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Alright, alright, we’ll take Eddie Munson down.” You shoved your hand over Winnie’s mouth to quiet her voice, only for her muffled squeals of excitement to bleed through.

“Okay, okay!” She jumped with adrenaline, a bright smile to pair. “We have to be methodical, Y/N. Simply going on the date with Eddie isn’t going to cut it. We have to make sure you’re the only one dating Eddie. He’s never gonna take this seriously, if he’s still seeing other women. We have to cut off the source.”

“The source?”

“The source that makes Eddie Munson so dateable!” She huffed so obviously. “We have to make Eddie undateable.”

“Right, make the tall guy with nice hair, who plays lead guitar of his own band, and just so happens to be known as the man who can make any girl finish undateable. Yeah, that seems totally plausible.” You deadpanned.

Winnie Ambrose sighed. “When will you learn to never underestimate me?”

Next day by brunch, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, Winnie found herself sipping on one too many mimosas, and with the boredom of her lonesome company and the once baby blue polish that was mindlessly chipped to nothing, her endeavors brought her the social setting of Marie Ann’s Nail and Spa. “He gave you what now?!” Suddenly, the nail tech was hesitant to touch Winnie’s fingers.

“Mhm.” Winnie solemnly nodded, as the other women amongst her gasped. “At first, I thought it was just regular discharge, but then it just got worse, and worse!” She dramatically exclaimed. “And then suddenly, I was in pain, it hurt to pee, and I was getting these awful fevers.” Her acting twisted the faces of the fellow patrons to concern. “So, I did what any girl would do, and I went to the doctor, and what do you know it: the clap!”

“And Eddie Munson gave it to you?” Shirley Brinkle, with her toes soaking in the warm water of her chair, massage setting on, interrogated with her manicured hand clutching her necklace.

“Yup! I mean, he was the only one I’ve ever been with.” Quite the act. “And it checks out, y’know, with all the girls he’s been with, and whatnot.” Winnie fought to hold back a smile, as the ladies around her nodded in agreement. “So, I’m warning you. Do not get with Eddie Munson. He’s, like, a total walking biohazard.”

And it had worked… for some time. With how notorious the playboy had been, word spread quickly through groups of girlfriends who once gossiped about the sheer size of his cock, now having hushed conversations to stay clear of said cock. So, that evening, when Eddie had found himself in flirtations with the lady at the gym, who just looked too good in her gymwear to pass up, his confidence faltered at her sudden departure, when her friend stared him in his eyes, and whispered to her friends. Like, so motion, Eddie heard the quiet word slip from her mouth, “gonorrhea.” Panic.

But rule number one in warfare: never underestimate your opponent.

That Monday to come, Winnie dragged herself through the streets of Indianapolis to clock in her hours at work, though when passing the empty bar that saw its busiest attendance on the particular Saturday nights Corroded Coffin would perform, her body halted. Retaking her steps back, her sunglasses raised, eyes squinting to see if she was really seeing what she was seeing.

Posted on the window, “END THE STIGMA: Let’s talk about gonorrhea.” Eddie and his stupid face plastered on a poster was enough to make Winnie scoff. “Saturday night STD fundraiser! Live show included, here at The Albatross!”

“That conniving, little bitch!” And, of course…

“While an advocate, I, Eddie Munson, do not have gonorrhea or any sexually transmitted diseases.”

And just to rub some salt into the wound, “So sweet, isn’t he?” A stranger—a pretty one at it, too—voiced her admiration to Winnie, as they gazed upon the poster. “He’s, like, the only guy I know who would care about a cause.”

Damn it, the bar was in hell.

But while Eddie Munson may have gotten the upper hand in this round, he and his confidence in his system of juggling girls could not anticipate the events of Black Tuesday.

On Tuesdays like such, customers found little time to meander in the relaxation of the coffeehouse, as midweek work obligations called for the swift in-and-out transaction.

You quite like Tuesdays like such.

When little visitors frequented, your boss would tune up the small radio that allowed soft music to linger about, where it once would be drowned under the cacophony of shouting patrons, who took to vividly expressing their lives in conversations.

Spurt. Spurt. You hummed to the voice of Billy Joel, as the fragranced cleaner invaded your noise with lemony pinewood, providing that sleek gloss to the wooden table tops, as your damp rag smeared across the perimeter. Too ingrained with mimicking the tunes of “Vienna,” you hadn’t paid much mind to the chime of the door bell, simply throwing out the usual, “I’ll be with you in a minute,” as you continued the task of swiping away leftover crumbs of pastries that accompanied the light splatters of spilled coffee.

But turning on your feet to reach the register fell short, when you were suddenly face-to-face with Eddie Munson. “You’re quite hard to get a hold of… Y/N.” Ever so slightly, the sardonic tone of his voice curled his lips upward.

With a lump caught in your throat, you made the rash decision to merely walk away to the counter, screwing your eyes shut at the sound of following footsteps that stomped behind you. You cleared your throat. “What can I get you?”

“A date.” He nonchalantly nodded. “As you agreed.”

“Uh, no, I di-”

“Y’know, after asking you out, I came by Sunday to make plans for our date.” He interjected, as your eyebrows shot into the creases of your forehead.

“Didn’t work Sunday.” You blunted provided.

Eddie hissed, shaking his head. “Yeah, much to my disappointment.” His hand came up scratching the shavened skin of his cheek. “Though, also kinda lucky.” He laughed off, leaning in close. “Had some mess to deal with, all fixed now, so if you hear otherwise, it’s a lie.”

Oh, Winnie.

You suppressed the bulging of your eyes, and waved off his attempt at a conversation. “What do you want, Eddie?”

“I already told you: my date.”

“Can’t. Busy.” You turned your back to wipe off the counters that you had already cleaned before his arrival, though luckily, he didn’t know that.

“Alright, so I’ll accommodate. When do you get off?” With his forearms against the counter, his biceps bulged against his constricting arm sleeves, and maybe, just maybe, Eddie tensed his arms to let those veins pop, as you faced him again.

Annoyance was beginning to bubble in your chest. With what few customers did visit, all seemed to have a stick up their ass with their disrespectful attitude towards you, and you weren’t exactly keen to play into Eddie’s games. “Look, you forcing me to say yes to date, because you did something absolutely stupid is not me actually wanting you, okay? So, unless you’re going to order something, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Eddie propped to his extended height. “Hey, alright, look, you’re right, I’m sorry.” His ringed hands landed on his chest. “That was real stupid of me, but I meant what I said Saturday, I do have this funny, little feeling that you’re special, so can you really blame a guy?” You wanted to slap that smile off his face. You probably wouldn’t even be able to count how many times that one liner was used on other women, and your face showed it with the scowl that took over. “Alright, so you can blame me.” He laughed.

“Get out.”

“Hey, no, I’d like a latte, please. My usual, c’mon, Y/N, you know my usual.” Ugh, you did know his usual.

“It’ll be $5.”

A scoff chuckled out from his mouth. “What? It’s usually $3.10.”

“Not today.”

Eddie laughed in disbelief, as he reached for his wallet, slapping two $5 bills onto the counter, and sliding them over. “The extra five is for you, feeling generous.” He cockily shrugged. Degrading and patronizing? To hell with it, you were a service worker, of course, you took the tip. You once again turned, given another distraction of actually concocting his order to find reason not to entertain him. “Think the universe is in my favor, no? Came in Sunday, you weren’t here. Came in Monday… you weren’t here. Why was that anyway?”

“Had class. Got the night shift.”

“Ah, so you go to university. See, look at us, we could be getting to know each other just like this, but on a date.” You despised the soft laughter that echoed through your nose, something Eddie surely had picked up on with the large smile that took over his face. “But then y’know what? Came in on this fine Tuesday, and what d'ya know? Third times a charm, here you are.”

“Unfortunately.”

Eddie laughed. “Oh, you’re funny.” Oh, Christ, you were smiling. Thank god your back was turned. “You like the movies, got a favorite film.”

“Hate them, actually.”

“Alright, well, what about dinner?” Eddie proffered. “Got a nice restaurant in mind, could order you some nice steak, ooh, the lobster is always incredible.

“Don’t eat meat. It’s disgusting.” You lied.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Y/N, sweetheart, you gotta work with me here.”

“I quite literally don’t.” You slid over the plastic cup of coffee. Winnie would be so proud of you.

“Ooh,” he hissed, “I actually wanted this for here.” Eddie matched your movement, sliding back the latte, as his eyes never left yours.

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders to match his considerably cool apathy, when in reality you were ready to hurl your guts over the mortifying experience of having to talk to a guy like him. “Well, you should have specified that. Too late now.” You shoved the cup back.

Eddie smiled that sickly grin, leaning in close enough to have you cowering below him. But your eyes stayed staunch to the confidence you were trying to exude, never forfeiting the staring contest he forced you into. “C’mon, just tell me what I gotta do to get you on a little date with me. What’s it gonna take?” His head tilted with that devious smirk.

“Well, maybe…” you sincerely sighed, “...if you would just leave.” You round eyes peered up at him.

A guttural laugh bubbled in his chest, as he blushed down with a suppressed smile. “I’m being serious.”

“And who says I’m not?” You smiled back.

“Alright, look, it’ll all be on your terms. Your wish is my command. Anything you want.” Eddie laid his cards out flat on the table.

You swallowed thickly, regulating yourself through the heavy breathing of a long sigh that escaped from you. Realistically, being one-on-one with someone like Eddie was a set up for disaster. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you’d only survive this far with the words of Winnie Ambrose playing into your ear, coaching you through the complexity that is Eddie Munson. You give and you take, and so far, the easiest thing was taking away, and even that had your stomach twisting with the gruesomeness of anxiety that left your mind on overdrive with intrusive thoughts.

What did Eddie Munson think of you? How much of an embarrassment would you make out of yourself suddenly falling into his trap? No, you were better than that. This wasn’t going to be another Dalton Barron moment- ugh, Christ, you don’t even want to think about him. Okay, so you learned from your mistake, it won’t happen again, just don’t trust Eddie Munson. Yeah, don’t trust Eddie Munson. Surely, anyone would agree with you on that one. But what if not trusting him puts him off? What if that’s what drives him away, and Winnie’s plan ultimately fails, because of yo-

“C’mon, Y/N, I think you’re gettin’ a little too into your head here.” He swayed in his stance. Your face frowned, clearly not appreciative of how easily he read that.

“I don’t- I just don’t want to go on a date with you.” You softly answered, watching his head drop in defeat. “At least, not alone.” He slowly peered back up in interest.

Eddie nodded to your suggestion. Was it ideal? Definitely not, it’d be quite difficult making the moves on you with people around. But if it meant getting you out with him… “I got a friend.” His fingers snapped at the sudden revelation that hit him.

“A friend?”

“Yup.” His lips popped with emphasis. “Pretty good looking guy, y’know, nice hair n’ all. Family’s loaded, too, he’s working at the law firm his dad owns back in my hometown.”

“You’re not from here?” You questioned.

Eddie smiled. “See, you’re totally interested in gettin’ to know me.” He teased an eye roll out of you. “But, no, to answer your question, I’m not. Hawkins, in fact. Pretty small town about forty minutes out north west from Indy. A little shitty- well, actually, a lot shitty,” Eddie chuckled, “but it’s quiet at night, which I’ve always liked. So, if it’ll make you a bit more comfortable,” he leaned over, “why don’t you and that roommate of yours come out to Hawkins to hang out with me and my buddy.”

Your eyes softened at the request, as your heartbeat slowly dissipated to the calm rhythm it once was pumping at, before Eddie ruined that for you. “You- you’d be okay with Winnie coming?”

“No.” He laughed. “In fact, I think bringing an old hookup—who just so happens to hate my guts—to a double date sounds absolutely miserable, but I’m willing to be miserable if it means getting to be with you.” No salacious smirk this time, spoken matter-a-factly even, which somehow felt more unsettling. “Hopefully Steve can entertain your friend enough for me.” Eddie shrugged.

“Steve?”

“Harrington.” He finished off for you. “Quite the ladies man, in fact, so I’m sure he’ll have no problem agreeing to this.” Then, Eddie whispered close. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t steal you off of me.” He winked, before grabbing his drink to take a couple steps back. “You get off by, I don’t know, five?” You couldn’t even fathom words at the moment, only meeting him with a small nod that mindlessly controlled itself. “Perfect, then let’s say about eight. Real casual, nothing too crazy. The Hideout, it’s a little bar. In Hawkins. My treat.” He smiled. “Have a nice day… Y/N.”

Eddie Munson had become quite obsessed with saying your name.

“Steve Harrington? Sounds like some boy-next-door sitcom name.” Winnie laughed, as her mouth crunched down on the handful of chips that stuffed themselves down her mouth.

“Eddie said he was really good looking, though.” You sat by her propped feet on the coffee table. “And- and, he’s in the whole lawyer business thing.” You offered.

“He’s a lawyer?” Winnie’s interest piqued at the sudden monetary value of Steve Harrington.

“Well, Eddie said he worked at a law firm, not entirely sure what he does, but you could totally find out if you go, please, pretty please.” You begged. “Don’t let me go by myself, you know I won’t be able to handle it, I’ll probably panic and say something stupid, and this whole plan will come crashing-”

“Okay, okay.” Winnie gave in, folding over the plastic of her chip bag, as she rid herself the crumbs that stuck around her mouth. “You know what? You’re right, we have to get this date going.” She urgently stood. “We have to go all out. What are we thinking? Skirt? Maybe a dress? Ooh, I’ve been meaning to bust out my new Vivienne Westwoods-”

“Wait, no, Eddie said this was supposed to be casual.” You stopped her. “Just some bar, I think by the sounds of it, in his hometown.”

“Eddie’s bringing you to his hometown?!” Winnie halted, face contorting into the dozen creases of dumbfoundedness. “What the hell?! The first time I got with him, I asked for his last name, and he told me not to push it. Had to hear it from some other girl he was screwing. Holy shit, Eddie Munson’s whipped for you!”

“What? N-No, he’s not.” You tried appeasing her shock. “It’s just like a convenience thing, y’know? For his friend, I assume.”

Winnie laughed in disbelief, shaking her head to dispute your claims. “Oh, this plan is so going to work!” She cheered. “C’mon, we have a first date to ruin!”

By 5:45 P.M, your bathroom steamed with the hotness of condensation, as the aromas of scented body washes and lotions clung to your body. Unlike the preparations of Saturday night, ‘dressing casually’ proved difficult for Winnie, who opted to rummage through your closet. “Ugh, don’t you have anything lacey?”

“Is lacey really casual?” You wondered, as you hopped into your shorts with a shimmy to get them from around your ass.

“It is to me.” Winnie whined, flinging articles of clothing you knew she’d never clean up.

“What about my maxi skirt right there?” You proffered.

Winnie examined the layered sheer material. It was a sage green. She quite liked green with her auburn hair. “It’s not too hot for this?” She hesitantly questioned.

“Totally not! Enough flow for some airway.” You sold. “Plus, pretty easy to slip off for Mr. Lawyer.” You teased, at least something funny enough to get her to smile.

“Oh, I shouldn’t- well…” You laughed at her contemplation, as you both fell comfortably in the pile of clothes in your disorganized bedroom. “Maybe if he’s, like, really hot. Like, River Phoenix hot. Ooh, that means I should definitely wear my push-up bra, wherever the hell it went.” You dug for a thin sweater to throw on. “No, but wait, would that make a slut?” You laughed at her question. “Like, royal slut for sleeping with two friends?

“Who cares, Win. Have your fun.” You offered in return, watching her shoulders relax. “Eddie’s doing it, anyway. Why can’t you?”

Winnie gasped. “You would sleep with Eddie Munson?!”

Your mouth fell open. “W-What? No, I didn’t say that, like, a-at all. I just- I meant dating.”

“Okay, but would you?” Winnie teased, poking at your belly to rile you up.

Your mind blanked, mouth falling dry through your stutters. “N-No, I don’t even like him like that. You- it’s you making me do this, remember?” You defended. “I wouldn’t have even talked to him if it wasn’t for this idea.” It’d be best if Winnie Ambrose never learned the identity of your mysterious coffeehouse crush that was discovered to be Eddie Munson. Even then, all those barely there, absolutely not deep, totally juvenile feelings vanished when learned that not only had he been sleeping with your best friend, but apparently all of Indianapolis.

“Well,” Winnie sighed, trusting your word, “you’re stronger than most. Which honestly, is the only thing keeping this plan working, because let’s be honest here, Eddie is going to try to sleep with you sooner or later.” Your stomach churned. “But, remember we can’t let that happen. Best way to go about it is to be, y’know, calm and collected. Brush him off effortlessly.”

“Okay, calm and collected. Like I don’t care. Just be indifferent.” You detail your understanding.

“Exactly, but don’t totally wave him off! The only thing reeling him in is your slight interest.” You felt like your head was about to explode. “So, just take notes and remember to be caring and passionate. He’s gotta know you’re feeling something, y’know?” No, you don’t know. “But then,” oh, Christ, “you gotta learn when to hit back, okay? Eddie’s an asshole. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that. And that filthy mouth of his is bound to say something gross to get a reaction out of you. So, stand your ground, be proud and aggressive. He’ll easily walk all over you if you’re meek.”

“Okay, well, I rejected him, now I’m going on a date with him, so he thinks I’m “interested,” I just don’t know what to do next.” You frowned in frustration. “This is all a lot, y’know?”

“C’mon, you’ve dated before-”

“Yeah. Though, it was only one, singular, y’know… Dalton.” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eye sockets to suppress the memories that were trying to hash out that anger for the closure you never got.

“Exactly!” Winnie snapped with emphasis. “You’ve been down this road before, you know what to expect. And people like Eddie and Dalton need to pay up for what they’ve done! So, don’t strike yourself out, we are women! We are feminists! This is for feminism!”

You huffed out a sardonic chuckle. “I don’t think that’s what feminism means, Winnie.”

“Okay, well, we’re both young women, who are hot as shit, and are not going to let some gross dudes ruin us!” She declared. “So, when you go on this date, you play it aloof. Don’t give him everything, but give him enough.”

“Like what?”

“Like, if he compliments you, don’t shy away, you take it!” She explained. “Oh, and the three seconds rule! You wait three seconds to answer him when you’re talking.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little redundant?” You brows cinched in question.

“No, it totally works for me!” She protested.

“Winnie,” you sympathetically sighed, “you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Ugh, look, if I wanted to keep them around, I would, because that three seconds rule works! Makes me look cool, Y/N.” Winnie sassed in protest. Before you could retaliate a teasing comment to her skewed views of dating, a knock at the front door had cut your conversation short. “I’ll get it.” Winnie huffed, throwing your maxi skirt in the mountaining pile of clothes, before heading out. While you could, your shirt had shimmied itself off your body to find comfort in a sweater that would suffice for the whole ‘I don’t care’ look you hoped to exude with this forced upon date. Suddenly, Winnie’s feet could be heard shuffling as quickly as possible back to your room. “Fucking flowers?!”

“What?” You questioned, as you fixed your hair from the mess that de-clothing caused.

In the crinkle of brown tissue paper and twine, a dozen stems of pastel tulips stood lively in Winnie’s hands. “He went full Netherlands on you!”

“Eddie?!” Your brows jumped in perplexion.

Winnie scoffed in disbelief. “Who else would be E. Munson?!” She pulled out the small envelope that propped itself within the tangle of flowers. You stood from the floor, grabbing the pretty bouquet, as Winnie shuffled to slide the card from the paper encasing. “Ugh, ugh,” she cleared her throat. “To ease your mind, something as pretty as you, Y/N. Let me do things properly, give me a call to pick you up: three, one, seven, blah, blah, blah. Gag.” Winnie rolled her eyes. “Sending you flowers, while taking you to some dingy bar, how chivalrous.”

“W-Wait a minute,” you snatched the card from her hand, “what? Am I supposed to ride with him now?” Your finger skimmed over the felt-tip pen that bled Eddie’s number to the cardstock of the note.

“No.” Winnie snatched the card, ripping it in half.

“Uh- Winnie! This was actually a little sweet, c’mon.”

“Remember, we’re playing this cool!” She urged. “You already agreed to this date, you can’t feed him more. You’re not accepting any of this- well, keep the flowers, they’d look quite nice on our mantel. But don’t call him, okay? We can drive ourselves. And, like, what the hell? Did he just expect me to tow behind? He, like, totally didn’t think of me at all.” Your brow slowly lifted at her. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up about myself.”

Through the static voices of Skid Row over the radio, you turned about the creased map every which way, trying to read the barely eligible highways with their too tiny of a font names. “Oh, okay, it’s Exit 13A.”

“How far away is it?” Winnie held the steering wheel under a tight grip.

“Um,” you peered up. “it’s right there! Winnie, right lane! Go to the-”

“I’m trying! This slow bastard isn’t moving!” She screamed.

You reached over the console. “Your blinkers!” A quick flip to the handle clicked on the indicators. “They won’t know unless your blinkers are on!”

Meanwhile, Eddie’s foot had anxiously tapped to the ticks of the clock, as his thumb nail was facing the repercussion of his nervous gnawing.

Where the hell were you? It was nearing a quarter to eight, and your expected phone call hadn’t come by. No bounce of his knee, no hand through his hair, no pacing around could ease the nerves that pissed him off, because he so ardently waited for your call. He stood from his couch, quickly making his way to the phone, but no matter how desperate that itch was telling him to call instead, it all fell into a lost cause, as Eddie didn’t know your number. Eddie didn't know Winnie’s number. Hell, Eddie didn’t know any woman’s number. They called. Not him. Never him. Well, he could go over to your apartment- no, that was on another level of desperation that Eddie felt was too pathetic to ever let his pride commit to.

“Augh,” he groaned in annoyance, as those anxious nerves were beginning to be taken over by anger. “What a bitc- mm.” He restrained himself with a gruff. “What am I- what am I doing waiting around? Fuck this, I’ll get someone else.” Eddie raged under his breath, as he snatched his jacket, and stomped his way out of the apartment.

Your eyes followed along the passing trees, as the prussian blue of nighttime was beginning to feed into the amber glow of the leaving sunset. Hawkins had been nothing but a straight highway of nonbeing, as Eddie’s words came into existence: it was quiet at night. Rocks skipped under the fast turning wheels of the car, as you approached the faded sign welcoming you into the solitude of Hawkins, Indiana. When rows of woodlands finally ended, you were met with the expanse of cornfields.

“So…” Winnie dragged out. “How exactly are we supposed to find this bar?” She questioned, as her eyes fell on the long road ahead. “Maybe we should have taken up Eddie’s offer.” You shot her a look of disbelief. “Okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding, but seriously.”

“Eddie said it was a small town, so I’m sure it won’t take too long. Just look out for bar, preferably with any sign at says ‘The Hideout.’”

“The Hideout… The Hideout.” She ticked, as she drove wherever the roads guided her.

Through the unintentional exploration of the suburbs and downtown areas, your destination was found through the environs north front of abandoned diners, lonesome laundromats, and a dilapidated trailer park where rusted car parts littered the dead grass against man made driveways.

The neon sign buzzed through its draining power. “Some first date.” Winnie groaned, taking in the foundation of stained bricks.

You shrugged with the bit of optimism you were clawing to hold on to. “M-Maybe it’s quaint.”

“Yeah, for a bunch of hillbilly, old dudes with beer bellies.” She grouched, as her legs dragged her out of the car. You swiftly followed, choosing to subtly cower behind her, as you both loitered the makeshift parking lot of what was just tire tracks and haphazard parking. “These guys better be here already.” Winnie rolled her eyes. Nothing but the running engine of a burgundy Bimmer buzzed through the chilled atmosphere.

And it hadn’t been until the engine was keyed off, with a figure slamming the door shut, that it finally caught your attention. “Hey, hey, wait, you think that’s Steve?” Your hand repeatedly smacked against Winnie’s arms.

Winnie squinted her eyes through the dark. Well, he did have the hair. Great hair, in fact. Totally walked like he could be some wannabe lawyer, especially with the white button-up he adorned; too fancy for a place like such. Could definitely see him being casted as the boy-next-door. And woah, was he pretty. Like, ridiculously pretty. “It better be Steve, fuck me.” Her glossed lips fell open.

“O-Okay, so, we just, like, ask him-”

“Ayo, Steve!” Winnie’s deepened voice boomed to the likeness of a man, before harshly turning around to avoid being caught.

“Oh, my god.” You quietly sighed to yourself in embarrassment, as Winnie’s efforts clearly fell short of subtlety, and the now identified Steve Harrington was looking right over.

Winnie stood stiff, as if to appear invisible. “Well, did he look up?”

“Yes, he looked up.” You deadpanned. “And right at us, in fact, because that was awful.” An incredulous chuckle scoffed out of you.

“Aw, great, he probably thinks I sound like a chain smoker now.” She groaned, as you both awkwardly shuffled to his direction.

He proffered such a boyish smile with a small wave to greet you both, before his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucking under his armpits. “Hey, uh, sorry, this is a bit confusing, you’re here to hang out with Ed and I?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” You softly answered. “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself.

Steve flashed you a warm smile, before pointing a curious finger beside you. “Ah, so you’re mine tonight?” He asked for clarification to Winnie, who blushed under his suaveness.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be yours any night.” She mindlessly responded, luckily rifting that first-meet-up awkward tension that now dissipated into sincere laughter.

“Alright then,” Steve’s cheeks plumped under his growing smile. “Wendy, right?”

Winnie rolled her eyes. “That bastard, it’s Winnie.” She beamed.

“Winnie, got it, I apologize.” Steve offered, as she shyly waved him off, truly enamored through her school girl-like crush. “Well, uh, like I was saying, I am a bit confused, ‘cause Eddie had kinda told me you guys bailed on us.”

“What?” You mused over his words in confusion.

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not sure, something about you not calling, or just basically canceling, I guess.” You and Winnie slowly looked at one another. “I don’t know, he called me before I clocked off work, but after a shift with my dad,” an airy laugh breathed out of him, “figured I could still go for a drink. So, sorry if I’m a little overdressed.” His hands panned over his suited body. “Yeah, so, I’m assuming some lines of communication got lost. You guys definitely didn’t cancel, right?”

“No, we were trying to be feminists.” You sarcastically lilted.

“Right, right.” Steve laughed along. “Well, uh, since this double date is definitely not canceled, why don’t we all head inside? I’ll call up Eddie, see if he picks up, and if not… well, I surely don’t mind taking out two pretty girls, so my treat.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely keeping him.” Winnie whispered into your ear.

Where mandatory I.D checks made up The Albatross, it surely lacked at The Hideout, as nothing but spotted glass door—dirtied by a litter of sticky fingerprints—had fallen easily open to welcome any patron who chose to drown their stress with a bitter bottle of beer. Whatever Top 100 Hits Winnie had been used to listening to during her bar endeavors had been switched to bare the brunt of country rock, as older men and women spaced themselves accordingly, rather than the practical dry humping The Albatross was regularly accustomed to.

Steve Harrington, the soon to be discovered paralegal, had situated you both to a lonesome table surrounded by four stools, where you received the chance to gaze about the rustic decor of American flags and sports jerseys that complimented the dusty deer head that hung against the dark wood. “Hey, so, you guys have any drink preferences?” His head gestured to the bar.

“Two beers will be fine.” Winnie’s chipper voice answered, as you nodded in agreement.

“Perfect, I’ll head up to get our drinks, and see if I can give Eddie a call.” Winnie froze under his innocent hand that landed on her shoulder, before Steve sauntered off.

“Oh, Christ, I’m gonna marry him.” Winnie groaned into her hands.

You giggled at her unease. “It’s barely been five minutes.”

“But it’s been a good five minutes.” She protested in defense.

“Okay, so, um, while you get to enjoy your time with Steve, I mean, what should I do about Eddie?” You talked in hushed whispers, as subtle glances to the bar showed Steve in casual conversation with the bartender. “Like, what if he does come, y’know, he’s gonna be pissed? O-Or, uh, if he doesn’t show, does that mean he’s no longer interested?”

“Okay, shh.” Winnie interrupted your panicked speech. “Look, alright, we kinda did screw over Eddie, but, I mean, who were we to know he thought that was us canceling. If anything, we deserve the right to piss him off, especially me.” She scoffed. “That ‘Wendy’ bullcrap. What, do I look like some freckled, red-head child with braids slapped on some burger wrapper?”

You peered back at the revelation. “Oh, my god, wait, with your hair, you do kinda look like-”

“Shh, lalala, I’m hearing it, that wasn’t the point!” You wiped off the spit that flung from her harsh whispers. “Circling back,” her lips emphasized, “Eddie’s going to come, okay? He’s like every other dude, alright, they can’t take rejection, always have to bother you as to why you don’t want them. So, he’s going to come, and when he does, you have to stand your ground. Alright, no apologizing, no feeling bad, no ‘oh, let me make it up to you.’” She mocked her damsel-in-distress voice. “You better give him the cold shoulder. Anger is still very much an emotion, and if he’s angry that means he cares. It means he has feelings, feelings which you hurt! Like. A. Bad. Ass.”

You chuckled incredulously. “Don’t really think being mean makes me a badass-”

“It does in the case of Eddie Munson, alright?” Winnie cemented. “Clearly, people haven’t been mean enough to him.”

Steve Harrington had given Roger, the bartender, the grace to prioritize the other patrons on their refills, after opening his tab to the orders of you, Winnie, and him—alongside an additional order of generic greasy food—as a phone call to Eddie Munson was surely to last a bit more than a quick ‘hello.’ After gaining permission to use the establishment’s phone, Steve had propped himself against the wall of the back storage room, with the ringing, red phone against his ear.

Perhaps Eddie Munson was trying to overcompensate for the bruised ego caused by your rejection, as he resulted in swallowing the mouth of Jenny Albridge in the center of his living room couch. And I mean really swallowing. Their lips smacked hungrily with too much saliva, forcing Eddie to endure it if it mean fucking his frustrations out.

And poor Jenny, while she’s heard of the eighth wonder Eddie had added to the world from underneath his pants, she hadn’t actually been with him. It just so happened to be faith that their shoulders collided, while she left her evening pilates class. And hell, after an intense, sweaty workout, she wanted another—albeit slightly different—intense, sweaty workout, especially after the numerous five star ratings.

Though, maybe she’d just caught him on a bad day. Like, a really, really bad day. But maybe she was supposed to like it? The whole aggressive, teeth clashing, tongue invading, spit drenching make out that would hopefully finally lead to the good part. There was going to be a good part, right?

Ring, ring, ring, ring…

Oh, thank god, Eddie thought, as he finally had an excuse to detach from her lips, giving Jenny the go ahead to catch her breath with a deep gasp of air. He shifted quickly from the couch, walking to the phone, pulling it abruptly to stop the incessant shrilling. “Hello?”

“Ed, man.” Steve stood straight. “Hope you know the girls are here.” He snickered into the phone.

“Girls?” Eddie wiped the spit from his lips. “What gi-” The revelation backhanded him in the face, as his mouth stooped low with confusion. “What? No, they canceled!”

“I think that’s what they had you thinking, but really they just drove themselves. And now, I’ve just ordered them beers and some food, so unless you’re giving me the grace to talk up your girl and her friend, I’d suggest you come down here as quick as possible.” Steve laughed.

While he may have lived a couple towns over from the big city, Steve Harrington was no stranger to the name Eddie had given himself in Indianapolis, as periodic visits would consist of his friend recounting the newfound experience he gained with women, to eventually being one another’s wingman.

In fact, Steve regularly joked about Eddie ‘decrowning’ him as king, as he now flaunted the hookup culture he, so very actively, participated in, thanks to the “bell bottom hippies, who were so desperately horny, they made it a movement.” His words, definitely not any history books’ words.

“They’re fucking there?! Are you- ugh!” His fingers shoved into his eyes in frustration. “I fucking sent her flowers with the number, and everyth-”

“Woah, you sent her flowers?” Steve interrupted with shock. “Since when do you ever send flowers?”

“I don’t know! This girl is pissing me off, I- I’ll be there, alright!” Jenny Albridge scrunched her face in heavy judgment. “J-Just make sure she doesn’t- I mean, them. Make sure they don't leave!”

Steve chuckled at the stutter of his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep them entertained.” He laughed.

Eddie scoffed. “I’m serious, Harrington, no funny business! She already thinks I’m some asshole, and her friend is probably feeding her some more bullshit about how terrible I am.”

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, as he recalled the panicked phone call that transpired a couple hours prior, with Eddie imploring him to agree to a blind double date. Something about fucking some girl, but now wanting said girl’s friend, but said girl’s friend doesn’t want him, because said girl told her friend about him fucking other girls. Whatever it was, it was a big, jumbled mess, and Steve wondered why Eddie ever involved himself in the first place. Though, apparently, it was important enough if Eddie had to send you flowers. “Well, you did kinda screw over Winnie-”

“Okay, that's not the point!” Eddie spat out in a rush. Maybe it was how alike Winnie Ambrose and Eddie Munson had been that repelled them so harshly from one another. Jenny Albridge was quietly shuffling on her shoes. “Look, I-” He took a deep breath, regulating himself. “I’ll be there. While I’m not going to force you to do anything, it would be greatly appreciated if you helped a friend out, and talked me up.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve agreed. “Just hurry up, I highly doubt you cruising around is gonna better any impression this girl’s already got for you.” With that, Steve cut off any response Eddie had prepared with the buzzing of a dead line, as he hung up the phone.

Eddie sighed, running his hand through his hair. Turning around, he flinched at the sight of an awkwardly smiling Jenny, as he’d genuinely forgotten about her presence amidst the phone call. Both blinked back-in-forth to one another; a mutual consensus silently understood.

“Yeah, you need to leave.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

A basket of chicken tenders and fries had interrupted your conversation short, as they were placed against the table, with Steve arriving with his hand clinging to the necks of three beer bottles, each tucked between the space of his fingers. “Sorry, I know it’s not Michelin Star-esque, but it’s the best this bar’s got, so hopefully it’s enough to satiate any hunger.” He smiled. Steve was hit with an influx of ‘thank you’s’ from the both of you, as the stationary centerpiece of condiments were beginning to fill up the tiny containers that came with the meal. “Oh, and Ed’s on his way, as well.”

“He’s coming?” You questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, told him to come as quick as possible.” Steve answered, as he took his seat next to Winnie.

Winnie squirted an aggressive amount of ketchup onto her tray, leaving Steve to smile at her antics. “Wait, did he sound mad over the phone?”

“Uh, I mean, he was a little worked up, y’know, in his usual dramatic self.” His answer came with the hesitation of wondering how to play the best wingman to people who clearly hadn’t established the best opinion of him. “But, he’s coming, dropped everything and is on his way.”

“See, I told you.” Winnie nudged your shoulder.

Steve popped a ranch covered fry into his mouth. “Told her what?”

“That Eddie being angry means he’s totally into her.” Winnie proudly beamed.

He laughed. “Oh, yeah, I heard about the whole flowers thing.”

You fervently shook your head. “I’m not exactly trusting anything Eddie does to be in good faith.” You proffered a delicate smile. “I mean, I know what he’s like, so not really trusting him to be this great person.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, then, can I ask why you agreed to date him? Like, especially after what he did to you.”

Both you and Winnie took a second to stare at one another, before she leaned in close. “I know he’s your friend, but you promise not to say anything? Y’know, to him?” Now piqued with interest, Steve stood straight, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” Winnie sighed, “we’re basically trying to take him down.”

Steve laughed, quite amused, and very happy with accepting the request to go on this blind double date. “Wow, okay. A feminist thing?” He chuckled, “How’s that going?”

“Well, we’re only in the beginning stages, but it’s working great so far!” Winnie gloated. “I mean, he was literally begging her to go out on this date! I am a genius!”

“So, then what’s the follow up?”

“Well, I’m sure you know how Eddie is.” Steve confirmed it with a shake of his head. “We are just trying to make him feel how we, as women who have fallen victim to him, feel.” Winnie held her head high. “So, if all things run smoothly, then hopefully he’ll learn to not be such a douchebag.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “I mean, he’s a good guy.” Winnie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Well, at least, he used to be.” He clarified. “I think moving to the city was very much a way of letting go of his old life here, which, y’know, I’m proud of, though, I’m sure he’s probably not making the best decisions most of the time.”

“What was he letting go of?” You curiously asked, leaning against the table.

“Well, Eddie hasn’t always exactly been a ladies man.” He breathily chuckled. “Uh, in fact, probably not the most liked guy in town. By girls, or people in general. Just unfortunately got tied to a bad reputation, because of how close-minded Hawkins can be. Y’know, the whole metalhead gig isn’t exactly what the church goers of our town prefer.”

Concern etched across your face. “It got that bad that he wanted to leave?”

Steve nodded. “I mean, people are assholes, gave him grief just to take the piss out of him. I know he didn’t exactly want to leave- or, actually, leave the people in his life behind. He’s got an uncle over here, me and our other friends, his old band members, his little DnD club.” Eddie Munson, the cocky lead singer, played Dungeons and Dragons? You softly laughed, truly believing Eddie was an enigma; such juxtaposition within himself. “But, y’know, he had to do what he had to do. For himself.”

“And now he really does just do everything for himself.” Winnie playfully scoffed.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll have a change of heart if he continues “seeing” you.” Steve smiled. “I mean, think the last I ever heard of Eddie giving anyone flowers was for this cheerleader he had some crush on, before her boyfriend got wind of it. It turned into this big blow out, Eddie, of course, had already gotten into his fair share of fights before, so pretty easy to say this kid got beat up, until his basketball buddies joined in. That only worsened his image, and pretty much humiliated him, so…”

“Yeah, no wonder he turned into such an asshole.” Winnie inferred, as a deep pit of sorrow buried in your belly for Eddie. Something you severely tried to ignore, given his background had garnered no justification for his current actions.

“But maybe he’ll turn a new leaf.” His friend felt optimistic. Or, at least, hoped. “He still working down at that tattoo parlor, right?”

Was he? Despite how much Winnie fed you, you actually knew nothing of him. “Probably.” Winnie’s face stuffed with the crunch of a juicy tender. “What about you, though? Eddie mentioned something about a lawyer?” She sweetly smiled.

Christ. Perhaps bailing on Eddie’s chauffeuring offer only forced you to become a third wheel for the time being. “Oh, definitely not a lawyer, just a paralegal for my dad who is one.”

“Still impressive, though.” She batted her lashes. “I’m sure you’re great at it.” Truthfully, Winnie Ambrose had no clue as to what a paralegal was, but if it made him flash his smile, then she’d gladly continue.

“What about you two? You guys work?”

“Yeah, just as a barista, while I finish up college.” You concisely answered.

“Oh, and I finished cosmetology school not too long ago, started working as a hairstylist, so I could totally do your hair, which by the way, you have great hair.” Her fingers delicately played with the few strands that framed his head.

You hadn’t seen yourself suddenly wishing for Eddie Munson to appear sooner. It was on the sixth chicken tender that you were beginning to lose patience. While Steve Harrington had been the farthest from rude and included you in conversation, you weren’t socially inept to understand that his preferences laid in speaking with the girl he blindly agreed to date. But on the upside, you’d been surprised as to how entertaining it was to dip from between ketchup and ranch to please your taste buds. And washing it down with a cool beer? Surely, this was heaven-

“What happened to you not eating meat?” You felt his hot breath against your ear.

Your nose nearly bumped his, as your head spun to meet his squinted eyes that scrutinized you through his glare. You had no other choice than to smile, and pop the last bit of the chicken tender into your mouth with a glorious crunch and moan that pissed him off with a smile searing onto his face.

“Hey, man, you made it.” Steve Harrington had brandished Eddie Munson’s hand with the typical boyish handshake, before Eddie’s jacket met the table, and he took his seat next to you.

Eddie incredulously chuckled. “Well, y’know, would’ve come sooner, but…” his glare twisted to you, “...apparently reading is a little hard to comprehend for some.”

Gobsmacked, you were ready to smack that smirk off his face, but Winnie had chimed in. “Actually, we did read it, we just didn’t care.” She placed a fry into her mouth.

“‘We?’” Eddie laughed. “C’mon, Wendy, don’t you know by now no guy would ever give you flowers? That note was for Y/N.” Eddie hadn’t even cared to notice the look of offense that stunned her face, only focusing on whispering into your ear. “And I thought I told you by now to have a mind of your own?”

Your stomach became agitated by his words, and suddenly those six chicken tenders and fries felt like a bad idea. “God, you see how much of an asshole your friend is?” Winnie’s voice felt so distant in your hazed mind.

“Hey, Ed, c’mon, knock it off.” Steve mediated. “Look, let’s just all start on a clean slate, alright? No more bickering.”

“Alright, then.” He sighed, switching his full attention to you with a sly grin. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”

The most you could mobilize out of your mouth was a simple, “hi,” in return.

Eddie’s tongue lolled around the inside of his mouth. It was clear you were going to be short with him. “So, uh, new to Hawkins, huh? How’re ya liking it?” Winnie’s words of advice were burdening your overthinking head. Three seconds. One… two- “Uh, okay, I’m glad you could make it. Glad that you agreed most of all. Even if you got here without me.” You gulped. One… two… thr- “Can I get you another drink?” You blinked down at the half filled beer bottle you’ve been nursing. One… two… t- “Okay, don’t answer.” Eddie gave up with an exasperated sigh.

“Hey, if you two would like another round, I can grab it for you?” Steve proffered, and you watched Winnie subtly nod her head to you in secrecy.

You stuttered back quickly. “Oh, yeah, t-that’d be great. Thank you, Steve.”

Eddie glowered in disbelief, watching as Steve whisked himself away towards the bar. “Y’know, if flowers weren’t your thing, you could’ve ringed me up to let me know?” He suddenly shoved himself in your face.

“Oh, they are.” Winnie punctuated. “Just not from you.”

Eddie ignored her. He knew what she was doing, and he wasn’t falling under any trap that would subscribe him to that asshole attitude he surely acquired.

So, Eddie Munson’s eyes glued to yours. “Was it the type? Not your favorite? What is? Or, are you into those weird fruit bouquet things? I can get you those if you are? Hell, chocolate even-”

“No, Eddie.” You stopped his questionnaire. “I just- I just felt more comfortable riding with Winnie, s’all. Thought it’d be best. For me.”

For you. Was that enough to, at the very least, show him you did, in fact, totally, very much have a mind of your own…?

“Alright, then.” Eddie sat back, actually accepting your words. “Fair enough.”

“Plus, she just didn’t want to be stuck in a car with some pervy jackass.” Winnie smiled, mindlessly dipping her food into the condiments.

Eddie chuckled. “Y’know what? I think we kinda got off on the wrong foot here.” He smiled, as she rolled her eyes. “So, I’m here to say I’m sorry. There it is. My formal apology. See? Growth.” Eddie winked over to you.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Winnie incredulously laughed. “For what is it exactly, Eddie, that you’re sorry for? For being an asshole? For lying? For leading me on? For having sex with me, then ditching me?”

Eddie pretended to ponder on that thought. “Yeah, sure.” He shrugged, as Winnie scoffed in disgust. “All of the above.”

“Ugh, you little, piece of shi-” Steve set the bottles of beer down.

“Hey, everything alright here?” He hurriedly intervened.

Winnie took a deep breath. “Fine, then. Apology accepted.” She ardently sat up straight. “So, how do you guys know each other?” She looked between both men.

Eddie had been quite quick to answer. “High school.” Bluntly so, too.

“Oh, you mean back when you were a loser?” Winnie smiled.

Eddie’s face dropped. “You told them?!”

Steve exhaustedly sighed, running a stressed hand through his hair. “Dude, I didn’t mean- look, it just came up in conversation, I was just trying to explain things.”

Eddie fell back with a look of unease, shaking his head in disbelief. His expression had vividly written the discontent he had with Winnie bringing up his past, it clearly being something he hadn’t wished to be disclosed to people he barely knew. “Hey, okay, look, we don't have to talk about that.” You interrupted, watching Eddie preoccupy his discomfort by mindlessly picking at a napkin. “Um, Steve said that you worked at a tattoo parlor, is that right?” You softly pried, but your endeavors fell short with his blatant choice to ignore you. “Hey, Eddie, you said you wanted us to get to know each other better, right? Well, now, we’re on a date, so we can.” Your genuine smile was enough to have him slowly eye you. Throwing his words right back into his face, he hated it.

Eddie slowly began sitting up, even choosing to discard the napkin. “Um, yeah. Alchemy Ink.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the one down the-”

“-Street from the coffeehouse, yeah.” Eddie finished for you. “It’s, uh, why I go down there for my breaks.” He tried to shrug off.

“Oh, that notebook- the one you, uh, drew those cute, little bats in- the really good ones, is that where you draw, like, your tattoo ideas?” Damn it, you were making it really hard to stay angry with your sweet conversation. His lips twisted inward to suppress his fighting smile.

You just had to fucking remember those damn bats, huh?

“Uh, yeah, t-the beginning sketches. Just, y’know, to get some ideas flowing, get a feel of what I can work with.” God, with you staring at him, Eddie really wished he had a beer to drown his stupid thoughts. But with how much you hated him, the rational part of his brain crossed off any idea of becoming a drunken asshole on a first date.

“That’s really cool.” Fuck you for flashing that smile, Eddie thought. “You should tattoo some law scale on Steve.” You joked.

Eddie chuckled. “Already poked ‘KING’ into his ass.”

With Steve shaking his head in disbelief, Winnie gasped, as the act of hiding his face within his hands confirmed Eddie’s words. “You got the word ‘king’ tattooed on your ass?!” She laughed.

Fair play to Eddie. “Hey, hey, in my defense, we were drunk high schoolers, and it was just some shitty stick-and-poke.” He laughed. “Plus, you have no room to talk, given ‘FREAK’ is permanently on your ass!”

“Freak? Why that of all things?” You questioned through your fits of giggles.

Eddie flashed you that devilish smile that had you instantly regretting your words. “I can show you more than I can explain it to you.” And his winked was merely met with the annoyed roll of your eye.

“No, no,” Steve laughed, “it was just some bullshit high school thing.”

Luckily, any tension of hostility was able to dissolve through the bubbling laughter that naturally came around. Through the round of beers, the stories of which Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson held were animatedly shared in strides to get their dates to laugh. And to their credit, they surely did accomplish such task with recounting the juvenile trouble they encountered during their teenage years, while not stepping too deep into the territory at which Eddie was still visibly uncomfortable with. A part of you had been curious to understand the complexity as to why Eddie hated his past to such a degree. But your mouth stayed quiet, apart from minimal conversation, as you, too, would feel uneasy if anyone had brought up your past.

Which is why you grew stiff when the topic of conversation switched to how you befriended Winnie Ambrose.

“Much like Harrington and I, you guys seem quite different.” Eddie interrogated. “So, how is it exactly you guys became friends?”

“Um,” Your brain went numb with the racking thoughts that were trying to spew out of your mouth to find anything, literally anything, to not mention him, Dalton…

“Same like you, y’know, high school.” Winnie briefed concisely enough to save you. “Nothing too crazy, really. Definitely not by some third-party freshman.” She joked to derail the conversation.

But ever the curious one, Eddie hadn’t stopped with the prodding, as he became quite serious with his task of getting to know you. Especially given the circumstance that he couldn’t thoroughly do so to his preferred degree, with two people hijacking this supposed date. “So, what? Through a class? A club? Were you in any clubs, Y/N?” You hated how ardent he’d become with eye contact.

“Uh, n-no, never really was.” You stuttered out. “We just kinda met through friends, I guess. We, uh, knew the same perso- people.”

“What person?” Eddie had clocked it, and his interest had skyrocketed.

“Uh…” You swallowed thickly. “Just some ex-boyfriend s’all.” You adamantly tried to brush off with a giant swig of the beer in hand.

But, of course, with the mention of an ex-partner, Eddie was never going to let it go. “‘Ex-boyfriend?’” He smiled sickly. “Someone I’m gonna need to fight to get to you, huh?” Eddie teased. “What was that relationship like?” He relished in the invasive nature that had your squirming in your seat.

“Uh, I-I don’t, um-”

“Jeez, they broke up, and moved on. He’s irrelevant.” Winnie interrupted for your sake, as Eddie quietly scoffed to himself. “Are you currently seeing anyone else, Steve?” She turned the focus away.

“Oh, uh, no, not seriously.” Steve answered. “Just a couple’a first dates the last few weeks, but most of which we’ve agreed to just keep it as such, no second.”

Winnie flashed an overly bright smile. “See, it’s so attractive when guys actually communicate, and don’t blow off girls.” She couldn’t have been more obvious. “Right, Y/N?”

“Huh?” Suddenly, her elbow was connecting to your rib. “Ugh-um, right, right, so attractive.” You powered through the pain.

“Respectable job, communicates, respectful, and has incredible hair,” Winnie gushed, “you’re really just, like, the perfect man, right?” She turned to you.

“Mhm.” You sweetly smiled, choosing to turn your back to Eddie Munson to gaze your full attention to Steve. “Very perfect.”

Had Steve not been notified of this so-called ‘Take Eddie Munson Down’ operation, he surely would have cocked an eyebrow at the weird behavior you both were beginning to show. But the man was merely left blushing behind his hand, with a smile that held back amused laughter.

Because while Steve smiled, Eddie had scowled at your unexpected response.

It became quite evident he hadn’t been all too keen on sharing this night with others. While he understood he suggested the invitation of a stupid double date, it was only spoken as a last resort to finally get with you. And even then, it didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially, when all of sudden, any chance of a potential romance was abruptly shot down with Winnie Ambrose’s interjection to somehow turn the conversation to Steve Harrington, who you suddenly took a liking to?!

If it was the weather, suddenly you both were drooling over how Steve would “totally be, like, the hot weatherman you’d turn on the news for just to gawk over.”

If it was your studies, suddenly you’d exclaim about how Steve “looked just like that one sexy professor in the psychology department.”

If it was Eddie’s job, suddenly both of your attention was turning to Steve to detail “how hot he’d look with tattoos.”

I have tattoos, Eddie screamed in his head. His nostrils were flaring with deep breaths, as he felt his body boiling over the sight of you leaning over the table just to speak to him. By 10:02 P.M, the date had irreparably turned into some flirt fest starring Steve Harrington, and any attempts at having a one-on-one conversation with you had pissed him off to no avail, as you casually shrugged him off as some old pal.

Eddie’s knee was bouncing by the second, eyes jumping from person to person, as the conversation carried on without him. Had any of you even noticed that he hadn’t spoken a word in five minutes?

“Well, I spent most of my time working with a close buddy of mine at a movie store, just a couple blocks…” Eddie didn’t even try to listen to Steve’s backstory, he couldn't even if he wanted to. His eyes had trained themselves to your side profile, the one that hadn’t looked at him in six minutes and twenty-three seconds in counting—crazy, he knows, but that wasn’t the topic of conversation—as you were too entranced with listening to Steve’s boring story. Eddie Munson had had enough. “...But my father was really hammerin’ on me to pursue something-” The grating noise of chair legs scraping across the floor had interrupted his speaking, as Eddie made the rash decision to pull you closer.

With the close proximity, his hand secured itself around the back of neck to pull your head close, as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Finish your food, I’m taking you somewhere else.”

You froze, as Eddie cleared his throat as though nothing happened. “What’s up?” Winnie worriedly questioned.

“Nothing.” Eddie shrugged, finishing the last bit of his food. “Just taking Y/N somewhere, so we’re,” he gestured to the both of you, “wrapping this up. You lovebirds do as please.” As everyone was slowly accepting the abrupt ending of the double date, Eddie was casually reaching for his wallet to slap the table with a couple of bills. “I asked, so I’ll cover it, Harrington.”

Oh, shit. Winnie hadn’t prepared you for alone time with Eddie Munson. It’s when he strikes best!

“Yeah, thanks, man.” Steve offered in return, before turning to Winnie. “Um, would you be okay with wrapping up as well? You got quite some ride back to Indy, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Winnie solemnly agreed to, as she mentally cursed Eddie for ruining the only good date she’s been on in the last few weeks.

You stood from your chair, finishing the last swig of your beer that you had left, before Eddie’s hand circled around your waist. “Hey,” he came in close, “It’s been a minute, so I’m just gonna say hello to Rog, and the couple’a people I haven’t seen in a while.” You nodded along, as you took into account the stories he recounted about his days of being a barback. “Here,” his keys dangled before you, “just make yourself comfortable, okay? I won't be long. It’s just the van out front.”

With two pats on the small of your back, all you could muster was a soft, “okay,” before you shuffled to Winnie.

Watching Eddie walk away, you clutched to her arm. “He told me to go to his car, I’m internally panicking right now!” You aggressively whispered.

“Okay, just calm down and go, alright? I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

With Winnie’s words, your legs worked fast to drag you out of the bar, where the gentle breeze slapped you with the needed composure to locate the large van parked a couple feet away. Unlocked, and strapped in, you took a deep breath in the passenger seat of Eddie’s car.

Though, that deep breath was unwarrantedly invaded by the pungent smell of weed and cigarettes, and while you were sure that may have come as a speedy remedy for stress, you weren’t too pleased to be suddenly struck with it at this moment.

You jammed the key into the ignition, revving the van to life to hopefully clear the smell with the much needed air conditioning, but all you got in return was the thrashing clash of some metal band screaming into your ear from the abrasive volume Eddie chose to listen to his music.

Jumping to turn it down, you finally settled back against the car seat with a heaving chest. But like clockwork, your nerves were shot with the adrenaline of being horrified from Winnie suddenly opening the car door.

“God, Winnie, you scared me half to death!” You screeched, as she clambered into the front seat.

“Look, we have to make this quick, Steve’s using the bathroom, and who knows when Eddie’s coming back.” She underlined. “We gotta prepare you, okay? Being alone with Eddie is nothing like being on a double date with Eddie! This- this means he’s really into you!”

“O-Okay, so what now? I wait four seconds to respond?”

“‘Four seconds?’” Winnie looked at you as if you were crazy. “There’s no four seconds, you’re practically seeing Eddie Munson now! This is basically dating!”

“I don’t want to be dating, though!” You implored through round eyes.

“Well, you’re just gonna have to suck it up!” Winnie set you straight. “Just remember, confidence is key, alright? Don’t let him walk all over you!” She coached. “You be straightforward with your responses, don’t let him intimidate you.”

The panic was beginning to settle too deep. “W-Well, what if he tries to make a move? Is he going to make a move?!”

“Look, just whatever he does, keep it to a minimum. Nothing more than a kiss, alright?” You nodded in agreement. “Are you a good kisser?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Well, I-I don’t know, h-how does anyone know if they’re a good kisser?”

Winnie dramatically sighed. “Well, do you guys tell you you’re a good kisser?”

The sudden revelation hit you like a truck. “Oh, my god, I’m a bad kisser!”

“Sh! Sh!” Winnie tried to calm your trepidation. “Y/N, look, it’s really simple, okay?” She mounted over the center console to set your head straight. “It’s just effortless movements. Light touches, okay? Light.” Her hand gripped to your jaw. “Just lock onto him, nothing too crazy. Grab onto that gorgeous head of hair, but no passion just yet, you have to build it up.” Her face came closer. “Be in control, hold his gaze, it just has to be the temptation,” her breath fanned across your features, as you felt weary as to where this was heading, “just a light brush to leave him wanting more.” Suddenly, Winnie’s lips were planted against yours, and you made your truest effort to follow her guidance, until-

“Holy hell, kiss her again. Do it!”

You and Winnie instantly pulled apart to witness the gross man who stood watching in amusement in front of Eddie’s parked van. “Get out of here, you perv!” You flipped on the headlights to scare the man, who quickly scurried off, when suddenly the beaming headlights showed Eddie coming over. “Oh, shit, Eddie’s coming!”

Winnie freaked, suddenly choosing to scale over the front seats to scramble her way into the messy den that was the back area of Eddie’s car. You sat abnormally stiff once Eddie stepped foot into his van. “Hey, you okay?” He asked, as he settled himself in.

“Mhm.” You hummed out.

He took a second. “Um, look, I know it’s probably not the most ideal situation, but I promise it won’t be anything terrible.” You slowly peered at Eddie, who sat cautiously in his seat. “I-I just,” he sighed, “I just want to, at the very least, get a chance to actually speak to you. W-Without Harrington or your friend. Just you.”

“Okay.” You softly nodded to his request, which eased a deep breath from chest. “That’s okay.”

A small smile etched upon Eddie's face, and you hadn’t decided whether to take it innocently or sinisterly. With Eddie Munson, it was almost always the latter. With your approval, Eddie pulled out of the parking lot—unbeknownst to him, with Winnie in tow—to head along the long stretch of highways that traveled along the breadth of Hawkins, Indiana.

Though, unfortunately, forgotten within the walls of The Hideout, Steve Harrington was flinging his hands dry from water due to the lack of paper towels that were never refilled within the men’s restroom, as he sought his way outside to a dead parking lot. “Win- Winnie?” He turned about. “Eddie? Anyone?”

Eddie’s fingers slowly turned the volume up of his radio. “Did you have a good time, at least?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, I quite liked the bar; a lot less crowded, which made it more enjoyable than the one from Saturday night.”

“Yeah?” He lilted. “Not really into that scene, huh?”

“No.” You chuckled. “Definitely not, but it is yours, no?” You interrogated back, almost accusatory in Eddie’s eyes. “You go there a lot, I’m assuming?” Spoken as if to find a definitive reason to not let this “date” prolong any further than tonight.

“I, well, um, wouldn’t say a lot.” He searched his way around the words. “Just when needed. For the band.”

“Huh, okay.” Eddie thought you relented. “Not the best reputation with that band though, right?” You smiled so sickly, Eddie was scoffing out a laugh.

He hadn’t seen such feistiness from you yet, he was honestly relishing in it. “We just- we just like to have fun, s’all. Don’t you? Unless you’re, like, some total buzzkill.” He smirked back.

“No, not a buzzkill.” You protested. “Just have self-discipline, you know? Or, wait, do you not know?”

Eddie kissed his teeth with a dimpling grin that was becoming permanent on his face with. “Oh, no, I know.” His finger aggressively tapped against his steering wheel. Because, truthfully, if he hadn’t known, he would have immediately pulled the car over, and shut you up the way he knew best… and, well, did best. “Just, y’know, like to live my life to the fullest with everything accomplished.”

“And everyone apparently, huh?”

Eddie’s knuckles were fusing white with the tight grip he clutched. “You’re walking on thin fucking ice here, Y/N.” He huffed a laugh from his buzzing body.

“Why?” You feigned. “I thought you liked having fun?”

Oh, Eddie Munson was so fucked.

Winnie Ambrose couldn’t have been more proud with the dedication shown by you, as she pushed through the pain of holding back her laughter that threatened to spill with every bump Eddie carelessly passed. She wrestled around the displayed blankets that she felt icky even touching, wondering what unfortunate crusted stains she may have been laying upon. Winnie shifted uncomfortably, as she reached beneath her to wedge out a bra that slung from under. Winnie silently gasped. “That dog.” She mouthed, until her nimble fingers suddenly felt the cushion of thick padding that invaded the bra.

Oh, great… it was her’s, she shamefully tucked the bra under her arm.

Lover’s Lake had been nothing but a ten minute drive for you and Eddie Munson, but somehow, the tension you both left untouched with silence seemed to make it last an eternity, as you both suffocated in the teasing friction that consumed the air between you two.

You peered out the window, watching worriedly as Eddie took a turn into a wooded path that left you viewing nothing but dark trees. “It won’t be anything terrible, huh?” You hid your anxiety through forced giggles.

“Yup.” Eddie did little to denote any further. “There’ll be a time when you’ll finally trust me.”

You head slumped against the cold glass. “Yeah, doubt it.” You whispered to yourself, unaware of the smile that ate at his face, as he quietly heard your words.

Much to your dismay, Eddie Munson proved you wrong—though proving your right could have left your name attached to some true crime murder case—as his van parked along the clearing that showcased such a scenic view of a sparkling lake that reflected the crystal tranquility of the moon and stars. Too enthralled, you hadn’t taken notice of Eddie leaving the car, until he approached your side to guide you out. “Is this too terrible for you?” You shook your head. “Perfect, then. One of my favorite places, in fact, so it would have pissed me off if it was.” With the slam of the car door, Winnie peeked up from her hiding place, watching as you and Eddie began walking down west.

“Do you come here often?” You pondered, taking in the scenery, as your shoes sunk into the mush of muddy grass and moss.

“When I lived here, yeah.” Eddie hopped over strewn branches. “For being so shitty, I gotta admit, this place sure does have some nice hiding spots.

“You gonna take me to see all your secret hideouts?” You peered up at him.

Eddie smiled. “When we get there, absolutely.”

“If.” You insisted.

“When.” He retaliated.

You rolled your eyes at the tongue-in-cheek attitude he liked to flaunt around, where he found nothing but mirth with every irk he managed to tick out of you. Silence settled through your stroll, until Eddie decided to break it with his unheard of vacillated voice. “So, uh, hey, you said you enjoyed tonight.” You nodded along. “Was that because of Harrington? Did you, like, I don’t know, like Steve?”

His hands balled behind his back, as his peripheral glued to your face intently. “Oh, yeah, I liked Steve, he was really nice!” You sincerely spoke, as his teeth began sinking into the cracked despair of his bottom lip.

“Oh,” was all he could proffer in return.

“I feel like it’s my duty to now push Winnie to continue seeing him.” You had no clue how much your giggles eased his mind. “He seems like he could be really nice to her, very sweet he is.”

Eddie huffed out a heavy sigh. “Y-Yeah, it’s nice those guys could hit it off… like us.” He smiled up close to your face, which had you stopping in your tracks.

“Are we hitting it off, Eddie?”

Standing before you, Eddie kissed his teeth with a grin. “I’d say we are, no? Got you out on a date, actually speaking to me, conversing well.”

“Okay.” You simply noted, continuing your walk, as he scurried to follow.

“‘Okay?’” Eddie repeated with the need of elaboration. “I don’t like that I don’t know what you’re thinking, Y/N.”

“Oh, maybe we are hitting it off, I feel the exact same way about you.” You joked through your soft laughter.

“No, no, I say what I’m thinking.” Eddie maintained his stance.

You incredulously laughed in return. “But Eddie, everything you say has quite the history of being a lie.” Your reprisal disseminated over any argument he was willing to divulge to support himself. Eddie Munson could only laugh at himself. How stupid of him to believe he could weasel some smooth talking to a girl, who quite literally witnessed him being kicked out of her apartment for being an asshole. “Kinda got my proof with Winnie-”

“Y’know,” he immediately interjected, “I think… you rely too much on her opinion.”

“And I think you’re a jackass.” You defensively snapped back. You hadn’t even expected it to come out so rash.

Eddie mockingly laughed in your face. “Oh, yeah? You think I’m a jackass? Alright, I’ll be a jackass. What’s up with that ex-boyfriend of yours you got so weird about? He a jackass, too? Hurt you real bad? Did something to make you lose some bullshit trust, so now you rely on your friend to help you through everything?

You loathed Eddie Munson. “Screw this.” You scoffed back, choosing to turn away from him, and make your steady way back to the van.

But he had taken a hold of your hand, forcing you back to his vicinity. “Hey! We’re not done here.”

“Okay, fine! What’s up with your past here? You got really worked up over Winnie bringing that up. And I tried to be nice, and not talk about it, but since you’re such an asshole, I truly don’t care anymore.” You retorted. “Steve mentioned how much people hated you here, and honestly I can see why! You are so conceited, and full of yourself. You’re not considerate of anyone’s feelings, and god, you just say the meanest things. I’m pretty sure most people are happy you left this town, since it meant never having to be near you again.”

No longer was this the banter of any light teasing. Eddie had flung your hand from his, as he stared you down. “You don’t have a single fucking clue as to what you’re talking about.” His heavy breathing had to be manually controlled by his self-control, as his aggressive breath blew into your face.

“Oh, what, but you do?!” You derided so scornfully right back at him.

Nothing but both of your heavy breathing could be heard against the empty lake front. With such intense eye contact that neither of you ever planned on breaking, Eddie was suddenly drawn in with temptation, and inched his head close against yours, as you lured yourself in…

Until your hands slapped against his chest. “What the hell are you doing?” You shoved him away.

Your push had snapped some sense into Eddie, and his mouth had fallen open with the words that couldn’t be found, as he held his chest with a sincere hand. And it only worsened his case for a cocky grin to creep upon his face towards you. “You so wanted to kiss me.”

Your mouth dropped at the absurdity of his ridiculing laughter. “Are you insane?! No, I didn’t!” You’d rather drown in Lover’s Lake than ever let him think so. “Christ, would you just get off your high horse for two seconds, and learn that not everyone wants you?”

You stomped on your heel, walking away from him once more. “I don’t have a fucking horse!” God, you could slap the stupidity out of him. “Hey, alright, c’mon, I shouldn’t have done that! Y/N!” His hand latched back onto yours. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie turned you around. “My dad was some absent crook, who ruined my life with his schemes, and everyone in this shit town fucking took it out on me, alright? So, sorry, but it pissed me when you fucking said that shit.” Your brows furrowed at the sudden dump of information he expelled onto you. All while Eddie simply waited. “Well, go on.”

“What?” You questioned.

“Your turn.” He made it seem so obvious. “You go, say something about that little boyfriend of yours.”

“W-Wha- no, I’m not gonna-”

Eddie dragged his hands over his face. “Oh, my god, just do it!”

“Fine!” You exasperated. “Yes, Eddie, he was a jackass. After two years, he just laid it all out that he never loved me like I love-” Your mouth clamped shut, as your face hid away with humiliation. “Look, I really don’t want to get into this.” You tried to get away, but Eddie had held back your movements.

“Alright, so we won’t get into this.” He proclaimed. “What’s your favorite color?”

“What? What are you doing?” You tried to walk around him.

But Eddie was there to keep his pace with you, only to fervently reiterate, “Just like you said, not getting into this. What’s your favorite color?”

You abruptly stopped with a defeated sigh. “Green.”

“Cool, mine’s black. Surprising, huh?” He sardonically smiled. You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a tiny chuckle. “Alright, let’s see what else… oh! What’s your favorite food? And I already know you eat meat, so don’t fuck with me with that.”

That, unfortunately, had you quietly giggling, but only at your own humor. “Um, I don’t know, uh, pesto pasta.”

“Ooh.” Eddie snapped his fingers. “I love buttered noodles, close enough, huh?” Christ, that got a laugh from you. “Hell, I’ll even make us some for our second date.”

“We are not going on a second date.” You chuckled, as you began walking away.

Eddie was quick to follow along your steps. “Sure we are. How else am I gonna find out your favorite hobby?” You had to give him credit, it was quite the perfect invitation for a conversation.

“I like puzzles.”

Eddie snorted. “Okay, grandma, I can get down with that.” He smiled.

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I know your favorite hobby.” You spoke matter-of-factly.

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie grinned. “And what’s that, Y/N?”

“Dungeons and Dragons, you nerd.” You laughed, as Eddie shook his head in disbelief. It wasn’t exactly the number one thing he wanted women of his interest to know; not exactly the greatest chick magnet out there.

Eddie feigned anger. “Fucking Harrington. The mouth on that one.”

Though, with complete transparency, if airing out his so-called embarrassing secrets was needed in order to keep you happy, he was ready to dish out the time his uncle found a number of women’s underwear when visiting his apartment in Indianapolis. Even sat him down with a heart-to-heart to remind Eddie that he’d love him no matter who he was.

It was cripplingly mortifying to notify his uncle that he, Eddie Munson, was, in fact, just a whore.

Winnie Ambrose had mindlessly pulled apart all the split ends she managed to find in her head of hair, before she exasperatedly sighed with a heavy fall against the van floor.

It felt like an eternity waiting for you to return. She’d only hoped you’d come with your dignity, and not as another notch on Eddie’s belt. It was only when her entertainment was finally being satisfied through her nosy curiosity of ruffling through Eddie’s belongings did the passenger door finally open.

Winnie laid so stiffly, as she heard you mutter a “thank you” to Eddie’s chivalry. Your eyes briefly connected for the couple seconds it took for Eddie to reach the driver side, with you nodding to the consensus of the thrown up thumbs up Winnie proffered.

“Ready to head home?” Eddie asked.

“Mhm, yeah.” You politely answered.

The forty minute drive to Indianapolis was thus embarked upon, with Winnie having to endure the detailed lore behind Eddie the Head, when one- one, singular Iron Maiden song played. Where Winnie rolled her eyes, you were quite taken aback with how much information he was ready to elaborate upon, just because it was “totally sick that we share the same name!” In the wise words of Eddie Munson.

Apparently his only motivation to learn anything.

Rolling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, the sky thundered with the trudging storm the spring season had welcomed.

Eddie had turned off the rumbling ignition of his car. “Um, w-would you mind just, like, walking with me?”

Desperately wanting to jump over to your good side, Eddie had no issue with quickly agreeing to your request. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Winnie slowly moved to the back double doors that would become her escape route. With Eddie whisking you away, you subtly peered back to catch glimpses of Winnie inching her legs out of the car, holding her breath, as every movement caused the old thing to creak from the rust.

“Okay, um, I know things weren’t necessarily ideal, but I still really enjoyed being with you, and um, I’m just really glad you endured staying with me for this long.” He sniffed out a laugh that you followed along with.

“Y-Yeah, um, I think everything managed to work out okay in the end.” You softly smiled.

Eddie’s hand found its way to the back of his neck, a classic move that not only let him appear nervous for your sympathy, but tactfully allowed his muscle to bulge for your pleasure. “I’ve gotten quite the understanding that you’re not exactly the type of girl to kiss on the first date… much to my dismay.” He dramatically sighed to make you laugh. “So, Y/N,” your name rolled off his tongue so languidly, “actually give me a call, because I’m not above tracking you down for a second date. But I mean it, have a great night, darling.”

Slamming the door behind her, Winnie’s breath hitched at sudden cause that halted her escape plan. The heavy door closed on the damn maxi skirt you suggested she wear! “Oh, no. No, no, no, no!” She pulled against the threads that refused to stretch any longer.

Watching her struggle, you panicked with how quickly Eddie was about to turn away, and your mind unanticipatedly resulted to your hand turning his face towards your own.

Nose bumping, breath fanning, you stared into his eyes. “Um,” your throat went dry. Eddie took your unwarranted invitation with his lips coming down slowly to ever so gently graze against yours.

“C’mon,” yank! “Let,” yank! “Go,” rip!

Winnie’s skirt clung from Eddie’s back doors, as she quickly scrambled to cover her exposed self. Seeing her scurry into the gated pool area of the complex, you suddenly diverged from the kiss, planting the tiniest peck to the corner of his mouth so quickly. “Okay, um, thanks for tonight, Eddie!” You hurriedly began walking away. “Have a good rest of your night!” You waved, while Eddie stood stunned.

Utterly frozen.

“Wasn’t even my date, and he still managed to get me out of my skirt.” Winnie cursed herself.

A fluttering smile flushed on his face with heat, as his fingers graced on the phantom touch of your lips still lingering on your face.

His confidence strides led him back to his van, as he felt on top of the world. There wasn’t any girl Eddie Munson couldn’t get, and his ego was relishing in the extra boost from your kiss. But with it came the frightening reality that he wanted more than what you were giving.

He wanted you.

Revving up his engine, there wasn’t anything stopping in the way of Eddie Munson. Not even Winnie Ambrose’s skirt that slapped along the asphalt of the road with each foot Eddie drove up.

Your mind refused to focus on anything, but your apartment door, as one thought about Eddie was going to make your head spiral out of control. You wielded yourself to swallow away those nauseating butterflies that were exploding in your tummy.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. You hated Eddie Munson.

“And my car is still stuck at some dingy bar. Ugh, I hate Eddie Munson!” Winnie exclaimed.

There was only one thing for certain: Eddie Munson must die!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | If I forgot anyone who asked to be tagged, please let me know, so I can include you in future chapters. This goes for anyone who wishes to not be tagged, just inform me! And, of course, everyone 18+ is welcome to be included <3

It would also help greatly if anyone who asked to be tagged would reblog my work :) @darknesseddiem @tlclick73 @ezzynf @hereforshmut @babez-a-licious @madelynraemunson @nope-thanks @catherinnn @sunshineandwitchery @meowforluv @bellalillyrose @eddieslooneymoonie @honey-flustered @therealgothamguardianfr @fishwithtitz @corrodedcoffincumslut @ohmeg @superas1an @maraudersforlife2005

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#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #revenge is a dish best served cold

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playstation-dreamcast · 23 days ago

Text

Hey, I've noticed a severe lack of Chris content so I decided to take matters into my own hands

Now Presenting...

Summary: Your shitty boyfriend has canceled plans, yet again. This time on Valentines Day of all days. Heartbroken, you decided to call you childhood best friend who offers to take you out to the Valentines Day carnival instead, thus kicking off your friends to lovers arch. 10.7k words

Content Warning: This story contains slightly possessive themes, marking, and smut. Viewer discretion is advised. Reader has fem anatomy, generally gender neutral minus one reference to makeup

“What do you mean he canceled?” Chris’s voice cracked through the speaker on your phone, “It’s Valentine's Day, what could possibly be his excuse this time?”

You sighed as you flopped onto your bed, “He said he’s putting in overtime at work.”

“And his dick in his secretary.”

“Chris!” you chastised. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to be reminded of it.

“Sorry,.” he said in that way that made it incredibly clear he wasn’t sorry at all. “What I meant to say was: that’s a really shitty excuse.”

You chuckled a bit, “Wanna know what makes it worse?” you asked.

You heard Chris let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”

“He’s salary.”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You knew your boyfriend's excuse of ‘I’m going to be at work late to meet this deadline (that’s two months away)’ was bullshit. But hearing just how pissed off Chris got about it put it into perspective just how bullshit it was. It felt vindicating.

“I’m going to kill him, you know.” Chris said.

You shook your head, as if he could see. “No you’re not.”

Chris was silent for a second. “I’m going to punch him?”

You rolled the thought around in your head. “Hmmm...Yeah, I’d allow that.”

“I’m going to punch him,” he said with a conviction that told you he really meant it. You smiled softly to yourself. You’d known Chris for forever, having met while you were in the foster care system together. He’d always been protective over you, and it was nice to know some things never changed.

Chris let out an agitated huff on the other end of the line. “So what’s the plan?” He asked.

You scoffed. “What’s the plan? The plan is getting back into my pajamas and watching shitty reality tv to make myself feel better.”

You didn’t have to see it to feel the indignation on his face. “You’re kidding? But you already got dressed and everything.”

“Thank you, Chris,” you groaned, “I was actually really hoping you’d rub salt in the wound. That’s why I called you, specifically.”

“I’ll take you out.”

“What?” You sat up in bed.

“I’ll take you out!” He said again, this time more sure of himself. “It’s not like I’m doing anything tonight, and unlike your ‘boyfriend,’ I’d be honored to take you out.” He spat out the word “boyfriend” as if it tasted like rot in his mouth, especially to give the label to your current partner.

You felt yourself fluster. “Chris-”

“It’s not a date.” He was quick to clarify. “It’s just…two friends hanging out on Valentine's Day, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

You bit your lip as you thought about it. If your boyfriend found out, he would be pissed. He’d never liked Chris, always convinced that he ‘just wants to fuck you.’ This would only add fuel to his fire.

“Yeah, okay,” you finally said. There was no use in wasting a perfectly good outfit just sitting at home. And you had just spent an hour and a half on your makeup, so fuck it. Might as well hit the town with your best friend.

You could hear the smile in Chris’s voice. “Sweet! I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

You smiled, getting up to look yourself over in the mirror and make sure you still looked presentable. “Sounds good,” You agreed, “I’ll see you then.”

💘💘💘

You were checking over your outfit one last time when the doorbell rang. Chris had told you to dress warm, so you did just that. And honestly, you felt pretty cute! “Coming!” You called as you rushed to the door.

Chris was smiling on the other side, arm tucked behind him. “Hey,” he said, as he presented you with the bouquet he was hiding behind his back. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You were shocked as you took the flowers from him. “Awe, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, looking over the array. You smiled as you noticed the most prominent flower. Chris would have your favorite flower memorized.

He laughed, following you inside as you went to grab a vase. “Of course, I had to do it. Everyone deserves flowers on Valentine's Day.”

You returned with the bouquet, placing it in the middle of the coffee table. “How do you know if I got flowers today or not?” you sassed, “I do have a partner you know.”

Chris gave you a look. He said your name, unamused. “Come on.”

You sighed, “yeah, well, you’re right. All he got me today was frustration.” You shook your head, trying to shake the disappointment out.

Chris noticed. He gave you a smile, and held out his elbow for you to take, determined not to let you dwell. “Shall we?” he asked.

You took it with a soft giggle. “We shall.” You nodded as he led the way out the door and to his car. An old clunker of a car, held together with duct tape and pure hubris on Chris’s part. It wasn’t even like he couldn’t afford a new one, or at least to replace it. He just insisted that this one ran fine, which was technically true, so why go into debt?

Luckily, he kept it a lot cleaner these days than he did in highschool. You realized the interior was actually really well kept. “Since when did you stop treating your car like a trashcan?” you asked, before realizing that one probably should have gone through the filter once or twice more before being let out. “Sorry,” you quickly added.

Luckily, he took it on the chin with a laugh. “Since like, five years ago when I realized I should probably take care of my investments. Are you really only noticing now?” As embarrassing as it was to admit, yeah you were. You felt kinda bad, it’s not like you didn’t hang out with Chris as often as you guys could. And you had been in his car countless times in the last five years, this really shouldn’t have been news to you. You guessed you just hadn’t thought to look.

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. I guess it’s normally pretty dark when I’m in your car. I’ve never really seen it in the daylight.”

Chris looked out the window at the setting sun, then looked at you and smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.” he shrugged, using one arm to drive and letting the other rest on the center console.

You wanted a distraction, so you went straight to the CD binder he still kept in his glove box. “Anything you wanna listen to?’ You asked.

He shook his head, “Whatever you want. It shouldn’t be a long drive anyway.” He informed you. With that in mind you flipped through the collection. The usual suspects were all here, as always. Queen– obviously, Kiss, Journey, Rolling Stones, all the classics you’d grown up on, as well as some new faces! Blink 182 was unexpected, Green Day less so. At some point he’d taken your advice and finally checked out Nirvana. He seemingly liked ‘em enough to look into the Foo Fighters.

Specifically, he’d picked up the album The Colour and The Shape. Which, just so happened to have one of their finer songs on it, in your humble opinion. Chris said the ride wouldn’t be a long one, so you popped the CD in and skipped straight to track eleven: Everlong

If Chris was a dog, his ears would have perked up. “Ooo, good choice.” he smiled his approval, nodding along with the opening riff.

You shrugged, “Well, it was either this or Californication”

He laughed fondly, “Damn, it’s actually been a minute since I listened to that one.” He confessed. “Do you remember when it first came out?”

“Yes!” You laughed, “We raided a 7-Eleven and drove around all night listening to it on repeat,” You remembered that night fondly. Driving down all of the back roads running on pure nothing more than high-fructose corn syrup and the kind of adrenaline that only came from laughing with your closest friend in the entire world at three AM.

Chris grinned. “I remember you trying to analyze the lyrics, despite the fact the Red Hot Chili Peppers are a pure vibes band only,” he teased.

You brushed him off, “All art is made to be interpreted.”

“Guess you’re right,” He conceded, “Still. That was a nice night.” He smiled, and for a second, with the setting sun casting the perfect hazy halo around him. You realized just how handsome Chris actually was. When he was laughing and laid back, when the lowlight made his grey eyes pop, he seemed almost too good to be true. These were all thoughts that you shouldn’t really be having about your best friend.

You needed a distraction. You looked out the front windshield to find anything worth commenting on. Luckily, you spotted something right away.

“Is that a ferris wheel?” you asked, pointing out the window.

He grinned, clearly proud of his date-that’s-not-a-date location. “Yeah!” He confirmed, “I guess the town wants to do an annual Valentines Day fair now. This is the first one.”

You tilted your head a bit to get a better look at him. “Isn’t that just a little bit corny?”

“Yeah, well, you try to plan a date that’s not at all corny, see what you come up with,”he said defensively as he looked for a place to park.

You raised an eyebrow. “ I thought this wasn’t a date.”

Chris didn’t miss a beat. “It’s not,” he reaffirmed. “But it is, maybe, a historical event for the town that I figured we should get in on.”

“Yeah, but also you called it a date,” You pointed out.

“Uh, actually, I said, ‘You try to plan a non-corny date’ not ‘this is a date.’ Those are two different things,” he said with an over dramatic head roll. “So checkmate.” He laughed at his own exaggerated display, which caused you to laugh with him.

You shrugged, “Whatever it is, as long as I get a funnel cake, I’ll be happy.” The cold hit you as you stepped out of the car. You had on one of your thicker coats, but it was still February, and there was going to be a chill in the air no matter how many layers you wore. It was to be expected.

What was to be slightly less expected was Chris’s arm finding its place around your shoulders, holding you close to him and blocking the wind with his body. He didn’t say anything about it, so you didn’t say anything about it. You’d never been scared of affection in your friendship, hugs were a common occurrence. This shouldn’t have even been noteworthy.

The sun was now fully set, letting the rainbow lights of the fair take center stage as the two of you lined up for tickets. It was surprisingly short, no doubt due to people just not really wanting to deal with the cold. It was a pleasant surprise, and you’d happily take the win. You listened to the sound of laughter and carnival music filling the air as Chris handled the ticket situation. You hadn’t been to a fair in years. No real reason why, you just hadn’t really considered going to one. Life just tended to get in the way of things like that.

You found yourself actually really excited. “Come on,” Chris pulled you out of your daze, “Funnel cakes this way.” You smiled as you huddled closer to him and followed him to the various food trucks and pop up booths.

The deep fried smells of a festival were always pleasant, inviting you to over indulge in whatever monstrosities the carnies had come up with this year- your arteries be damned. You found yourself shaking with excitement as you approached the booth. Or maybe that was the cold. Who knows!

“Man, I can’t remember the last time I had a funnel cake,” He confessed as the two of you joined a line.

You nodded in agreement. “Me either honestly,” You admitted, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a carnival.”

Chris thought for a minute. “Me either actually. That… Kinda sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. Honestly I always have a lot of fun at them, ya know?”

“Yeah, I agree,” He smiled at you, “We’ll have to make a tradition of going every year. Well, assuming you haven’t dumped your current loser for someone better by then.” he shrugged.

You huffed an almost laugh and shoulder checked him gently. “Or that you haven’t found a nice girl by then.”

He actually laughed at that. “Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes dismissively, and before you could argue he was ordering the funnel cake. He looked back over to you, “You okay with sharing?”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine,” You said nodding and with a wave of your hand. You knew they charged way too much for what was essentially an ugly powdered doughnut.

But god, was it a delicious ugly powdered doughnut. Money was exchanged and the two of you moved to the side to wait. “So, how much do I owe you?”

He looked at you as if you had just sprouted a second head and started speaking Klingon. “Why would you owe me?” he asked back.

Now it was your turn to look at him as if he had turned bright green and started speaking backwards. “Beeeeecause I plan to eat half of it? I figured I would at least pay for half?”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“I mean no,” he laughed. “I’m taking you out to help you feel better that your shitty boyfriend stood you up, I’m not gonna make you pay for the comfort food. What kind of jackass would that make me?”

You blinked at him.

He blinked back. “He makes you pay when you go out, doesn’t he?”

“Sure does.”

“Do you at least take turns paying?”

“Well, it’s normally my treat if I ever actually get him to go out.”

“....Does he at least pay for his half?”

“Sometimes?”

Chris blinked incredibly aggressively at you. “I hate him.”

You nodded. “I know you do.”

He shook his head. “Genuinely I don’t get what you see in him. There’s like, literally a billion other guys in the world, you could have your pick of any of em.” He made a quick turn to grab the cake.

You simply shrugged. “Not sure who else would put up with me.”

“Okay, so first off, no one is putting up with you,” he informed you. “Second off, I know at least ten guys off the top of my head that would go crazy for your number.”

“Is that Leon guy Claire keeps bringing to the Christmas party one of them?” You teased as you picked some fried dough off the plate. There were few joys in this life as pure as warm funnel cake.

Chris grimaced. “No. Well, yes, but no.”

You tilted your head. “Explain.”

Chris shook his head, “You don’t want him. He’s still hung up over a chick that got him shot.” He said as he popped a piece into his mouth.

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “She shot him?!”

Chris quickly shook his head, waving his hand and trying to swallow the dough in his mouth so he could explain. “No no no no no, She got him shot. Like, he took the shot for her, she was not the one behind the trigger. To my knowledge.”

“Oh, okay. That is less bad.” You admitted with a nod as you took some more of the cake.

“Though, she has left him for dead at least twice.”

You nearly choked on the cake. “You’re right, I don’t want anything to do with…whatever that is.”

Chris chuckled and nodded, “Yeaaah. Don’t get me wrong, I love Leon to death, he’s a great guy. But much like you he has a habit of only wanting the worst people for him.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then realized you had no real rebuttal. So you shrugged instead. “What can I say? I really know how to pick em! I just, don’t know how to pick em well I guess.” You laughed at your own poor judgement and ate another piece of the cake.

Chris did too. “It’s fine,” he teased. “That’s what I’m here for. To let you know when you picked trash.”

“Not that I ever listen to you.”

“At least you can admit you never listen to me.” He laughed, showing off his full smile. You noticed just how cute his dimples actually were.

And then you noticed the powdered sugar on his nose. “Chris,” You giggled as you reached over. “You look like you party a little too hard on the weekends.” You joked as you wiped the powder away.

He pulled away, still giggling, “Christ! Your hands are cold!” He said, shaking his head, “We gotta do something about that.” He leaned back in, his grin mellowing into a soft smile as he looked at you.

For some reason, you suddenly felt… shy?? Why the fuck did you feel shy? It was just Chris. “Well, what do you suggest?” you asked.

“Hot chocolate,” he said with absolute certainty. “Best thing on a cold day.”

You nodded as you threw the now empty plate into the trash, “Sounds good to me!” You agreed as you moved to leave.

Only for him to catch your wrist and your breath to catch in your throat. “Hold on,” he muttered, turning you back to him. “You got something on your cheek too.” He reached up, cradling your face in his palm and gently using his thumb to wipe the sugar away. He was gentle, using a delicate hand normally reserved for priceless works of art, or divine artifacts.

And when your eyes met his, you could tell that’s exactly what he thought he was handling. No one had ever looked at you like that. No one had ever smiled at you like that. At least, not that you had noticed before. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

You stepped back, “Thanks!” You smiled, though you had to wonder if your nerves came through in it. “Now, come on! You brought up hot cocoa and that’s all I can think about now.”

Chris nodded, moving to keep up with you. “Right.”

It was a cold winter’s night, so more than a few of the food stands were advertising cheap hot drinks. The issue was none of them were actually cheap, as is the tradition with any sort of fair. Chris didn’t seem to mind though, which was becoming increasingly frustrating.

“Chris, please,” you sighed. “You already paid for the tickets, and the funnel cake, just let me pay for the hot cocoa.”

He shook his head, as stubborn as a boulder. “No way. I already told you I’m not making you pay for a thing, especially not when I’m the one that invited you out.”

You gave an agitated huff, hoping he could feel the lasers you were trying to shoot at him with your eyes. “I feel bad.”

“Why?” Chris asked, “There’s nothing to feel bad about, I want to do this for you.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Fine, but I’m only going to make you buy one. We’re just going to have to share.”

Chris shrugged, finally stepping into one of the shorter lines. “Fine by me.” You rolled your eyes yet again for emphasis, but stood next to him while pretending to pout. You shoved your hands under your arms to try and keep them warm, and nestled your face deeper into your coat. He wrapped his arm around you again, pulling you closer into his warmth.

You looked up to see him smiling down at you. “Thank you.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “For?”

“Letting me take you out tonight,” he shrugged with the arm he wasn’t using to hold you, “I’m having fun.”

You couldn’t fight the affectionate smile that crept onto your face. “I’m having fun too,” you admitted, leaning into him almost instinctively. This was nice. You tried to remember the last time you felt so comforted, but sadly drew a blank. If you had to take a guess, it was probably when you first started dating your current “partner.” He had been so loving and attentive in the beginning, a far cry from the asshole he was now. You used to hold out hope that things would go back to how they used to be. That this ice between you was only temporary, and once he got over whatever it was that was bugging him, he’d go back to being the man he used to be.

You were starting to accept the fact he never would. You didn't have too much time to dwell on it though, as Chris placed the hot paper cup in your hand. The warmth felt nice, and you instantly wrapped your other hand around it too.

“Well? How’s it taste?” He asked.

You took a sip, expecting the worst, as is common with simple yet over priced drinks, only to be pleasantly surprised. Your eyebrows went up as you took another sip. “It’s actually really good!”

Chris smiled, happy to see you pleased with the drink. “Oh yeah? Let me try,” He asked as you handed him the cup. His reaction mirrored yours. “I’m gonna be honest, I was expecting hot water. That’s actually not half bad.”

“Right?” You laughed.

He handed you the cup back. “Here, you hold onto it,” he said. “Keep your hands warm.”

You happily took the drink, but still tilted your head at him. “What about you?”

He shrugged, “I’ll live.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. “Oh come on Chris. You don’t have to be so self-sacrificing all the time, ya know.”

He laughed defensively. “What? I’m not ‘self-sacrificing’ just cause I’m letting you warm up a bit.” he said as the two of you started to walk together again.

“Whatever,” you shrugged, taking his hand in your now significantly warmer hand, “If you’re not gonna warm yourself, I’ll just have to do it for you.” you said as you took another sip.

Chris smiled. “Works for me,” He said as he took the cup for another drink, then quickly handed it back to you. The thought that his lips had been where yours had slipped into your brain almost undetected. Almost. When it transformed into “It’s almost like an indirect kiss,” you took notice. You thought about what it would have been like to actually kiss Chris. To hold him close to you and feel his stubble tickle your skin. To have him wrap his arms around you, to maybe even hold your face like he did before. His lips looked soft.

You snapped yourself out of that right the fuck away. Absolutely not, you were NOT allowed to think of Chris that way. You’d never thought of him like that before, you had no idea what had gotten into you.

Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t quite true that you had never thought of Chris that way before. You had been friends since grade school, it was only natural that at least once during all those years of close friendship you’d consider it. But it was never seriously, never for more than a fleeting second. He was your closest confidant, you couldn’t risk it.

But something about tonight felt so different from all the other nights before. Something in the way he moved and laughed; it felt so safe and warm, more so than usual. Something in the air made it feel like a risk worth taking.

NO. NO. STOP IT. You bit your own tongue to ground yourself back in reality. The reality where you were in a relationship and Chris was just your friend and absolutely nothing more. He said it himself, this wasn’t a date. How fucking cliche would it be to catch feelings for your best friend on Valentines Day night at a fucking lovers festival? What was this, shitty fanfiction? Absolutely not.

Oh shit, Chris had been talking this whole time and was looking at you now expecting you to speak. Fuck. “Uh, yeah no, you’re totally right, I also think exactly what you think. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at you. “You weren’t listening were you?”

“I was!” You said, far too defensively for someone who was actually listening.

Chris smirked with amusement. “Oh yeah? Then what was I talking about?”

Your stomach dropped. “Uhh… The band Queen?’

“Lucky guess.”

“All I’m hearing is that I win.”

He laughed at that. “Don’t you always?” he asked.

It was at that point you spotted it. Hanging over with one of the carnival games, a grand prize to be won. It was a 4ft tall, grumpy, green, wolf plush. One with a cartoonishly exaggerated frown and angry eyes. You couldn’t help but think that was what Chris’s fursona would look like if he had one, and it made you laugh.

Which caught Chris’s attention. “What?” he asked, looking behind himself to where you were staring.

“Look!” You pointed with childish excitement. “That wolf over there, it’s so cute!” You gushed.

“What, the green one?” he asked, already leading the two of you over to the game, “What’s so funny about it?”

Oh. You absolutely could not tell him it was because it reminded you of him. “It’s just so cute!” You giggled. “Look how angry it is, it’s precious!”

Chris grinned at your excitement. “Yeah? Bet I can win it for you.”

“Oh please,” you were about to argue about how these games were all rigged, but before you could, the guy running the game started talking.

“Step right up guys, and win your gals a prize!” Okay, well that was heteronormative to say the least. “Game is simple, shoot the cupid, win your doll a doll. The more you shoot, the better the prize.”

You could already see the over confident gleam in Chris’s eyes. “How much to play?’ He asked.

“Just two tickets my friend.”

Chris grinned at you quickly before turning back to the carnie and handing him two tickets. The man handed Chris the airsoft gun as he went to start the game. He looked at it and frowned a bit, staring down the sight. “What is it?” you asked.

Chris shook his head, “Nothing I can’t handle.” Before you could question him further, the Entry of the Gladiators started playing and the two rows of cupids started moving on the track, bouncing up and down as they went. Chris took aim, taking the time to get the vibe of how fast the targets moved and bobbed. Then he fired.

And missed by a mile and a half. You were honestly gobsmacked to see how hard he whiffed that shot. You knew Chris to be a master marksman, so what the hell happened here?

Chris seemed undeterred though, almost as if he expected it. What unfolded next could have been described as embarrassing. You, on the other hand would prefer to describe it as harrowing, brave even. You would have preferred to do so. Even you had to admit this was a bit painful to watch.

In the end, he shot two. “Sorry big guy,” the man running the game said, handing Chris a small stuffed monkey as a consolation prize.

Chris shook his head and held up his hand, “Keep it,” he said. “That was just a practice round.” And he handed the man two more tickets.

The carnie seemed genuinely a little shocked. “Whatever man, it’s your money dude.” He muttered.

Entry of the Gladiators started again, and both you and the carnie braced for another embarrassing display. This time it was like a completely different man had taken the gun. Every shot was a dead ringer, knocking out the plywood cherubs with the speed and precision far more fitting of a man with Chris’s reputation. The game normally gives you three minutes to shoot as many targets as you could.

Chris knocked them all out in half that time. His smile was cocky enough that it would have been punchable if not so well earned. “Well, I think that went better the second time around, what do you think?” he asked.

The game runner just blinked. “Uh, I mean yeah! Very impressive sir!” he said, slipping back into character, “You’ve won anything on the wall, pick your prize!”

“The green wolf,” he pointed. The man handed him the plushie, and Chris in turn handed it to you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “What was that?!”

Chris tilted his head, “Hmm? Oh, you mean the first round? The sight on the gun was misaligned, it’s how they rig it. I needed to get used to the actual aim.” He shrugged, acting nonchalant despite how happy he was to have his ego stoked.

“So you needed a whole round to get used to it?” You asked.

He laughed. Well, It wasn’t really a laugh. More like one quick, exaggerated HA! Before he explained. “No.” He shook his head, “No, I threw the first round cause I thought it was funny.” He grinned.

You laughed and playfully pushed his shoulder. “You’re a jerk,” You teased.

“How am I a jerk!?” He laughed.

“I don’t know, I just know you are one!”

“Oh, well, yeah okay that’s fair enough.” The two of you giggled together as you walked.

You smiled as you hugged your prize close. “Well thank you. I appreciate the effort.”

He looked at you with soft eyes. “You’re worth the effort.”

You felt that familiar warmth radiate in your chest again, and hid your face in the wolf to hide any signs that his words affected you. Chris finished off the hot chocolate, throwing the empty cup away in a nearby bin. It was getting late. “You know what would be the perfect way to end the night?”

“Hmm?” you asked, looking up.

“We should ride the ferris wheel.” He grinned. You couldn’t agree more.

💘💘💘

Before you knew it, you were cozying up to Chris on the bench of the ferris wheel seat, toddler sized plush wedged firmly between you and the short wall of the basket, pressing you just that much closer to Chris.

Not that you were complaining. As the ride started, you found yourself drawn to his side. He radiated warmth, and comfort, and you were tired of fighting the urge to press yourself into him. He gladly accepted your presence, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. A silent act of affection he’d been doing all night, made to feel just that little bit more intimate due to the tight space.

You looked out into the park as the wheel went up. The view was breathtaking, the colors sparkling against the night sky. The higher you got, the more of the town came into view, a warm glow framing the rainbow of the fair.

“The view’s gorgeous,” you whispered, looking over to Chris.

“Yeah, it is,” he muttered. Had he been looking at you this entire time? You weren't sure. What you were sure of, was that Chris looked… different in this light. The technicolor glow danced across his face and in his grey eyes, making him look softer all the way up here. Was his jaw always that sharp, or was the scruff just doing a lot of good work for him? Was his smile always that welcoming, his arms always this safe, his eyes always so bright with affection? It was like you were seeing him– really seeing him for the first time since he and Claire walked into that group home all those years ago.

He wasn’t a scared little kid anymore, or an overly rebellious teenager. At some point, he had grown into an entire adult when you weren’t even looking. Or maybe you just hadn't thought to look. Your heart rattled your ribs, like a crazed animal trying to get out of its cage. And for the first time tonight, you let it.

How had you missed it? You’d spent so long chasing the inferno of love, you’d never even stopped to consider that you already felt it. Right here, sitting next to your best friend. The one person in the world that could ever truly understand. He’d always treated you like you were important, like you were precious. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d taken it for granted before.

He had a gentle look in his eye you didn’t quite recognize. Something intense, and full of adoration. He bit his lip, and you thought that should be illegal. It was a dangerous look on him. You shouldn’t feel this way. You had a boyfriend. You had a partner who was paranoid enough about Chris as is. Of course, nothing was keeping you from taking the trash to the curb. You couldn’t believe this was the first time that thought had occurred to you.

Chris held you just a fraction tighter, and said your name like it was a soft prayer. You felt your heart do backflips you hadn’t previously thought it capable of. So this was what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach. “Chris,” you whispered back.

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around you gently came to cradle your face. He let out a small breath, choking back all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I…I love you, you know.” It wasn’t an uncommon phrase in your friendships. You’d said it countless times: to him, to Claire, to Jill. Chris had said it to you what felt like a thousand times before, and you’d always known exactly what he meant.

It was different this time. But as long as you didn’t acknowledge it, you could hide behind the familiarity. “I love you too.” you confessed. Your brain clocked out for the night, and your heart took over the shift. You felt yourself lean in to him, anticipation setting your spine on fire as you realized he was leaning in too. His lips looked so soft.

The sudden jolt of the wheel coming to a stop knocked you both out of it. You both jumped, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could in the small basket. You blinked at each other, wide eyed and slightly panicked as what had almost happened settled between you, and the implications of it. You two were in uncharted territory here.

“Rides over,” the ride jock said as he tapped the back of yours and Chris’s seat. “Feel free to carry on whatever you have going on at home.”

You were both still too caught up in yourselves to really argue with the man, or correct him for that matter. You simply gathered your belongings and made your way to the car. This time the two of you walked with a healthy distance between you, the space filled instead with the impenetrable wall of the status quo. God, what had you been thinking?! There was no coming back from a kiss, that was a boundary that you couldn’t uncross. Everything would have changed if you had actually kissed.

Everything felt like it had already changed. It was quiet until you had gotten to the car.

He was the first to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said, not quite able to look you in the eye. That…was not what you expected to hear.

“What? Chris, what do you have to be sorry for?”

“I– I made it weird, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just- we were so close, and I’ve always thought you were so pretty, and–”

“Chris.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight. You have a boyfriend, and I told you this wasn’t a date–”

“Chris.”

“And we’ve been friends for so long, why would you ever see me like that–”

“Chris.” You said with much more emphasis this time, putting a hand on his arm. You didn’t like where that was going. He finally looked at you. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

Then opened it again. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that,” you said, sternly enough to get the point across. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We were both just, caught up in the moment.”

Chris nodded. “Right.”

You continued. “This doesn’t have to change anything. We can just ignore it.”

He paused for a second. Then nodded again. “Right.” he agreed.

The drive back was quiet. Thick with everything left unsaid, filled with whatever the classic rock station wanted to fill it with. The Promise by When In Rome felt… a little bit targeted, you wouldn’t lie. But you both let it play out nonetheless. You even took comfort in Chris quietly humming along with it. It took some of the edge off the silence.

As always when you made it to your house, he insisted on walking you to your door. ‘To make sure you get inside safe,’ he’d always say. As the two of you got to the top step of your porch, you faced each other with smiles.

A little closer to each other than was necessary.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you said, giving a little lift to your new wolf friend, “Thank you, again.”

“Of course,” He nodded, “I had a lot of fun tonight too.”

His eyes locked on yours. “We should do it again sometime,” you said.

“Carnivals here all week,” he pointed out. Was he getting closer? Or were you?

“I should really go inside.”

“I should probably get going too.” Neither of you made even an attempt to do either of those things. His hand reached up and held your face, this thumb caressing your cheek.

He whispered your name again, the same way he had on the ferris wheel. “I… Can I kiss you?”

You hadn’t expected him to be so forward. Not after the apology tour in his car. And you definitely hadn’t expect to be so fucking giddy about it either. “Please.”

Chris didn’t need to be told twice. In the beat of a butterfly's wings his lips were on yours, and they were just as soft as you imagined. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer than you thought possible, and yet still you got the vibe it wasn’t close enough for him. With one arm still holding the wolf, the other came up to wrap around his neck.

You felt his teeth drag across your lower lip, asking to deepen the kiss. You gladly invited him in, happily tasting the sugar and chocolate still on his tongue. He pulled you impossibly close, the kiss intensifying with every second it was allowed to go on. You felt him start to pick you up, and for the first time you realized just how strong Chris was now.

You were the one to pull back, realizing that this was getting a little too intense for your front porch. Chris either wasn’t thinking about that or didn’t care, he tried to close the gap immediately, only to be stopped by your gentle hand on his chest.

“You wanna come inside for some coffee?” You asked.

He blinked, as if only now realizing the two of you were still outside. “I’d love to.”

You fumbled with the lock on your door, suddenly cursing yourself for your desire not to be robbed. The two of you stumbled inside once you got the door open. You threw the stuffed animal on the couch, Chris kicked the door closed and you both ripped your coats off. And before the two of you had the forethought to reconsider, your hands were on each other again, lips pressed together in a heated kiss. He picked you up, supporting your lower half with only one arm while the other kept your chest pressed firmly against his.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and for a second you thought he was about to take you on the couch. Not that you would have minded, but you were just as if not more happy when he started to make his way to your bedroom. He managed to make his way past your door, kicking it closed before turning around and pressing you to it.

The kiss started to migrate, from your lips down to your neck. A shiver ran through you as he found that sweet, soft spot on your neck. The one that always made you melt into nothing. “Fuck, Chris–” you moaned, fingers coming up to tug at his short hair.

“I love it when you say my name,” he muttered, coming up to recapture your lips. He held you up with his right arm, while his left hand drifted up and under your shirt. His hand was surprisingly warm, and welcomed against your chill skin. You almost didn’t notice when he found your bra clasp, effortlessly undoing, with one hand no less.

You felt your cheeks catch fire. “Oh!” You gasped, “You’ve definitely done that before.”

He gave you an almost bashful smile. “Once or twice,” he admitted. You didn’t know why that was so shocking to you. Maybe it was because Chris had never really had a long term partner in all the years you’d known him, but still. You had seen him take plenty of gorgeous girls and immaculate men home before.

No time to think about partners of lovers past. He moved to lay you down on the bed, pressing you into the soft mattress as he pressed his mouth to you. You could feel the tent in his jeans against your leg, filling you with anticipation. He pulled back long enough to take his shirt off and your mouth went dry. You knew Chris was fit, his job kept him that way, But knowing that fact and actively seeing it were two different things. He was beautiful; toned, well kept muscles flexing and somehow still defined under a soft layer of fat. Chris looked like a classic Greek statue, an Adonis that would have made Aphrodite herself blush.

And he was looking at you as if you were Venus, the very definition of beauty and grace. And you didn’t even have to take your shirt off! Still, he had put on a show so you might as well return the favor. You sat up and slipped your shirt off, your unclasped bra threatening to come off had you not caught it.

Chris’s breath caught in his throat as he took you in. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he huffed. What a poet.

“Yeah?” you asked, slowly letting your bra fall off your shoulders, tossing it to the side. Looking at Chris, you suddenly understood the phrase ‘fucking me with your eyes.’

He nodded. “Yeah.” It was the last thing he said before his mouth found your neck again, targeting the sweet spot that made you moan the loudest. He wanted to dig his teeth in there, leave a dark purple bruise for you to model for him in the morning. He wanted to– no he needed to mark you as his, undeniably his. He had waited for you for so long, it was only fair really.

You brought him back to reality by tugging softly at his hair, whimpering his name. He pulled back, admiring his work with a near wicked smirk. Good luck covering that up. “So fucking pretty,” he muttered, placing one last soft kiss to the mark, before kissing down your body. Down your neck, over your collar bone, through the peaks and valleys of your chest. Down your stomach, your hips, and finally along the waistband of your pants.

You lifted your hips up, eagerly inviting him to take them off. He was quick, undoing the button on your jeans before pulling them and your underwear down in one fluid motion. He pulled back, taking you all in. You watched the way his chest heaved with every breath, desire radiating off him in thick waves. It was warm in your room, and you watched as sweat started to bead on his chest and get caught in the hair there. Your eyes followed the thick happy trail down the waistband of his boxers, peeking out ever so slightly from above his jeans.

You wanted to pull them down with your teeth. Chris’s eyes met yours before you could though. “You look so much better than I ever could have imagined,” he groaned. You didn’t quite have time to unpack all of the implications of that before he was in between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him kiss the inside of your knee, looking at you with a dangerous fire in his eye that you had never seen from him before.

He kissed down your leg, nipping and leaving a trail of small marks in his wake as he moved to where you really needed him. He placed your knee over his shoulder as he scraped his teeth along the inside of your thigh. Finally, you could feel him hovering over your slit– felt his breath against your aching, wet, cunt. You braced for impact.

Just for him to skip right over it and go to kissing your other thigh. “Chris!” You snapped, “What the hell!?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows.

He just smirked at you from behind your thigh. “What?” he asked, tilting his head. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong?! Why didn’t you–” you waved your hand for emphasis. “You know.”

He definitely knew. “No, I don’t know.” he sighed. Liar. “Tell me what you want.”

You felt your face catch fire as you realized what he wanted you to do. “I–” you started, trying not to let your embarrassment over take you. “I want you.”

He hummed, considering your statement. “I’m right here doll,” he informed you, “You have me.”

You groaned in frustration. You had no fucking clue why you were struggling with this. You had never been the “blushing bride” trope before, and far from a prude. But, something about him specifically brought out a side of you that you weren’t entirely familiar with.

You were excited to get to know that side of you though. “ Chris, I need you,” you begged.

You watched his pupils flair with lust. That almost got him, but he stood firm. “Need me to what?”

Ah fuck being coy, this was getting frustrating. “Chris, please. I want your mouth so bad it fucking hurts. I need you, please, I wanna cum on your mouth so bad.”

It was like you had casted a spell on him. In an instant you felt his tongue finally licking a stripe up your slit, gathering all of the slick there. A sick sense of pride filled you when he moaned at your taste. You tasted like ambrosia to him, and he couldn’t get over just how wet and needy you were from kissing alone. It drove him mad.

You gasped as you felt him take your clit into his mouth, sucking on it sharply and rolling his tongue over the nub. Pleasure spiked through you, coursing its way through your core and to your head. One hand clenched the sheets while the other found the back of his head, pulling him closer to you. Your head fell back as you got lost in the bliss, every swipe of his tongue sending another wave of warmth through you.

Heat starts to pool and swirl in your lower stomach, and you don’t even care that the cheesy bastard is spelling out his name with his tongue against you. You almost think about how possessive that is, his need to paint his name across every inch of you.

Then you feel two of his thick fingers start to circle your cunt, and suddenly you're not thinking much of anything. Even the thought of higher thinking and functioning goes out the door as he presses his digits into you. The sound he pulls out of you is near embarrassing, but the stretch feels so electric that you can’t even think to care.

You feel his fingers curl up, searching for the golden soft spot inside of you. He’s meticulous, and it doesn’t take him long to find it, the gasp you give him coupled with your thighs clenching around his head telling him everything he needed to know. Target acquired. He angles his hand to better massage the spot.

A tight coil was wrapping in on itself in your lower stomach, so tight now it was threatening to snap. Electric waves of euphoria pulsed through you, stars started to form before your eyes. You felt your hips buck to meet his fingers, lost in the way his mouth worshiped your clit. Chris hit a perfect stride, one that made your legs shake.

“Fuck Chris, right there,” you gasped as if he hadn’t figured it out already. “Just like that, don’t stop.” And Chris, angel that he was, actually listened when you told him not to change anything, keeping the same pace and pattern– hitting a home run with just a few swipes of his tongue.

The coil inside you finally snapped, breaking open the dam and overflowing your senses with dopamine, oxytocin, and euphoria. Hot waves of bliss crashed into you, setting every single nerve ending you had on fire. You didn’t even notice Chris humping the mattress in a truly humbling display, acting like a teenager in his own desperate need for friction.

He didn’t stop either, gladly working you through your climax. He didn’t think he could have stopped even if he wanted to. He was drunk on your taste, high on your pleasure, and the fact that it was him making you feel this good. He groaned into you as he felt the way your cunt fluttered around his fingers, already imagining what it would feel like on his cock. He didn’t stop till you physically pushed him away, feeling overwhelmed.

Chris looked at you the way a hungry wolf looked at a rabbit; ravenous, and desperate to consume. To make every part of you a part of him. “You’re perfect,” he moaned as he closed the gap between the two of you. “And all fucking mine,” he added as he captured your lips in a demanding kiss, your taste still lingering on his tongue. There was a jealous edge to his voice, and you wondered if it had been there this whole time. You weren’t sure, but you were sure you liked the sound of it.

He pulled back, rutting his still clothed and painfully hard cock against you, needing some form of relief. “Say it,” He begged, “Say you’re mine.”

You didn’t even have to think twice. “I’m yours Chris. All yours. I think I always have been.” The sound that came from him was sinful, and he finally gave into himself; sitting up and undoing his belt. You sat up with him to finish the job, palming him through the fabric and taking a secret joy in the way he bucked into even your tiniest touch. You slowly undid the button holding his pants together.

You must have been too slow for him. He took over, pushing his jeans and boxers down and finally taking himself out. He moaned in relief, giving himself a few strokes to ease his discomfort. He didn’t notice your wide eyed, almost nervous stare. You were no virgin, you had handled your fair share of dicks, and handled them incredibly well in your humble opinion.

Chris was intimidating though. He wasn’t too much longer than most, but he was far thicker than the rest. It looked heavy, and curved slightly upward. The dark tip was already leaking and desperate for attention. For your attention.

He noticed you staring, saw the look on your face. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he promised. He knew he could be… a lot, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.

You swallowed the invisible lump in your throat. “I want to, it’s just… kind of intimidating.”

Chris nodded, understanding the apprehension. “We’ll go slow,” He promised, taking your hand and inviting you to get more well acquainted with his cock. You gladly took him up on the offer, taking him in your palm. You felt a sense of power at the way he shuddered under your touch, just as needy for you as you were for him.

You focused on the head, swiping your thumb over his leaking tip and using it to coat his dick. He moaned softly for you, making no move to hide how good even just your softest touch felt. You stroked his shaft, tracing out the prominent veins as he twitched in your hand. He wrapped an arm around your lower back, taking your free hand in his and bringing your wrist up for a kiss. All while bucking into your touch.

Such a soft act mixed with such an erotic scene sent a pulse of electricity to your core. Your soon-to-be-ex had never made you feel like this before. You gripped Chris slightly tighter, earning you a soft moan from him as you stroked his sensitive cock. He looked at you with hooded, lust filled eyes; emboldening you to pick up the pace.

His breath hitched in his chest, his dick twitched, he was clearly happy with the change. You watched his eyes flutter shut as he bucked his hips into your touch, building up a steady rhythm and getting lost in the sensation. You smirked at him, feeling proud of the way he melted into your hand. “Feel good?” You asked.

He huffed an almost laugh, “So good,” he confirmed, bucking into your grip, “You’re doing so good for me.” The praise went straight to your core and you bit your lip. Suddenly, all you wanted was to be good for him. You became more persistent, switching from long, languid strokes over his entire length to quick sharp motions that focused on the tip. You felt Chris shudder as he reached down, tips of his fingers teasing your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation, not fully expecting him to return the favor.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he chuckled. “We reward good behavior around here.” he said, massaging expert circles into you. You faltered, still sensitive from your previous climax. Your thighs twitched and you fell the short distance into Chris’s chest. Still, you may have fumbled a bit, but you didn’t forget the task at hand here.

Chris smirked, “Look at my pretty little doll, twitchy and needy and still trying to return the favor. Aren’t you just an angel?” The tone came out more condescending than he meant it too, but it wasn’t like you noticed. You just honestly really liked the sound of him talking.

He could tell just how much you liked it. “So fucking wet,” he continued, “And all for me. You’re going to feel so good wrapped around me, I can tell.” His voice was getting husky, thick with desire and you realized he was getting there with just your hand. You were getting close too, hips rocking against him, puffy clit catching on his palm. The stimulation mixed with his voice was intoxicating.

And as much as Chris would have loved to watch you cum all over his hand, he would have much rather watched you come apart on his dick instead. He pulled you close and nipped at your ear. “I need you,” he groaned.

“Need me to what?”

He almost laughed, “I need you to let me fuck that pretty little cunt until you can’t think about anything other than how good I feel inside of you.” You felt like you were on fire.

Well, since he asked so nicely. “Please,” you nodded.

Chris pulled your face to his, hand on the back of your head as he kissed you roughly before pressing your back into the mattress. He sat up above you, and swallowed roughly. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down and he took you in, admiring his work decorating your body with his teeth. There would be no denying he was here in the morning.

He grabbed your hips and placed himself in between your legs, spreading them to make room. He ran the thick tip of his cock along your slit, collecting the natural slick there. “Think you’re ready for me doll?” he asked. You nodded, the anticipation eating you alive as you braced yourself for him.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not going to work here baby. I wanna hear your pretty voice.”

How dare he. “Yes, Chris,” you nodded. “I'm ready.”

Chris grinned. “See? I knew you could speak.” You ignored the condescension in his tone, far more preoccupied with the feeling of him pressing inside you, stretching you out in all of the most beautiful ways. In all your years of friendship, you never imagined Chris would feel like this. You moaned out his name in an almost pathetic display of need, hands gripping the sheets so hard you would have been worried about ripping them if you weren’t so preoccupied.

Chris hissed through his teeth as he fought the need to shove himself entirely inside your warm, welcoming cunt. A part of him wanted to split you in half and fuck you for all that you were worth, to mold your pretty little pussy to his cock and ruin you for any other man. But another, much louder part of him wanted to make sure you were comfortable. At least for the first go around. So he went almost painfully slow, only taking as much as you would give.

You moaned as you tried to adjust to his size, tense both in apprehension and from the burn. He rubbed soothing circles into your hips, leaning down to press soft kisses into your jawline. “Come on baby,” he moaned as he kissed the shell of your ear, “relax for me.” His free hand reached down as he spoke, massaging slow, meticulous circles into your clit. Slowly, the pain started to subside, leaving you with nothing but the desperate need for him to fucking move.

“Chris,” you moaned, hand coming up to touch his back, hoping he’d get the message because you weren’t confident in your ability to say much other than his name.

Luckily, he knew exactly what you wanted, and slowly set a pace that left you reeling. “There ya go doll, that’s it,” he encouraged, angling his hips so he could hit that soft spot inside you, “Fuck, you feel so good, you’re doing so good for me.” He praised as he rocked his hips into yours, each thrust sending a new fresh wave of bliss throughout you. Your head felt like it was filled with stardust, and all you could focus on was his pretty voice and how perfectly he filled you.

He took one of your legs and placed it higher on his hip, knowing he got the angle right when he felt your nails dig into his taunt back, leaving pretty little red moons, and gasped out what may just have been the hottest sound he’d ever heard in his life. “Yeah?” he grinned. “Like that doll?”

He really needed to stop asking questions, you were going to start biting him about it. You nodded, rushing out a quick “yes,” and hoping that would be enough for him.

He chuckled almost darkly, leaning in to kiss you again. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me baby doll,” he groaned, picking up the pace and sending you into the stratosphere. “You’re taking me so good love, you’re so fucking perfect for me.”

Had you been more cognizant, you might have had the thought to unpack the latest pet name. Might. It didn’t quite matter though, because right now you were lost in a sea of euphoria, threatening to drown in a tsunami of dopamine. Your entire body felt like a livewire, electric and ready to snap, flying closer and closer to the edge with every perfectly timed rut of his hips.

Your other hand flew up to his hair, pulling probably harder than you actually meant to and still managing to pull a filthy moan from him. “Chris,” you whined. “Chris I’m close.”

He nodded, making sure not to change his pace or pressure, “Cum for me baby, please,” he begged. “Need it, need you.”

It was like your body was just instinctively waiting for permission, because the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth you felt yourself fly off the ledge, falling into a pit of oxytocin and dopamine, pleasure exploding through your every nerve ending to wreak you, and leave you shaking like the last leaves in fall. You were pretty sure you said, something? Or maybe he did? Honestly you were in no place to decipher words.

Your peak brought him to his own, the feeling of your perfect heat fluttering round him, seemingly pulling him impossibly deeper pulled him over the edge with you with one last thrust. He came hard inside of you, telling himself he couldn’t have pulled out if he tried and knowing even then he was lying to himself. He fucked you through both of your highs, not letting up until he physically had to stop. He managed to avoid collapsing on top of you, rolling you both over so he’d land beside you instead.

You both laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your shared sin while he peppered light kisses across your forehead. “You okay?” he asked gently.

“Never better,” you laughed, but it came out more like breathy little huffs.

He smiled adoringly at you as he brushed your hair out of your eyes. “Glad to hear it,” he muttered. You grimaced as he finally pulled out, almost feeling like you’d lost something. “Come on,” he muttered, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chris gave you a quick kiss before leaving the room, coming back with a warm rag and a water bottle. He helped you get cleaned up before gathering you in his arms again, propping you up on his chest while you tried to rehydrate. You took another drink before looking up at him. “Yes, you can light a smoke.”

Chris looked like he’d been caught in a crime. “What? I didn’t say anything about–”

“You didn’t have to,” you teased. “I can feel you getting twitchy, just smoke the cigarette.”

He looked relieved. “You sure you don’t mind?” Even as he asked he was reaching for his jeans. “I know you’re not a huge fan of the smell.”

You waved a hand at him. “Just don’t make a habit of it,” you said, pointing to an abandoned water bottle on your bedside. “There’s your ashtray.”

He pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his back pocket, throwing his pants back on the floor. He lit the smoke, throwing the lighter on your night stand before relaxing back on the bed, pulling you back to his side. You melted into him, closing your eyes and taking everything in.

The silence was comfortable this time, nothing like it was on the way back from the fair. Everything felt familiar and right. From the cigarette smoke to the soft beating of his heart, the entire scene felt like a snapshot from your future.

You thought that if you had ever crossed this line with Chris, it would be awkward– friendship ruining even. You were almost shocked to realize that, no actually, it didn’t feel like anything had changed.

It felt like this is where you were supposed to be the entire time. “So,” he finally asked, “What’s the plan?”

“What’s the plan?” You laughed, “The plan is leaving fuckface. And, well,” you looked up at him, “Hopefully we can explore whatever this is?”

Chris’s smile could have lit up an entire city. “Glad we’re on the same page,” he said, pulling you into another kiss. “Happy Valentine's Day, baby.”

#resident evil #chris redfield #Chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x reader smut #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x you #friends to lovers #Chris Redfield fluff #Chris redfield x reader fluff

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fandomsimagined · 1 year ago

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Don't Go Dark - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Title: Don't Go Dark

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Female!Reader

Summary: Kaz Brekker realizes that he has feelings for his healer.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: What you could expect from Six of Crows

A/N: This is my first time writing for Kaz, so if it's out of character, I apologize. I kind of gave up and phoned it in at the end so if you can tell, I'm sorry. Very loosely inspired by the song Don't Go Dark by Bleachers.

For most of his life, Kaz Brekker called the Barrel home–despite the fact that there was really nothing homey about it–and there was one thing that he knew for certain about the dreadful place: that it always had a tendency to contort even the purest of things into something nasty. No one was good-natured for the sake of it. If someone was kind, it was usually a ploy, as he very well knew. That was one of his first lessons in survival. Love was a weakness that oftentimes had disastrous consequences. The only thing to come from the Barrel was carnage. The currency was blood, and he’d paid his share and then some with his own, and with others. Only the most ruthless and ungodly people prospered, and prosper he did.

Believe it or not, he did remember the short life he had before the Barrel. He remembered his father and their farm, and he remembered after his father died when Jordie sold the farm with the promise that they would find fortune in Ketterdam. That was when he’d learned the most valuable lesson that there was to learn. That the only person he could truly count on was himself. To love nothing and trust no one. If he loved nothing, then there was nothing to be used against him. Nothing that anyone could take from him. It got lonely, but it had kept him alive for this long, a feat not many accomplished, so that was how he lived.

She was different. She didn’t live under the same guise of violence as the rest of Ketterdam. She didn’t have the same mentality: that things can always–and most likely will–get worse. She didn’t hold grudges. Not like Kaz did. Kaz was fueled by vengeance and spite. He took whatever was thrown at him in stride with the knowledge that he would find vindication by dealing a much harsher punishment.

The winter chill bit to the bone, an unfortunate truth for Kaz especially, whose bones were already not in well-working order. His limp was more pronounced as he made his way to his office (formerly Haskell’s). The Dregs were still bustling about, doing Saints knows what, but none would bother him. It was late, the state of his face was less pristine than when he’d left, and his permanent scowl was even more noticeable than usual. No, they would leave him be.

The meeting with the Razorgulls had gone as well as he’d expected, which was not well at all. They weren’t too happy to see him, still holding a grudge over Pekka Rollins’ quite unfortunate downfall. They’d landed a couple of punches, but he always had the upper hand, and they were smart enough when it was over to abandon Fifth Harbor entirely.

His office door was slightly ajar, something that didn’t bode well. He knew that the healer would be waiting for him, but she was never so careless to leave the door open, as there were quite a few documents and collectibles that he preferred to keep away from the other Dregs.

He pushed the rickety door open and immediately he could feel that something was off. She was sitting in the extra wooden chair that he kept there (mostly for her and Jesper since he rarely gave anyone else the privilege to stay in his office for long periods). He sat in his desk chair, his gloved fingers thumbing through the papers that he’d left. Nothing important, just something to keep him occupied.

Kaz Brekker noticed everything; meaning that Kaz Brekker noticed her trembling hands, though she tried to disguise it by keeping them folded in her lap. He noticed her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks that she’d tried to hide, and he noticed that she was jumpier than usual. Something had happened, that much was obvious, but he wouldn’t push. If she wanted to talk, she would, otherwise, it was none of his concern. Though, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger at the mere idea of anything happening to her.

“Again? Kaz, you really should be more careful.” It was no surprise that she was born a healer. It was quite literally in her nature to be caring. She was born to fix things.

“Why? If I were to die tomorrow, all of Ketterdam would breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe even cheers to the occasion,” Kaz scoffed. It sounded grim, but it meant that he was good at what he did, so he saw it as an honor of sorts. He was in control.

“I wouldn’t.” She frowned. She moved to stand above him, getting leverage so she could properly heal his face. Her lips were pursed in concentration as her fingers hovered over a gash on his cheek. It was a strange feeling. It was like he could feel the skin stitching back together as she worked. It was like an itch. “I quite like having you around.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Kaz raised his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What are you getting at? A raise?”

“Oh please, why would I even bother trying to flatter you?” She rolled her eyes. “Not when I know all I have to do is compliment Jesper’s hat, give him a few kruge to gamble away, and he’ll talk you into whatever I want.”

“And here I thought that you were too soft for the Barrel.” Kaz smirked.

“I’m serious, what are you going to do if I’m not around to fix you up?”

He thought about the statement carefully. The implication of the words. That was the confirmation he needed to push for further information. She’d opened the door. “Are you planning on going somewhere?” Maybe that’s why she was acting so strange. She seemed like the type to get all weepy about leaving. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea himself. It would be harrowing work trying to find a new healer. Especially a trustworthy one, but he wouldn’t stop her if that’s what she wanted. He just wouldn’t pretend to be happy about either.

“No!” She exclaimed quickly. “No, of course not.” Her quick response and furrowed brow were a relief. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. Not yet, anyway.

“Well, if you’re not planning on leaving, then I suppose I don’t have to worry about it then, do I?” Kaz spoke bluntly, though he supposed if she listened close enough, she would hear the twinge of satisfaction hidden beneath. It was selfish. Ketterdam was a grim place, but he didn’t want her to leave. She made it a little less grim.

Her fingers moved eloquently, drifting over his broken nose, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her palm. It did him well not to think about how close she was to him. It would probably send him into fight-or-flight mode if he did.

He winced as he felt the bone setting back into place. It was nothing that hadn’t happened before, though he wasn’t sure that he would ever get used to the damn itch that plagued the area as she was working her magic. That wasn’t what bothered him, though. What bothered him was that she hadn’t spoken again, something that was quite unlike her. Normally she would be scolding him or telling him all about whatever had happened at the Crow Club that afternoon. No, she hadn’t spoken and she hadn’t provided any elaboration to her previous statement.

“Is everything alright?” He pressed further. If it was anyone else, he would’ve left it be. A problem for another day, but this wasn’t anyone else.

“No… I mean…” She started and paused, turning to face the wall to her side as if avoiding looking at him. He was relieved that she wasn’t planning on leaving the Dregs just yet, but there was something bothering her and he couldn’t deny being slightly concerned about what it was. Had something happened at the club while he was gone? Surely one of the others downstairs would have mentioned something to him when he walked in if it had. But, there was no way to be sure.

She turned back to face him, taking a shaky breath as if trying to figure out what to say. “This afternoon while I was on my way to the club, a man grabbed me. Put a knife to my throat and said that if I didn’t give him all of my kruge, then he would slit my throat, watch me bleed out, and then take it all anyways. It wasn’t even much, just seventeen, but he was willing to kill me for it.” He clenched his jaw as she recounted the story. He wouldn’t interrupt, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t already plotting on what he would do when he found the bastard. She reached up to fiddle with the necklace chain that she always wore, but it was missing. He’d taken her locket too.

“I was sure he would kill me even if I gave it to him, I saw his face for Saints’ sake, but I just… It made me think about if something had happened to me, then who would be here to make sure that you didn’t get yourself killed? I mean, you’ve almost done it several times with me here and I’m one of the best healers in Kerch, not to pat myself on the back or anything…” She was one of the best healers in Kerch. That was why he’d recruited her in the first place, and that was why she was under his protection. Though, he thought that she might’ve been exaggerating. He was pretty sure, he only almost died twice, and only once was his fault.

“Who was it?” Kaz said through gritted teeth. It was unlikely that it was anyone from a rival gang. It wasn’t a secret that she was associated with the Dregs and they weren’t stupid. Pulling a stunt like that would start a war, especially since it was in Fifth Harbor. That was his territory. No, the only one that bold would be the Dime Lions, but they would’ve killed her to send a message. This was probably some random person off of the street if he had to guess. Looking for a quick buck, so they thought why not steal it? What they didn’t know was that they’d stolen it from the wrong woman.

“Kaz-”

“Who was it?” He repeated.

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, that I might not be here next time you decide to go and get yourself all bloodied up, and what if it’s more serious next time?” He didn’t like the way that she was talking so casually about the prospect of dying. Like it was inevitable, and she was making her final arrangements before she went.

“Listen to me carefully. Nothing’s going to happen to you because I won’t let it.” It was a statement not a question. He would make sure to get the message across that not only was she associated with the Dregs, but she was under the protection of Dirtyhands himself, and he would make sure to send a very clear warning as to what would happen should anyone get the bright idea to lay a finger on his crew again.

“You’re not always going to be there to protect me, Kaz. We all know it’s only a matter of time. People like me don’t make it very long here. I’m not strong, or smart, or resourceful enough…” Her eyes were glassy, trying to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. He was confused. None of those things could have been farther from the truth. She may have been soft, sure, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t smart or strong. She had to be strong to have put up with him for so long. He wasn’t known to be the most facile person in the world.

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” Kaz’s voice was gravelly. It was rough. In fact, he’d often heard it described as the voice of a demon, or the devil himself. There was nothing soothing about it, yet he saw her shoulders slump in what seemed to be relief. That even though the Saints had never looked out for her, he would.

She didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. That was that. There was nothing left to be said. He didn’t make promises that he didn’t intend to keep. He lied, he stole, he killed, but he didn’t break his promises. And there wasn’t a promise that he ever intended to keep more than that one.

She silently worked on mending the split on his cheek. The Razorgulls had gotten a couple of good shots in. More than he thought, and he was starting to feel it, though he wouldn’t for long.

“Stay at the Slat tonight.” He finally broke the silence. She didn’t live far, but clearly she wasn’t safe and he couldn’t have that.

“What?” She shot him a puzzled look. It was seemingly out of the blue, and he didn’t exactly give much room for any discussion.

“I want you to stay at the Slat tonight. It’s late, you shouldn’t walk home in the dark.”

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Kaz perused the selection at Alwynn’s pawn shop. When he’d noticed that her necklace had been stolen, he knew that it had probably ended up in a pawn shop somewhere. No one stole jewelry off of ladies on the street to wear. No, clearly he needed money.

He’d expected to have to go to more than one shop to find any relevant information, but no. It was almost too easy. He’d spotted the necklace on a display in the front of the store. He recognized it immediately. The dainty gold chain could’ve easily been confused, but the locket that dangled from it, couldn’t be.

“Mr. Brekker, I didn’t think of you as the jewelry type,” Alwynn gave a short laugh.

“Well, Alwynn, there are quite a few things you don’t know about me.”

“That, I’m sure of.”

“How much did you buy it for?” Kaz inquired.

“Bought it for twenty-five. Selling it for forty-two.” Kaz wasn’t surprised. Alwynn had always been a crook.

“Who brought it in?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say. Merchant-client privilege, I’m sure you understand.” Alwynn appeared nervous now. Good.

“I’ll pay double the price.”

Alwynn thought for a moment. “His name’s Griffin. He came in yesterday afternoon. He’s been staying in the alley beside Burke’s.”

“Thank you, Alwynn. It’s been a pleasure as always.” He was well aware that he probably could’ve stolen the necklace or threatened him without spending the kruge, but he decided to, for once, pick his battles. He slid over the proper amount of kruge before making his way to the door.

Kaz found Griffin exactly where Alwynn said he would be.He’d clearly been staying there, the pile of rags on the ground and empty bottles were scattered beside them. He almost felt sorry for him. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Kaz approached Griffin, making his presence known. The man, probably around twenty or so, must have been at least a little intelligent, because his expression was a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Good evening Griffin,” Kaz crooned. “You know, I heard from a close source of mine that you met a lady around this area yesterday afternoon.”

“I meet a lot of ladies around here.” Griffin scoffed.

“Well, this particular lady said that you threatened her. Stole her money and a necklace. Surely you would remember that. Unless, you make a habit out of stealing from women. Do you?”

“What?”

“Do you only target women to pay for your alcohol addiction, or was this particular lady just a special case?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered.

“How much did you take?” Kaz growled, ignoring the obvious lie that had escaped from his mouth. He didn’t need an answer. He already knew. 17 kruge and her necklace (which he’d gotten thirty-five for at the shop), but he wanted to hear him admit it.

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even if Kaz didn’t already know he was lying, it wouldn’t have been hard to tell. The sweat beading at his forehead, the way his eyes darted, the fact that he had around fifty-two kruge worth of bottles at his feet. It was too easy.

“This wouldn’t happen to jog your memory would it?” Kaz held the chain out. Griffin’s face went pale. It was as if all of the color had simply vanished. “So, I’ll ask again: how much did you take?”

“Not a lot, just seventeen kruge, and I’ll-”

“You’ll pay it back. In fact, you’re going to pay back the seventeen that you stole, the eighty-four I had to pay to buy the necklace back from the crook you sold it to, and an extra thirty kruge for making me get out in this dreadful cold to track down you and this necklace.” Kaz felt it to be a fair trade. For him at least.

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Well, I suggest that you find it before the week is out. Paid in full, and after that, I don’t want to see you back in Fifth Harbor again, and if I do, I’ll make sure that you end up at the bottom of the Harbor.” He turned to walk back towards the street, but he turned back before he got there. He swung his cane, hard, at Griffin’s right hand–his dominant one–earning a howl of pain. “Next time you decide to steal jewelry from a woman on the street, I would suggest selling it to a shop that’s not only a few feet away from where you’re staying.”

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“What’s this?” She looked puzzled at the pouch of kruge that he’d dropped on the table in front of her. Kaz didn’t answer, and realization flooded over her face. “Kaz…” she gave him a stern look. “You didn’t kill him, did you? I would feel really guilty if you killed him.”

“Relax, I didn’t kill him.” Kaz scowled. “But, he won’t be bothering you or anyone else around Fifth Harbor anymore.”

“That really makes it sound like you killed him…”

“I did not kill him. I simply reminded him that it’s not very polite to threaten women.” Kaz rolled his eyes. “Besides, if I’d killed him, I wouldn’t have gotten this back, would I?” He draped the gold chain over his gloved fingers. It was beside the point that he’d found the necklace before he’d found Griffin, and that he could’ve easily gotten it back had he killed him. She didn’t need to know that.

“You got my locket back?” She gasped in disbelief. She took the chain, eyes wide. “How? Wait…” she paused. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“I’ll have you know that you’re missing out on quite the lovely story, then,” Kaz teased.

“I’m sure. I think it’ll be far lovelier if I never find out, though.” She chuckled. “Because something tells me it involved some of your more extreme measures.”

“Not extreme enough if you ask me. He got to keep all of his fingers. You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re making me soft.”

“Thank you.” She offered him a gracious smile.

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Kaz had never been one to fear others. He was fairly confident in his ability to fight his way out of a skirmish, should one come up, so why would he? He’d fought off far more men than the three in front of him on his own. What could he have to fear?

He had never been afraid, but all it took was a few goddamn words and his blood turned to ice. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to that healer of yours, wouldn’t it?” A threat. A barely subtle attempt at one. In any other case, he probably would’ve laughed it off. Come up with some witty response. He didn’t have it in him. What if it wasn’t a bluff?

“If you touch her, I swear to you, I’ll gut you,” Kaz snarled. It wasn’t the smartest move. Now, there was no doubt that he cared. That they could use her against him.

“The Bastard of the Barrel does have a heart, eh?” Rowell sneered. His last encounter with the Razorgulls hadn’t ended as smoothly as he’d hoped. They’d gone searching on him. Trying to find–well he supposed they did–find leverage. They’d finally found Kaz Brekker’s weakness.

The words echoed through Kaz’s head. “Rowell, if you touch her, I can always pay a visit to Broad Street. I seem to recall that’s where your wife and daughter are? If I find out any of your men touched my healer, I’ll put a bullet in their heads myself.” He was good for it. Rowell knew it. He had never been above killing, and that was when he didn’t have something to lose.

Rowell’s face contorted in alarm. Kaz knew where his family was. Kaz had just as much leverage as he did. The only difference was Kaz was far more ruthless than Rowell ever imagined.

“You may think you’ve found my weakness, Rowell, and maybe you have, but you should know by now that I don’t respond well to threats. If you’re going to do something, do it. Otherwise don’t waste my time and your breath just telling me about it.” With that, Kaz began his trek back to the Slat. For the first time in quite a long time, he was scared. They could very well call his bluff. By this point, Rowell could have already gotten to her by now. He’d spent so much of his time focusing on protecting her from the Barrel, that he’d forgotten that association with Kaz Brekker was the biggest threat of all.

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It had been weeks since Rowell’s threat. He hadn’t taken it lightly. He didn’t think Rowell was brave enough to do anything, but if he’d noticed, it was only a matter of time before others would too, if they hadn’t already.

He’d decided to keep his distance. That was the only way he knew how to keep her safe. Kaz Brekker was the most feared man in the Barrel because he had nothing to lose. If it came out that he did in fact care for anything… well he had a lot of enemies that would waste no time doing everything in their power to take it from him.

He’d been avoiding her altogether. She was hurt. He knew that. It was better for her to be hurt than dead.

He was making his way up the stairs to his study, ready to shut himself for the night to plan for the upcoming job he’d secured. It was nothing big, probably him, Jesper, and a couple of the newer recruits for the Dregs. Test their loyalty before anything major.

He saw her near the bar talking to Jesper, laughing at something he’d said. He swiftly turned away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Xavier (ironically one of the new recruits he was planning to take) grab at her waist. He was quite intoxicated, slurring a remark that he couldn’t hear, but was almost certainly derogatory. She politely pushed him aside, muttering a soft ‘no thank you’, but Xavier wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Kaz didn’t even have time to think, really. He didn’t have to think. It was instinct. He ignored the pain in his leg and crossed the room. He’d never been the biggest fan of Xavier, so he didn’t feel too guilty about the punch that landed on the boy’s jaw. His knuckles throbbed from the contact, but he ignored it. When Xavier offered to try and return the blow, Kaz dodged the jab and cracked his cane over his back.

“This is a respectable establishment, and that means when a woman says ‘no’ that’s the end of the discussion.”

Kaz avoided her gaze, and made his way up to his study, but he was followed.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Kaz muttered, sitting in his chair, finally resting his leg.

“You’ve spent weeks acting like I don’t exist, and now you’re getting in bar fights to defend me? And what? You’re just going to go back to ignoring me?” She was hardly a confrontational person, so Kaz knew that she was angry by the sudden outburst. “I don’t get it. What did I do to make you decide that you hate me?”

Surely she didn’t really believe that he hated her. “I don’t hate you.” He still didn’t look up.

“So, what is it then?” She was blinking back tears. He felt guilty, a feeling that he didn’t even know he was capable of.

“You seriously don’t get it?”

“No, I don’t get it!” She shouted.

“I care about you!” He blurted. “Far more than I should.” His confession earned a scoff. “You don’t believe me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “No, I don’t believe you. Why would I?”

“Why? What would I possibly have to gain from lying to you about that?”

“I don’t know, but I never know anything with you!”

“Fine, if you don’t believe me, then go. If you think I’m lying then why are you still here?” He didn’t believe that she didn’t believe him. She wasn’t stupid. He knew she wasn’t.

“I just want to know why! Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I already told you the truth, so what do you want from me?” Kaz suddenly felt defensive. “I care about you, and people noticed. Rowell threatened you straight to my face, and I realized that if people thought that you meant anything to me, then they’d come after you. They’d kill you to get to me, and that can’t happen.”

“So, it was that easy then? You got scared that someone was going to come after me so you decided to just stop caring? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“That is not what I said. What I said was that if they thought that you were important to me, they would come for you. I never said that meant I stopped caring.” Kaz huffed. “This is the only way that I can be sure you’re safe.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I have a stake in this too?” She was letting the tears fall freely now. “I don’t care who comes after me.”

“I can’t lose you.” Kaz shook his head.

“You don’t have to.”

“I can’t guarantee that people won’t come for you. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I haven’t exactly made a good reputation my priority.” Kaz attempted a joke, but really it served more as a warning. A glimpse into what being close to him would entail, which would mean always looking over your shoulder.

“Believe it or not, I have actually caught on to that part…” She let out a soft chuckle.

He reached up, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. He took the opportunity to rest his gloved hand on her cheek. He felt his body tense. His hand fell. Flashes of the nightmare that he’d endured. Jordie’s cold grey skin. The smell of waterlogged rotten flesh. It was as if he was back in the harbor. Surrounded by nothing but death and decay.

She seemed to notice his ordeal. Concern flashed through her eyes. “Are you feeling alright, Kaz?” He’d never told her about his brother. He’d never told anyone, really. As far as he was concerned, Kaz Rietveld had died in that harbor, but that wasn’t all true. If it had, he wouldn’t be damn near hyperventilating because he’d touched her. It was stupid. He was stupid. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. She probably thought he’d lost his mind.

“I think you need to rest,” she suggested. “I’ll run downstairs and grab you some water, I’ll be right-”

“No.” His voice came out hoarse.

“Kaz, you look like you’re about to pass out, I think you should drink something.”

“I want you to stay.” He sounded needy like a child and he hated it, but he also meant every word. “Please stay.” He grabbed her hand. Only this time, it was easier. He wasn’t thinking about death and despair. He wasn’t thinking about Jordie. He was thinking about her.

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