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bajicantspell · 9 months ago

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Kodzuken in my DMs ❕

Summary: Kenma trying (and failing) to make a move → Warnings: cursing (Fluff) 🎧 This is part one, although both can be read as a one shot Part two right here

Despite his dislike for being recognized in public and the inevitable social interactions that fame entails, he couldn't deny that it came with its advantages. For starters, living in a big house in his early twenties wasn’t something he could complain about. Sure, it might have been just a rental and not in Roppongi Hills, but that wasn't due to any financial constraints; he simply chose not to. Kenma couldn't complain, he loved helping his loved ones. Whether it was sponsoring his friend's volleyball career or paying off his parents' debt, it felt nice to be useful.

Honestly he never expected himself to get this far this early in his life. It really felt like one day he was streaming in his old room for the ten people that happened to join and the next day he’s a ceo of a company.

However, one thing that Kenma anticipated to be much easier, but found it wasn't, was dealing with women. Its not like the requests weren’t piling up; it seemed like every hour there was a new girl in his requests offering him everything lewd imaginable.

Sure, meaningless sex could be nice once in a while, but lately he’s been feeling very lonely. Kuroo was always working, his parents lived far away, Hinata was in fucking Brazil. Aside from calls with them and the occasional visits, tedious work meetings, and interactions in his stream chat, he had no contact with anyone. Kenma also considered that it might be FOMO, but the fact that he had never had a girlfriend didn't help. In high school, he avoided women at all costs. In college, he went on a few dates, but nothing serious came of them—just one okay-ish hookup. Then he went viral, and dating became harder, because it seemed every conversation ended up being about him and his internet presence.

Kenma sighed while scrolling through another dating app. Everytime he matched with someone and the first message they’d sent was “OMFG ARE YOU KODZUKEN” he wanted to smash the phone screen just a little more. Giving up, he sank deeper into his gaming chair, taking a few deep breaths. He needed to be relaxed for the stream he was about to start.

If you could tell your awkward-ugly-duckling middle school self that you would one day have nearly ten thousand Instagram followers just for being pretty, she would have laughed in your face. Though you were extremely grateful, it wasn't as if your life was substantially different from anyone else's. You don’t get payed for posting, you’re still a regular university student, and aside from the occasional scammy sponsorship offer that you always turned down (and the creepy men asking you to start an OnlyFans), there wasn’t anything outstandingly different about your life.One thing you did brag about to your friends, however, was that the famous streamer Kodzuken had been following you for a couple of months now. Part of you was convinced it was accidental though, since he never watches any stories or interacts with any posts. Bummer, you thought he’s really cute.

“I’m gonna buy a fucking gun and shoot myself” Kenma complained to Kuroo during their weekly call.

“You say while wiping your tears with money”

“Oh fuck off, I’m serious! I tried everything. I swear I’ll resort to just fucking my hand for the rest of my life”

Kuroo snickered, then he started thinking of solutions for his lonely friend. “Okay, instead of being a drama queen in her fucking castle lets try to be reasonable. What have you tried so far?”

Kenma sighed, “Mostly dating apps to be honest. Ain’t working. Also checked my requests and they all sound like the plots to a bad porno.”

“Seriously? Like what?” Kenma could hear Kuroo’s smug smile through the phone.

“Dude there was one where she offered to lick my toes. Not gonna lie it was tempting.” Kenma joked, earning a loud laugh from Kuroo.

“Damn, living the dream. Anyway, have you tried making a move though? Cause what I’m getting from this is you expecting the woman of your dreams to fall from the sky.”

“How could i even do that? Can’t go outside without a crowd following me around. Can’t imagine a girl who feels comfortable getting hit on by a dude with an army behind him.” Kenma sighed.

“I didnt mean that dumbass, I know that. I mean like shooting your shot through social media or something. There must be at least one babe that cought your eye.” Kuroo reasoned.

Kenma paused and thought for a moment, his cheeks flushing the slightest shade of pink.

“Well there is one…”

“Oh yea? Who?” Kuroo smirked.

“She’s not like, famous or anything, which I like. It’s @(youruser). Found her a couple of months ago. Physically she’s exactly my type, like everything is exactly what i like in a girl; face, body, hair, style, the whole shtick. Followed her a couple of months ago, didnt have the courage to say anything though.” Kenma nervously explained.

“I say send her something, what’s the worst that can happen? Getting rejected? So what? Then you move on.”

“I don’t know…I think she’s really pretty, shooting my shot and then messing up means it’d be weird to still follow her. Don’t wanna make her uncomfy. She doesn’t post anything crazy, just selfies and outfit inspo, but she’s so fucking cute in every pic and video, drives me crazy.” Kenma sheepishly smiled.

“Even if she does turn you down if you’re nice about it I doubt she’ll be uncomfortable. I say do it.”

Kenma sighed, knowing Kuroo was right. He opened Instagram and searched for your profile, keeping the call with Kuroo active in case you replied quickly.

*ding*

You were in the middle of doing some coursework when your phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, you expected it to be a new follower. Your eyes went wide when you realized the notification said ‘@kodzuken wants to send you a message’.

No fucking way, you thought.

You anxiously unlocked your phone, your focus completely shifting from your studies.

What you didnt know is that an equally anxious Kenma was patiently waiting for at least a ‘seen’ with his best bud on the line.

You opened the message.

Kodzuken: Hey :)

Your finger hovered over the keyboard of your phone for just a second before replying.

You: Hiiiii

You cringed at your reply, it seemed to childish and dry at the same time.

Kenma didnt think so, he was too busy panicking over the fact that you replied. Maybe he never got over his social anxiety after all.

“Dude she replied.” He said, not fully believing himself.

“Damn, that was fast,’ Kuroo smirked, ‘I’ll leave you lovebirds alone, gotta catch up on some work stuff. Talk to you later!”

“Wait Kuro don’t-” before Kenma could finish his sentence the call was over.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance- “Asshole”, he mumbled.

He stared at the screen, unable to muster the courage to type anything. It was then that he realized this might be the first time he truly liked a girl, due to the anxious feeling that had left him since high school. With trembling fingers unable to type anything, he sighed and set his phone down, promising himself he would reply in an hour. However, that hour stretched into several, and then two days passed. He felt insanely pathetic.

Kenma was on call with Kuroo again, Kuroo couldn’t stop complaining about the shitty meeting he had the day before.

“He was such an asshole, fucking bastard rolled his eyes everytime my colleagues and I talked. Like shut the fuck up. If you hate your job this fucking much at least don’t bring misery into ours.”

Kenma could only hum in response, preoccupied with setting up for his stream while his mind was flooded with self-critical thoughts.

Kuroo noticed the uncharacteristic response from his best friend- If there was one thing Kenma loved, it was shit talk, and Kuroo knew that all too well from years and years of friendship with him, and the countless brutalities that Kenma would throw at him and others he was comfortable with. He would point out things in such a monotone way, you couldn’t even be mad. Kenma was a hater to his core, so not hearing even a snicker from the other side of the line was concerning.

“Hey man, are you okay?” He asked.

“Yea its whatever.”

Kuroo suspected what this might be about.

“So uh.. how did things with the girl go?”

“They didn’t fucking go.” Kenma let out a huff of laughter through his nose, tinged with self-pity.

“Hm? How come?”

“I panicked and left her on seen. And I highly doubt I can recover that now. Like what am I gonna say? Hi sorry I left you on seen even though I texted you first, I’m just too fucking high and mighty to reply.”

“Well definitely don’t say that.” Kuroo joked.

“I seriously fumbled. Fuck,” Kenma muttered just loud enough for Kuroo to hear, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay, man. These things happen,” Kuroo said empathetically, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Everyone fucks up sometimes. You just need to give yourself a break.”, though he didnt get a response from the overthinker.

“You’re gonna start a stream soon yea?” Kuroo changed the subject, he knew that the best way to make Kenma feel better was to distract him or piss him off a little. The second part was coming later.

“Yea, almost done setting up. Gonna start in five.”

“I might stay and watch a little today, I’m off work for the weekend.”

“Kay, I’m gonna hang up now. ‘Bout to start.”

You checked the chat a couple of times during those two days, though the bitter ‘seen’ never changed. You couldn’t lie, you were a little disappointed. You didnt know much about video games, but you enjoyed his streams once in a while. He was a bit of a celebrity crush for you.

It was the weekend, and with not much to do, you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram stories to kill time. You stumbled upon Kodzuken’s story, it was a picture of his monitor, with the text “streaming” and a link to his twitch. Although you were disappointed with the outcome of your “conversation”, you thought it couldn’t hurt watching for a bit.

You clicked the link, and as you entered the stream, the first thing you noticed was his not-so-happy expression. His chat was filled with messages asking if he was okay.

You watched for a little bit, nothing particularly special happening.

As you were about to click off, Kenma snapped at his chat. "Guys, I'm fine! Please stop asking." The irritation in his voice was evident. Despite his words, the tone of his voice betrayed him, revealing a hint of underlying frustration or perhaps even distress.

Another autogenerated voiced question popped on the screen, something that happens with every donation. “Okay man! Whatever it is, don’t worry, we won’t nag you.” The robotic tone of the voice did little to mask the genuine concern behind the words.

Kenma’s shoulders tensed for a moment before he forced a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he muttered, the frustration in his voice easing slightly. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I appreciate it, really. Let’s just focus on the game, okay?”

You decided to stay for just a little longer, puzzled at the unfamiliar demeanor of the famous streamer.

A few minutes go by, and another donation followed by the familiar robotic voice “@KUROROROTETSU : don’t mind him he fumbled the insta baddie”

Your cheeks flushed for just a second though you were quickly brought back to reality by the man on the screen in front of you.

“Fucking kill yourself. Like I’m not even kidding I need you dead on my doorstep.” Kenma cursed to distract you the audience from his embarrassment, his eyebrows furrowed and a huge shit eating grin plastered on his face.

The chat started blowing up with laughs and ‘Kodzu’s back guys’

Kenma added, “before anyone cancels me that was my best friend of twenty years, don’t take the clip out of context.” He laughed.

Your favorite comment was someone saying “guys kodzu gets not bitches he’s just like me fr”, it made you let out a small giggle.

You debated with yourself, engaging in a mental monologue. ‘If I send him a message and it turns out to be about me, that’s the best case scenario. The worst case is completely humiliating myself in front of someone really famous,’ you reasoned.

You decided that a little embarrassment was a risk worth taking this time.

Kenma continued playing as usual, engaging and laughing with his audience. He felt his phone buzz and saw the screen light up beside him.

@(youruser) : for the record, I don’t think you fumbled me <3

He glanced at the screen, reading the notification, and immediately turned beet red. His heart raced as he processed the message. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the camera, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment, as if he were looking directly at you through the screen.

“I uh.. hold on guys i need to reply to this for a second.” He said as he proceeded to pause metal gear solid.

Your screen was still open to your chat, and a surge of excitement ran through you when you saw the telltale indicator that he was typing.

Kodzuken : holy shit I’m so sry, didn’t know you were watching

(Youruser) : ahahah dw its fine

Kodzuken : can I text you after I’m done? Totally fine if u don’t wanna tho

Well it wasn’t totally fine, he really hoped you’d say yes.

(Youruser) : I’ll be waitiiiing :)

Needless to say, that was the longest a stream had ever felt. He could hardly wait to finish so he could talk to you; properly this time.

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

part two right here , also i found these banners on Pinterest, if anyone knows who made these pls lmk so i can give credit

#kenma smut #kenma x reader #hq kenma #kenma kuzome #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo testuro #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #kenma drabble #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #haikyuu dumpster battle #kodzuken

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astrae4 · 1 year ago

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THROW HIM AWAY! | Han Yujin

IN WHICH yujin wants to cuddle you, but you want to cuddle mr. carrot. A Valentine’s Special

FEATURING Zerobaseone’s Han Yujin and you, a highschool au

WARNINGS: kissing and sugar sweet nicknames

NOTE: Happy Valentines everyone! Here is for my jebewon readers and Yujin stans. Love you all (muah muah muah 💋) and please help me reblog hehe~ it’s my first time writing for zb1 so tell me if you want more works for them in the future!!

MORE WORKS: navigation | zb1!masterlist

IF THERE WAS ONE THING you treasured more than your stash of shoes, it would be the stuffed bunny doll that Yujin gave you during his confession. A pink, soft plush (you named him Carrot) with a white bow wrapped around its neck. You still remembered the day he gave it to you, after school with trembling hands as he rapped out his confession, eyes looking everywhere but you. You remember accepting it shyly, face feeling hot as it implied that you like him back.

That was three months ago.

Now, it seems that you grew very attached to the doll, not being able to sleep without it. So much so that you brought it with you during your Valentine's sleepover with Yujin.

Yujin had begged asked his mother to let him invite you to his house for a sleepover as his valentines day surprise. You were excited, and thankfully, your parents had let you come. The day was perfect in your eyes. You arrived in the evening and played video games with him and his brother until dinner time. Then, you had dinner with his parents. After, you and Yujin washed the dishes before finally having alone time together.

He had surprised you with strawberries covered in chocolate that he made himself (it tasted questionable 😨 but you still ate it, silently praying that you won’t end up in the toilet bowl) and gave you a small bouquet of flowers. (it was the last of his money but he’d never admit it)

You kind of almost teared up, thanking him by giving the boy a kiss on his cheek.

After, you played seventeen matches of uno and two matches of scrabble (Yujin rage quitted scrabble which was why you played uno so many times) before it was time to sleep.

”Can I have the right side—”

”Sure, now cuddle me,” he said impatiently, opening his arms.

Unfortunately for him, luck wasn’t on his side.

”Okay, but—” you took out Carrot, “Carrot goes in the middle.”

“Are you kidding me.” (the boy was like🧍🏻🙁)

“What.”

“Why are you holding that, we’re about to cuddle.”

“Are you rejecting Carrot right now, Yuyu? He’s our child.”

”Throw him away!”

”NO 😠��!”

“He can live without hugging you tonight, it’s supposed to be just you and me..”

“Well, I can’t live without him.”

Yujin dead stared at you, before pulling the covers over his head and back-facing you. Oh..he was sulking alright. You looked at him, then at Carrot, and sighed.

“But I guess I can’t live without you most..so Carrot can sleep alone tonight..”

You could literally hear the gear in his head run as he peaked his head out of the blanket, giving you his boba eyes.

“Really?” He asked.

You set Carrot aside, going under the blanket and sandwiching him in a hug immediately, “yeah.”

He let out a noise of complaint, but you knew that he was enjoying it most since he didn’t retaliate and hugged you back, burying his face in your head. (Thank goodness you used your peach shampoo today)

A bit of silence passed as you basked in his warmth before you broke it, face looking up at him.

“Yujin.”

He let out a hm? as a reply.

“Happy valentines, love you.”

He looked at you with lovesick eyes before giving the fastest smooch (peck) in the lips. You were shocked, and he was 😼 because he was very proud of doing that.

The boy let out a giggle 🔥 (how dare he after he gave you a bomb) and went back to his previous position.

“Love you too~ goodnight and sweet dreams my honey bunny sugar plump pie.”

“Why do you have to ruin the moment.”

“Lol.”

“Goodnight too I guess..”

It was safe to say that you couldn’t sleep well that night; somewhat because Yujin forgot to tape his mouth so he snored so loud and drooled on your head, mostly because of his previous words and actions. (You’d never tell him that it was because of his previous behavior though, his head’s already big enough…)

TAGLIST — @heemingyu @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss

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respectthepetty · 3 months ago

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Why I react when GMMTV acquires more BL Boys like Pokemon

TLWR: GMMTV is bigger than we think

For the people in the room who don't understand why some of us (aka ME) get concerned every time a new artist is announced at GMMTV, let me explain myself (and capitalism) to you.

I'm talking to you.

Yes, you. No, don't roll your eyes. *gently holds your face in my hands* Look at my face. I'm serious. Look me in my eyes. I understand that you think I'm overacting and being ridiculous, but I want you to know why I keep harping on this. And I'll try to make it quick. I promise.

Remember this scene from Jack & Joker when the rich people were playing a version of Monopoly? And Jack asked if they were "just playing with people's lives"?

That's capitalism.

So what does that have to do with a Thai talent agency?

Well, it's becoming a monopoly. Amazon and Google are considered monopolies. Legally. They have been sued for it. You might think that there is no way a Thai company worth millions is on the same level as two American companies that are worth trillions (yes, trillions), but Amazon and Google didn't start that way.

And neither did The ONE Enterprise which is the parent company of GMMTV, One31, Change2561, and a subsidiary of GMM Grammy (which at one point Nadao Bangkok was under it), plus countless other companies like Parbdee Tawesuk, Atime Media, and Exact.

Google started off as a search engine. Now we have Chromebooks, Google phones, Google software, Google maps, Google shopping, Gmail, and so much more like it owning YouTube. But there are still other companies that have search engines, so no big deal! We can just use those. But the reason Google was sued as a monopoly by the Department of Justice (and won) was because Google makes it very hard to use those other search engines since everything else it owns only allows us to use Google products. Therefore, there is no competition simply because Google has enough power to control what we, as the consumer, see.

But this didn't start overnight.

A lot of other companies who produce Thai QLs exist, just like all those other search engines still exist, but The ONE Enterprise produces the most QLs through its various branch companies. But not only do those companies produce them, they contract other smaller companies like Studio Commuan, Dee Hup House, Trasher Bangkok, Hard Feeling Film, and many more, which is normal, but that means at any given time, at least ~65-75% of the QLs from Thailand are from one company. But, but, but, The ONE Enterprise's channels also sells slots to other companies, so their QLs can be watched on GMM and other channels. And, remember, this enterprise has only existed in this form since 2022.

So in two years, that enterprise has gone from being behind maybe less than half of the QLs to having a hand in at around two-thirds of them if not more, which doesn't include the fact that the actors in those QLs also have concerts, music contracts, and so much more.

Also, the companies with the largest profits in Thailand are from the finance (banking), real estates (hotel), tech, and medical sectors. Yet GMM Grammy is the ONLY entertainment company in the top 250 from Thailand. That doesn't include the other parts of the conglomerate.

I know I'm throwing a lot around and it seems disconnected because I'm trying to not make this too long, but know this, if The ONE Enterprise already has a hand in, at the lowest estimate, 60% of all QLs made in Thailand and continues to acquire more actors like Studio Wabi Sabi's fleet when it restructred, the 40% that is left for everyone else will continue to shrink. Domundi/Mandee has about 25 actors. GMMTV alone has about 150. Smaller companies can get more actors just like GMMTV can, but with what money when they have to pay to air their shows on The ONE Enterprise's channels while The ONE Enterprise's shows get moved behind paywalls internationally which gives it even more money? And with what crew when The ONE Enterprise has the smaller houses on contract plus its own fleet of talent? And with what incentives can these other companies give actors when they don't have the capability of giving them a record deal, a hosting job, a reality show, merch options, and so much more that The ONE Enterprise can because IT. OWNS. EVERYTHING?

And most importantly, what is allowed to be created when these smaller companies have to abide by one company's rules so their shows can air?

Good for these actors going where the money is, but it's worrisome that The ONE Enterprise is *the* place where most of the money is, and it's only existed in this form for two years.

Money is power. QLs are Thailand's soft power, which can and does influence policies, laws, and society which means people's lives. So, once again, if one company has the most QLs, the most actors, and the most money, it has the most power.

And one entity having the most power in any sector is never a good thing.

#uno reverse card #gmmtv is not evil #but it is a company #under a larger company #that owns a lot!#the kids should get their money #but there should not be only one place they can get the money #there should never just be one place #that's a monopoly #it's fun as a game #but not real life #because monopolies control a lot #like what we get to see and know and experience

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undreaming-fanfiction · 7 months ago

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Written for @steddieangstyaugust, day 6 - "Who did this?" Childhood friends Steddie, delayed because I'm still sick and sleeping most of the time, sorry. I will catch up eventually.

When he was eight years old, someone up there sent Steve Harrington a miracle. It was't flashy, shiny or anything, so it took him a while to recognize that it was indeed a miracle. It came in form of a boy about a year older than him, with a mop of wavy dark hair, large brown eyes and even larger smile - Eddie Munson.

Steve was doing well at that time, or so everyone kept telling him. His parents had the money to buy a big house, get him a babysitter when needed, send him to all the activities he wanted - only they were rarely with him. But that was fine. When you have everything that so many others don't, you can hardly complain about something as mundane as feeling lonely.

God, Steve felt lonely.

He was the rich kid, the one with the "nothing is ever good enough" parents, and that rarely won him any friends. They all expected him to organize parties, to get a bouncy castle for the afternoon, to bring a cake whenever they asked, but it felt like they never really wanted him. Steve found the feeling painfully familiar.

It took one gentle rejection of another set of requests and demands, a suggestion that maybe they could just go and check out the fair that was just unpacking nearby, and everyone lost interest in him, called him cheap. Unpacking meant that it wasn't open yet, and that Steve wouldn't pay for the rides. He was just leaving the playground when he heard a high, loud voice call out to him. "Hey, hey you! Yellow t-shirt! Wait!"

Steve stopped and turned around, glaring at the skinny kid rushing to him. "Yellow t-shirt?" he asked, wondering if he should be insulted.

"Well, duh. I don't know your name yet. I'm new here." The boy stopped in front of him with a wide smile plastered on his face. "But now I will. I'm Eddie, I moved in with my uncle a week ago. You are?"

Steve offered him his hand. "Steve. So, uh..."

Eddie laughed and shook his hand. "Hi, Steve. Now, did these sharp ears hear something about a fair?"

Something lifted in Steve's chest, something he never knew weighed so heavily on him. "Sure did!"

His new friend - only friend - beamed at him. "Then lead the way! "

It was after they properly inspected all the attractions that the fair had to offer that Steve noticed a bruise on Eddie's arm. It was pure chance - he and Eddie were swinging on a tree branch and Eddie's sleeve fell back, revealing a nasty bruise. It must have been older, but the size and discoloration were still enough to make Steve concerned.

"Who did this?" he asked, pointing at Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie seemed to freeze mid-swing. He dropped to the ground and pulled the sleeve back. "No one. I fell, I'm clumsy like that." He spoke fast and with that carefree smile, but Steve's gut had a mind of its own.

"Eddie. You don't get bruises like that from falling," he said and despite Eddie's protests, leaned in to examine the injury. He'd seen some like that, on kids whose parents tended to fight a lot, or at least according to his parents, "had a nasty violent streak". He always tried not to stare, but he knew what they meant. "It looks...looks like a punch. Did someone do that to you?"

The smile faltered and Eddie dropped his gaze to the ground. He shuffled around awkwardly on his feet, as if he was deciding whether to run. "Uh...yeah. I mean. It's probably not a secret, it's just that it used to? I mean," he added, noticing the confused look on Steve's face, "my dad tends to get angry a lot when things don't go well. He lost his job, mom left us...so yeah. That's also why I'm here, in a new town, new school...my uncle lives here. I'm staying with him."

"Is he..." wavered Steve, "...is he angry too? Will you be OK?"

If there were any tears in Eddie's eyes, they were gone in an instant. "Wayne? Oh no. He's great. He's a bit scary, but he's so nice. You know, he gave me his own bed. I told him I don't need it, but he didn't care. And he gave me some really cool books! You'll never have to worry about Wayne. Or me. That's a promise."

Steve didn't think Eddie meant to lie. "You'll never have to worry about me" sounded wonderful, but it never worked that way with them. And Steve found himself asking Eddie the same question over and over.

"Who did this?" he asked as Eddie came to the school with his head shaved, gently coaxing an answer from Eddie that his classmates thought cutting his hair would be a great prank. "It'll grow back even thicker, just you wait," he snickered, but Steve could see his restless fingers reaching out for the strands that were no longer there.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was helping Eddie fish out his school supplies from the pool. Eddie just laughed it off, saying he'd pissed of a bunch of seniors by not lying to their girlfriends about cheating.

"Who did this?" he asked as he saw Eddie with a black eye and his locker painted over with the word FAGGOT. Eddie shrugged and slammed the locker shut. "It's not like they're wrong," he whispered to Steve. When Steve turned up at his and Wayne's trailer in the evening, Eddie hugged him tight, as if he thought he'd never see Steve again over that admission. As if.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was picking Eddie up after his roleplaying club, Hellfire, and seeing that someone cut Eddie's tires. Eddie just laughed and explained that apparently dragons and adventures were the work of Satan now.

"Who did this?" he asked in marvel as he saw Eddie's first tattoo. It was so crooked and imperfect, but so much like Eddie. When he admitted it was his own work, Steve asked for one of his own.

"Who did this?" he laughed as he kissed Eddie for the first time and found a small braid hidden in his mane of hair. When Eddie admitted he made that one himself, that he gets restless sometimes, Steve asked to teach him. So he could always braid Eddie's hair for him when they eventually moved away together.

But maybe the answers didn't matter.

The answer to "who did this?" didn't matter to the mob that gathered after Chrissy Cunningham's death. They decided they knew already.

"Who did this?" didn't matter when Steve raced to the hospital with badly injured Eddie in his car, the wound on his head bleeding onto Steve's pristine window.

"Who did this?" lost its importance when Wayne and Steve waited for the dreaded news.

And knowing who did it certainly doesn't help Steve now, as he and Wayne are picking up a headstone for Eddie's final resting place.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #wayne munson #steddieangstyaugust #tw: character death

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lonniemachin · 11 months ago

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I was asked to help share Omar's fundraiser. He is urgently raising money to evacuate he and his family or start rebuilding their lives in Gaza. He has only raised €822 out of his €50,000 goal so far! Please share and donate, and if you can't donate, please still share!

From Omar's GFM:

Hello, I am Omar, a Palestinian from Gaza.

I’m reaching out to you seeking your help for me and my family from the horrors of the relentless war that has been ongoing in Gaza for 7 months now. I would like to tell you a bit about my small family.

I am married and have 4 children, Leen, Lian, Mohammed, and a 9-month-old daughter named Lolo. My 38 years of life in Gaza is what I love all about. I love its beach, its streets, its life, its smell, I love everything about Gaza. I had a normal, quiet and quite happy life with my husband and daughter and with my parents and siblings until last October.

After the 7th of October, my whole life came upside down due to the war on Gaza. I first moved to live with my wife and children at my parents’ house due to the ongoing war and the fact that we needed to be evacuated across the Gaza Strip. I was afraid of not being able to save my family with bombs falling around, so the first displacement was moving to my parent's house. The war became fiercer and we were afraid, my little child was crying due to the continuous shelling and explosions.

Eight months pregnant, my brother's wife struggles to care for herself and her unborn child. The desperation weighs heavily on all of us.

A few days later, we were ordered to evacuate the building where my childhood home once stood so we had to quickly collect a few belongings and leave my parent's house. Me, my wife and our family moved to my sister’s house which was in a quieter neighbourhood and a smaller building. That was our second displacement. Shelling equally followed us to that area, so this time along with my sister, her husband and his family all of us had to move again. We had to split to 3 different places due to available places to shelter and thus with our 3rd displacement, the incessant bombing, lack of water, food, electricity and multiple communications blackouts we also had to endure the separation and the inability to communicate inside Gaza as well as being cut out from the outside world.

There’s no place safe in Gaza, we can be bombed at any time and anywhere across the strip. Displacement is hard on adults, so it’s unimaginably harsh on children who are not able to comprehend why they have to move from one place to the other, the reason some basic day-to-day things keep changing, such as water to shower, food, water, being enclosed without going out and of course the noises of the warplanes and raining bombs. Amid all of these horrors, we received the news that my parent's house, that place we used to call home where we lived our childhood, as teenagers and adults, that neighbourhood where we lived with our friends and neighbours for years was simply reduced to rubble. All 4 buildings and surroundings were wiped up from the neighbourhood. In a few minutes, a lifetime was lost. Home, savings, friends, neighbours, and memories, all vanished in a blink.

My greatest concern is children, their future, where they will live, study and grow up. There’s nothing left in Gaza, all life-sustaining means are now destroyed. The future became blurry and dark. We had dreams, me and my wife, for us and our children. We dreamt of a simple, peaceful and bright life and a successful future for the children. We all have the right to have a normal life and children deserve a normal childhood and a bright future like other children worldwide. We should be able to provide them with the essentials for a normal life, such as safety first and material needs such as food, clean water and clothing and also education. These are the minimum rights of a child.

I’m also concerned about my parents who dedicated their lives to me and my siblings to provide us with the best education and the possible comforts of life so we feel like we live in a place as in any other free country across the globe. At this age and within these war conditions, I would like to be able to provide them with a safe place and a decent life to give back a bit of all their dedication throughout our lives.

In case this war gets to an end, we need to restart our lives, in Gaza or preferably outside where we can find safety and peace. In Gaza, we have no place to live any more and the rebuilding will take years and a huge amount of money. Outside Gaza, we need the money to get out and a reasonable amount to start somewhere.

To be able to find a safe place for our children where we can have a peaceful future alongside her parents and grandparents, I would greatly appreciate your contribution to donate and share this donation request so it can reach the highest number of kindhearted people and we can get a good amount of money to provide the children with what they deserve.

From the bottom of my heart, I would like to greatly thank you for your support.

Sincerely yours,

Omar

#palestine #free palestine #gaza

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ladykailitha · 3 months ago

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Steve's Family Christmas

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: Grief (a Friend Indeed). You can read the first story here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3

Steve was sure that his house never had so many people in it the entire time its stood in Loch Nora.

Most of Eddie’s family was here, Penny and Danny, Lauren, Oliver, and Gale. While Danny’s brother Hal was staying with Eddie and Wayne. His uncles Percy and David Kincade were in his parents old room. Penny and Danny were in the guest room across from the master bedroom, while Lauren and Gale shared the guest room next to his bedroom. Oliver was put in the basement next to the game room.

He was looking at about half of them sprawled out over the sofas in the living room with utter helplessness.

David came up and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about all this, Percy and I will help keep the chaos to a minimum. Just rely on us, okay?”

Steve let out a long sigh and nodded.

The other members of the Munson clan were set to join them at any minute so they could go over the Secret Santa rules and let everyone pull a name out of a hat. And if you got someone you didn’t know well there was a poster in the kitchen that had a cheat sheet of people’s likes, dislikes, and any allergies they might have.

Everything was primed to go smoothly. Which was precisely why Steve was so nervous. He didn’t know everyone very well, but those he did? Thrived on chaos.

It took all of five minutes for a fight to break out between the Nelsons and the Kincades.

“I’m just saying that there should be maximum amount,” Penny was saying, “that way the kids can still get their Secret Santa a gift and not see someone else get something outrageous like a new car or sports equipment, something ridiculous.”

“Money is no object,” Percy said dryly, crossing his legs leveling her with a glare. “I have no trouble giving someone the money they need if they want to get an extravagant gift.”

“And I’m saying that they shouldn’t have to,” Penny argued. “Because if you’re just going to give everyone the money then we might as well just buy everyone a gift, no holds barred.”

David shook his head. “That’s not the argument you think it is. It’s what Percy and I wanted to do in the first place.”

Penny blinked at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing without sound coming out at all.

“I have the perfect solution!” Steve said before the tension could mount further. Everyone turned to Steve. “You can spend however much you want–” there was a bunch of grumbling from the Nelsons and Percy and David looked too smug for words, “but! You have to make it yourself. It has to be homemade. You can’t buy it, you can’t pay someone to make it for you. You have to make it yourself.”

“Oh,” Percy purred. “That is elegant. I approve.”

Penny and Danny shared a concerned look, but they really didn’t have an argument against it.

“I’m down,” Wayne said, “I think it’s a great idea. Gets everyone thinking outside the box and sure, some crafts are going be more expensive, like painting or knitting. Or even woodworking, which is what I’m going to be doing. Is borrowing equipment allowed, Steve?”

“Sure is!” Steve said with a grin. “As is renting it as long as the finished product is something you made, it counts. Writing songs, poems, stories totally count too. It’s something you made.”

Eddie grinned up at his boyfriend. He could have drawn something in a pinch, but letting him write a song? That would be even better. “I’m sold!”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief at a crisis well and truly averted.

If Steve thought it was chaotic with a dozen people, adding almost double that made for a wild time that’s for sure.

There were two Secret Santas planned. One for Eddie and Steve’s families and one for all the friends. Eddie had the worst luck and gotten both Oliver and Mike.

“Normally, I’d say just buy two copies of the same album,” Steve suggested, “and just wrap them differently so you know which is which, but...”

“I have to make something for Oliver,” Eddie huffed.

Steve kissed the top of his head. “You’ll think of something. You always do.”

“Yeah, sure Mr. Lucky over here,” he groused. “You got me for the family gift giving and Robin for the friend. You have this in the bag!”

Steve did feel bad about that one. But he picked last, no one could claim he cheated. He had already bought Robin a couple of books on cinema and film making. She had gotten a video camera from her parents on her birthday and thought herself the next Martha Coolidge. For Eddie, he had gotten the recipe for his favorite spice cookies from Wayne was planning on making him a box of them.

The day arrived and the gifts were handed out. Steve had gotten a small stainglass picture of the sun and the moon from David.

“I cut the pieces of glass and welded the metal together,” David explained. “I assume it counts.”

“It’s beautiful!” Steve gasped and gave him a hug for it.

Eddie was happily munching on his cookies and swatting away anyone who tried to sneak one.

Everyone was happy with their gifts and even Penny had to admit that homemade had made for some very thoughtful gifts. Even if, as with David’s gift to Steve, it must have cost a lot of money.

Wayne came up to Steve as the blended families showed off their gifts to each other and just having a good time.

He placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You did good, Steve.”

“It’s nice to have all my family around for the holidays,” he murmured. “And I consider the Munson and Nelson clans as family.”

“You thinkin’ about marrying into the family?” Wayne teased with a grin.

“If it was legal,” Steve said with an answering grin, “I’d do it tomorrow. Or, you know when the county offices opened again after New Years.”

“Well,” Wayne said, “I’d be happy to have you in the family and I even like your uncles, too. It’s nice seeing that boy so happy.”

Steve looked over at Eddie who smiled up at him. Then he came bounding up to them.

“Stevie!” he said brightly. “Come help me convince Oliver to come to the friends’ do so he can meet Mike.”

Steve laughed and let Eddie haul him back into the crowd.

Hal came up beside Wayne. “It may have taken a death in the family to bring us all together but I think your mom would have been proud today.”

Wayne smiled, tears misting his eyes. “I think she would have, too.”

“Merry Christmas,” Hal murmured.

It certainly was that.

Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #the 12 aus of christmas

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whimsijoy · 2 months ago

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fake plastic trees

a/n: so i fear this has been brewing in my docs for too long and i actually hate it but its my longest fic yet + i’ve been wanting to write a song fic (if u can even call this that) for so long. eeeek!!!

content warning (?): not a happy ending (but maybe this is part one), canon level gore, reader breaks a promise, fake identity that’s barely used, steve becomes a real estate agent

wc: 3.1k

— ˚✧₊⁎ˍ̮ ❝᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Hawkins, Indiana - April 13th, 1985.

“I win.” You say, shoving your empty plastic blue tile holder towards Steve; his two tile holders are both filled to the brim with cream colored Rummikub tiles.

“You only play this game because you know I’m bad at it.” Steve sighs as he dumps his tiles back into the game’s packaging.

“You’re only bad at it because you treat this game like it’s time based.” You scoff out with a heatless eye roll before helping him pack up the rest of the tiles. “It’s okay. Someday you’ll be as good as me.” You say, shoulders shrugging softly before you peck a quick kiss to his cheek.

You stand up from the place on your apartment’s floor, and pick the Rummikub box up off the coffee table. You take it to the miniscule linen closet and put it next to your 3 other board games. Since it’s your apartment, you’ve bought the board games you’re best at.

You and Steve Harrington have somewhat similar backgrounds. His parents are home more often than yours are, which says something. Your parents are Travel nurses, so it’s common for you guys to only stay places for a couple weeks at a time.

With you still being in school, however… They’ve left you home all by your little lonesome since you were about 16. So, you’ve lived in a flat on the outskirt of Hawkins for about that long while your parents go and take care of people across the state, the country, whatever.

When you’ve turned 18, the apartment transfers into your name and you're responsible for the rent and utility bills. For now, you and Steve play house while they’re away.

“So, what sounds good for dinner? I think I have another few boxes of Noodle-Roni. We could make that.” You posit.

“Yeah, I could eat that.” Steve says simply, going to sit at the kitchen island. Usually you’re the one to cook. Steve isn’t very great at making things that don’t require a microwave. He’s still bummed about not getting into any college, or tech school that he applied to. It’s difficult.

His dad has been on his ass about not getting in anywhere, from what he’s told you. You genuinely feel bad for him, you know the feeling of being let down, you can also understand his anxiety of not knowing what the next step is.

You make dinner that night and reassure him to the best of your ability. You know his mother has always been kinder than his father. Maybe she’ll let him join the real estate firm, you try to tell him.

—-

Outskirts of Hawkins, Indiana - Jul. 5 - 3:13 AM

You’ve been up for the past 22 hours. Steve has been totally no contact, for seemingly no reason. You had both left for work the previous morning, and he never came home.

You know that while it makes money, scooping ice cream at the mall is not that demanding of a job. You don’t think it’s to the point where he would go completely AWOL. You’ve recently been informed about what the Upside Down is, and you're not completely sure it’s real.

But, you’ve also stored the tidbit that you can’t dream of things you’ve never seen before in the back of your mind since you’ve learned it. You don’t think that the night terrors that Steve has acquired could have emerged from his everyday life.

You’re outside on the back porch, watching the last of the fireworks from the night. Each explosion makes your flinch and blind hard, but the explosion of lights in the sky are too vibrantly addicting to go back to bed. It doesn’t help that your missing boyfriend has you anxious to the point of losing sleep. Well, it hasn’t been a full 48 hours, you think, so you can’t file a report quite yet.

You’ve at least put your pajamas on and washed your makeup off. You figure that if you get ready for bed, soon enough your body will crave it. The nicotine and heat from the cigarettes disproves that theory, but you just need him to be home

When you’re close to tears, that’s when the landline rings. You don’t even bother fully ashing your cigarette, you just set it in the ashtray for it to finish burning.

You rush to the handset on the wall and bring the receiver to your face, smushing the bright red plastic to your cheek, hoping for something. Anything.

“[Y/N]?” You hear a familiar voice croak down the line. Oh, you could punch him.

“Steve? Is that you? Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll pick you up.” You say through the phone. You try not to let your voice shake. You know that your concern is tangible. It tastes like tobacco.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. Um.. I’m at Starcourt. I don’t think I should drive.” You hear it come through the phone. You’re already grabbing your purse off of the stool and nodding. He’s slurring his words which usually means one of two things, but you don’t think he’s drunk.

He's different when he is. You figure he’s gotten beat up again (which feels worse than him being drunk), and this is his first chance to get to a payphone. You sigh. “Yeah, no problem, Steve. I’ll be there in a bit. You better explain to me what happened.” You say before placing the phone in the cradle and rushing out the door.

–

Starcourt Mall, Indiana - 3:32 AM

You definitely broke some traffic laws to get here, but that doesn’t matter. There was barely anyone on the roads anyways.

You park haphazardly in the parking lot. Your car isn’t even in a parking space, and the engine is practically still running as you grab your everything. Purse, keys, etcetera. You throw your car door open and stand, looking across the carpark and smelling the oppressive weight of the smoke.

You look at the blinding, flashing lights of different emergency service vehicles until you spot Steve. Half of his face is swollen, beaten. This is worse than Jonathan, bordering on worse than Billy. You slam your car door shut with more force than you’ve ever used before as you sprint towards him, sitting at the end of an ambulance.

Once you're in front of him, you have your arms tightly around him. He smells of sick, blood, and sweat. Very little hints of his shampoo and cologne are left behind under his pungent smells, but he’s here. At least he’s in your arms.

You only shed a few tears, the nauseatingly sick feeling in your stomach neither worsening or abating. You have no idea what’s been done to him, and you don’t know how he feels. All you can keep doing is holding him, and rubbing into his back gently.

You finally pull back and wipe your eyes, checking him over. You frown at the sight of the swollen half of his face. You flash his coworker a soft smile and wave, as composed as you can manage before doing a more thorough checkover. You stroke the sides of his neck gently, your thumbs stuttering at the feeling of the injection mark.

“Are you ready to go home?” You ask. You don’t know where else he’d want to go, but you feel he’s probably been dragged through enough crock loads of shit in the past few days. You just want to make sure that he’ll be okay.

“Yeah, Mhm.” He sounds. You give him your hands to help him as he hops down from the edge of the rig, and you rub his arm. You miss the way hair lined his arms. You smooth the frazzled strands out before looking in between him and his coworker.

“Do you need a ride home?” You ask her softly. You know that you’re probably not leading with the best impression right now, and you don’t know her, but you also don’t know how she’s getting home tonight.

–

ɐuɐᴉpuI 'suᴉʞʍɐH - Feb. 25, 1987

“You have to go, Steve. You need to keep them safe and you know I can’t–”

“Stop that. Stop it, because you know I won’t, and… and I can’t.”

“Steve, I promise. I promise I will hold this down, and not do anything drastic or.. or unexpected. You can come back, and everything. You have to get the kids through that gate and onto home ground, and then you can come right back here.” You plead. You don’t make promises you don’t think you can keep.

He gives you a dismayed look, but this time it’s genuine. You know the expression all too well. Brows pinched and jaw slightly slack, but mainly in situations where you've decided to tease him, or something of the sort. You give him a peck on the cheek, albeit guilty, before running towards the danger. Before the very thing that has been targeting Hawkins for the past. Too long. All you needed to do was keep it waiting, but focused.

A loose cannon, aren’t you?

It hadn’t even been 15 minutes that Steve was gone. He ran back to the rendezvous spot to find it empty. Concrete-esque flooring, with occasional meaty vines strewn about. You and the older chapter of the Party had deemed it the safer part of the Upside Down last spring.

But you’re not where you agreed. Steve knows you wouldn’t just run off for the hell of it. His brain automatically seems to figure out what happened, and it’s the worst possible answer. Either way, he’s come to realize that you're gone. Permanently.

He heavily considers staying down here and meeting your assumed fate as well, but he knows he can’t. He has people to please, but he doesn’t know how he’s going to upkeep all of it. He thinks he can.

He meets Robin and the Party at the gate alone.

—-

Hawkins Laboratory, Indiana - Mar. 8, 1987

You’d finally been pulled out of the upside down a week ago. You’d been hospitalized on some different floor of the lab, rehabilitated to a functioning member of society (kind of), and now you're sitting in front of some government officials, signing papers that say your existence in Hawkins never happened.

“Quick question, if I can?” You ask one of the men. Both are dressed in crisp suits, white collars buttoned to the top and the black tie nice and flush to the crease.

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Something similar to this happened a few years back, as I’m sure you know. But.. with that kid.. You guys just said the body was incorrectly identified. Why can’t you do that with my situation as well?” You ask softly, placing your hand under your chin as you look at the manilla folders strewn about the desk.

“Your situation is a little different than his, and also having the federal government incorrectly identify two bodies in the same small town in a 4 and a half year time frame could get some eyebrows raised. It’s better if we do it this way.” He explains calmly, sliding a cream colored folder right in front of you. There’s a name type-written on the top, and it’s definitely not yours.

SMITH, CHRISTINE.

Fitting for your birth year, but not much else. They’ve given you a backstory to memorize by 5 P.M. tonight before they transport you to Nevada. In the meantime, they’ve retaken everything. License photo, passport photo, even a photo ID and resume for the job you're supposed to have come next week. It’s all a lot.

—-

It’s odd, really. To think of seeing you again. Steve had thought it to be impossible. Every time he had thought the opposite, he had to remind himself that; that’s grief. It can do crazy things to a person.

He saw how Joyce acted in 1983, nobody in Hawkins could have missed it. But after losing you, he understands her. He hates to say it, or to think it, but she was lucky. Will came back, and the Byers were able to move away from Hawkins. Away from flesh eating underground beasts.

There are so many explanations that have run through his brain, to try and explain as to why you're not here anymore. For a while, he figured that the 3 TBIs were starting to catch up to him; make him think incredulous thoughts to explain why you weren’t (or were) in front of him.

Now there’s no sign of you. A nice funeral was hosted, talking about your different accomplishments, your life. There's a thick gravestone with your name, birthday, and assumed death date on it in the cemetery 2 miles east of Hawkin’s Memorial Hospital. Steve used to visit there a lot.

Your car was impounded a week after, your apartment was cleaned by state workers. Everything you owned is now in a GoodWill a town over.

—

Reno, Nevada - Aug. 23, 1997

Southwestern summers have always been sweltering, for as long as you’ve lived here. You shove the gas nozzle into your car, and squint away from the blaring sun. You drive a measly car, a 1989 Toyota Corolla. Lamest car on the market, you’ve always thought.

Over the last 10 years, you’ve grown accustomed to being quiet, timid, secretary Christine. You rarely bat an eye when some character on TV says your name, or if it’s brought up elsewhere. It’s easy ‘cos you don’t know anyone here that could say your name in an intimate way.

You watch as a newer model car pulls up to the gas stall next to you. You see a bumper sticker with Harrington Real Estate inscribed in black, bold letters plastered on to a side window. Hm.

You don’t bat an eye. You’ve gotten good at that. Every time you think of Steve, it doesn’t end well. You feel a gaping hole open in your chest and then it’s hard to remember much past that. Usually there’s some kind of intoxication involved, and considering that you’re just trying to get gas and then get home, it’s not an option tonight.

From what you remember, Steve, while the love of your life, isn’t the brightest bulb in the shed, you fear. You’ve changed since you were 20 years old, as he has, so you hope he doesn’t stare at you too hard. You hear the sound of both the driver side door open, and the passenger side door open. You get a glimpse of a woman with mousy brown hair that falls to her collarbones, a fringe, a toothy grin when she wants it, and bright blue eyes.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that they’re together. But, you know it’s an aged Robin. Now, you know you’re a little more screwed because she’s a tad more perceptive. Way more perceptive, actually.

You feel 4 eyes boring into your skull, and you try to pay no mind to any of them. You pull the sunglasses off of the top of your head and rest them on the bridge of your nose with shaky fingers. You can hear Robin pull Steve aside, making him lock the gas nozzle in place before leading him into the gas station.

Your tank finishes filling shortly thereafter. You put the nozzle back in place and realize that you have twelve dollars and sixteen cents in change. That’s enough for basically 4 boxes of Marlboro Reds, minus tax. You’re running low, anyways. You take the receipt from the gas pump and make your way inside of the convenience store portion of the Chevron.

As you walk into the small shop, you place your sunglasses back on your head then, voices carry.

“Do you seriously think that was her?” A deeper, hushed voice asks. You can hear them perusing the candy aisle.

“You know I wouldn’t throw the idea around lightly.” The female voice defends. “I mean, you know how you were after her… death? Can we even call it that now? It’s officially named the situation, now. Back to the point, you were a flaming hot mess.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that, Robin. That’s why.. I don’t know. It’d be awful to get my hopes up.” Steve says, closer to the cashier.

“And then, could I get four boxes of Marlboro Reds? Please.” You say kindly to the attendant, who still has your cash in his hand.

He gives you a morose response as he grabs the proclaimed boxes. You fidget with the fancy ‘C’ initial necklace resting in between your collar bones, watching as he places them in a frail plastic bag.

Once the plastic is looped over your fingers, you turn around to see him, and her standing right in front of you. You made eye contact with shocked brown eyes, then the blue ones.

This feels tortuous. You give him a small smile, like he’s a new person in town. A passerby. It makes you nauseous, teary, all of the above.

Fuck.

But, the government made it a huge deal that nobody could know what happened. Not a soul, no matter who could figure what out.

You give them a soft smile, like you don’t know them, and make your way out to your car. Would the government even know if you had one conversation with them? A final goodbye? Some closure? You don’t know, and no matter how bad you want to, you can’t dote.

You push the glass door open as fast as you can, and your stomach only drops further when you don’t hear it close behind you.

“Ma’am?” You hear a familiar voice call from the light grey concrete in front of the door. You’re the only woman out there, you know this gas station doesn’t have cameras (and if it does, fuck it), so you have to spin on your heel.

You face the man you’ve been pushed away from, and you see him eye to eye. You don’t know how to explain to him what happened, because you know you can’t. “Yes?”

“You… look like an old friend of mine.” Steve states, hand in his jean pocket.

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” He says with a nod. You can’t tell if the purse of his lips is pissed off or disappointed.

“That’s interesting.” You say, painstakingly slow as you step towards your car. “You gotta name?”

“...Steven.”

“Well, Steve,” his name feels so familiar on your tongue. Something like a meal from his pantry. “I hope you find your friend. I bet she misses you.”

“I’m expanding my business out here to Reno.” He says, a suave shake of his head. You watch as he pulls a slip of bright white cardstock from his wallet. “If you’re ever interested in selling your home… Call me.” He mutters. You take the business card and pocket it.

“You got it. I’ll let you know.” You say as you rest your elbow on the top of your car.

“Have a good evening.”

You climb into your car that you hate, and drive back home. You cry the entire way.

#steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things steve #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

wibta if i keep having sex with my friends dad? nsfw warning

i (20s cismale) got invited by my friend (20s nonbinary) to try out some new edibles they made last thursday. this isnt too weird because both of us are unemployed (they get disability, i get money from unemployment, and we both live with our parents) and usually during the day their dad (50s cismale) is at work so we get the house to ourselves. well last thursday was different because i came over late in the night when their dad was home, and he offered to make me some dinner too. i get the munchies really bad so i was immediately like yes please and thank you while i fucked off to my friends room. we played some smash bros while we waited for the cookies to kick in, and when it started to hit his dad called us both out for dinner. dinner was great, and his dad is super chill — so he let us raid his alcohol cabinet. i dont think he knew either of us were stoned for the record (im naturally really quiet/dont make eye contact, my friend sounds high 24/7 naturally) so i dont think he was like trying to get anyone drunk or anything. my tolerance is pretty good but my friends is shit so it didnt take long until they were like blackout drunk and passing out on the couch, while their dad and i were both drunk too (not blackout but pretty drunk, and i was still high) and sitting on the opposite side of the couch next to eachother

important fact about me - i crossdress like femboys or whatever theyre called. i like looking really feminine and cute and confusing people. im not trans or anything like that gender is just a game and i am winning it. but i do tend to dress up in very egirl/goth gf clothes if you know what i mean, and i look pretty convincing ive been told (friend tells me i would pass for ciswoman with the makeup on). i think their dad maybe forgot that i was me (he usually sees me in boy clothes) and he started hitting on me? i didnt think i was gay or bi either until he started doing it and i got really flustered but i didnt stop him? again i was fucked up so the attention felt really nice despite it being my friends dad. but anyways he kept getting closer until he kissed me, and it felt nice so i let it keep going? which was probably super fucked up in retrospect. but anyways stuff gets hot and steamy, their dad doesnt bother lifting up my skirt, one thing leads to another and we have sex. he definitely noticed im not a girl during that (its pretty hard to miss lol) but he didnt stop so we kept going for a while

after we were done he and i passed out on the couch in a kind of awkward position, we both woke up in the morning and i think thats when he realized im me, but he didnt seem to freak out even though hes straight?? or at least i thought he was straight. but we had sex again in the morning and then when my friend woke up we all had breakfast and i went back to my friends room and we hung out more and got high again. while we were though i accidentally spilled the beans to my friend, and they FREAKED out on me and said that i was so gross for doing that, and they cant believe that it happened, stuff like that. they kicked me out of their room and their dad had to drive me home because i was shaking bad from it. but while their dad drove me home i was super pissed and mad and not thinking straight (haha) and so i tried to convince their dad to take a detour so we could fuck again. and he was like, okay sure, so we did?? but now i feel horrible for doing it knowing that it grossed my friend out so much, but i really like their dad and he seems to like me too, and i want to keep banging him :(

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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very-d1pper · 7 months ago

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inspired by a post from @jamandjazz

How Johnny Cade, Dallas Winston, and Steve Randle are affected by their parent issues.

ok so keep in mind i havent read the book since december (i dont have my own copy) so this might be a bit wrong. im using info from my mind, the movie, the musical, tiktok, and here.

Johnny Cade

so its canon that johnny wouldve ran away if it werent for the gang (starting off strong with dally-johnny parallels OUCH)

the abuse from his parents definitely gave him a fucked up sense on what it means to feel loved

which is why johnny gets along with dally so well, i'll get into that more in dally's part

he 100% thinks that the entire world hates him except for the gang

someone said that he is so sweet its sick, not true. the abuse definitely toughened him up enough that he will be mean to strangers

he canonically is somewhat responsible (going out to the store to buy supplies and giving ponyboy a note)

im saying that because im pretty sure pony says something like twobit and someone else in the gang would forget to buy something johnny remembered

johnny learned that from having to live out on the street sometimes when his parents fought or kicked him out for multiple days

he is the living definition of forgive but never forget

he just wants a home

i personally hc that the abuse started as johnny grew older, maybe when he was 6-8 years old

which is why johnny (especially in the musical) still cares about his parents

because he remembers that they WERE good people

and he hopes to bring them back eventually

Dallas Winston

oh this man...

ran away from his problems. thats canon

his mom died when she gave birth and thats why his dad is the alcoholic deadbeat abuser he is

the abuse from his parents gave him a fucked up sense on what it means to love

which is why he can talk to johnny so well because johnny is used to the type of love dally gives

he 100% hates the world except for the gang

the abuse toughened up both johnny and dally, the thing is dally grew up with it, johnny was raised with love at first

also dally's environment in ny, that place is rough in many areas

tulsa doesnt have that, at least not on the level of ny

he's rough with everyone because thats what he learned

Steve Randle

UGH THIS MAN BRO

screw u se hinton for giving us NOTHING abt him

anyways!!

the neglect sooo fucked him up

then his dad giving physical money for forgiveness?

hell nahhh

steve definitely felt like he cannot be loved without paying someone

like with real money

which made him feel unlovable because he's like broke as fuck

soda was the first person to show him what love actually is

his mom uhh eloped to wherever after steve's birth ig idfk

steve thinks everything in the world comes with a price, even an ounce of love

i literally cant think of shit for this man rn

All Three

accidentally trauma bonding

johnny mentioned something then both steve and dally said "same"

genuinely concerning from an outsider standpoint but really funny to them

if it was modern au darry or soda wouldve sent them to therapy

one time johnny got kicked out and went to the curtis house and found steve in the kitchen

j: "kicked out?"

s: "...yeah"

j: "same."

then dally walks in

d: "bottles got thrown at me in buck's place"

j: "ptsd?"

d: "no-" *remembers he's with two people who had it happen to them* "...yeah"

j and s- "its good."

johnny convinces them to do a cuddle blob thing (the gang's done them before)

darry wakes up and see them, doesnt comment but remembers for blackmail

#cam talks about the outsiders #the outsiders #steve randle #johnny cade #dallas winston

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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I know you must be busy and have a lot of work to do, so dont feel pressured to respond !! 😊

Anyways, i have Dominic💓 brainrot 😫‼️‼️💔💔, and was wondering what hed think of a reader that has been raised in a lower/working-class household all of their life ?

Here we have a person that's not has had even a *taste* of luxury, their clothes being second-hand, thrifting becoming their past-time, and, havung had parents living paycheck-to-paycheck, would feel guilty for ever asking tjem for anything, and had starting working for Dominic because they were desperate to pay them back for all the sacrifices they msde for them in their childhood :((

And here we have Dominic, a successful, wealthy business man, secretly raising their wages, and the whole time reader feels sheepish and at times even *embarrassed*, overwhelmed by so much money ??

Especially whrn he slides in a thick envelope with a generous stack of cash into their back pocket with a charming wink, or buys them sometjing that they had mentioned wanting in a passing conversation as they had been sadly stating how they coupd never afford it, and Dominic saying that its absolutely—

—"Not a problem in the slightest, mon chéri. Why wouldn't I want to reward my favourite babysitter for their hard work?"— **oozing** charisma and smiling his dazzling, award-winning smile, and insisting that—

—"You shouldn't be fussing over trifles such as money. Hard work pays off, and you have been working very hard indeed." ... @@"" ",

Anon, you've hit the nail on the head with this one 🤭. Thank you so much for writing in and enjoying my Dominic content, it means the world to me <3 !

TW: Dominic, Manipulative Mentions of Weight Loss, Implied Smut, Dominic Being a Creep

♡ But yes, absolutely, Dominic would use his financial position as a means of dominance over you. Subtly, of course, so that you don't know he's being...unabashed his efforts to woo you. But prevalent enough that you still feel indebted - grateful - to him for all that he's done.

♡ The longer you know each other, the more personal - intimate - the gifts he gets you become. Speaking on that, he makes a habit to inadvertently reward behaviours he desires in you, such as cutting off friends, dumping your boyfriend, spending more time around him, etc.

♡ At first, the gifts are general - vague - and inconspicuous; they belie the true extent to which Dominic has memorised your tastes. Something like a low-price jumper he knows is your general style, something to keep you warm in winter. He'll give you a smile. "Can't have our favourite babysitter freezing up now, can we."

♡ Then, it'll be a pair of boots to go with the jumper - "So you won't have any difficulty getting to and from our house."

♡ It doesn't matter that you live right next door to each other. Dominic doesn't want you taking any chances.

♡ He'll use his assertiveness to trick you into believing you've "Gotten a little thinner these days. Are you eating properly?"

♡ He'll feign concern as he comes close to you, lifting your arms, apologising and faking a vague bashfulness as he apologises for overstepping. "French hospitality, I suppose," he says, averting his eyes for no longer than a second.

♡ And of course, you believe him. Of course, you don't see a problem with his behaviour, especially when he seems so concerned for your wellbeing.

♡ He won't let that lie, by the way. He'll keep telling you how you seem to keep dropping a size every time you see him. Eventually, he'll insist on taking you out to dinner.

♡ When you inevitably try to refuse his kindness, he'll whip out old reliable. "It was supposed to be Marilyn and I's dinner date, but she's..." he glances down the hall. Gives his brow a light yet chiselled furrow. He wonders if you can hear the fizz of the sedative in Marilyn's drink as he can, the sound fresh in his ears.

♡ "Sick, unfortunately."

♡ So now, obviously, Dominic is faced with a dilemma. But you have the solution.

♡ He asks you to accompany him — “I’ll pay for you, of course,” — to take Marilyn’s place.

♡ You resist at first. Tell him that you couldn’t possibly do that. But Dominic is the father of manipulation, and he’s nursed many a lie, watched the become their own adulterous identities, and knows exactly how to get you to go.

♡ “Please, you deserve a break. And besides, I don’t want to be seen eating all the lobster on my lonesome.”

♡ You succumb to his efforts. He tells you to get ready for your dinner date. You tell him you have nothing worthy of wearing.

♡ He knows this.

♡ He smiles. Brings you to a room that is filled to the brim in outfits he says that “Marilyn and I rarely use. Something here will be your size, I'm sure.”

♡ He’s made sure there is. He’s bought half a dozen suits and dresses in just your size — and a little over or under depending on how tightly he wants to see the fabric squeeze you — for this exact occasion. Of which he expects there to be multiple.

♡ He resists the temptation of watching you undress. Of seeing you so bare in his house.

♡ He settles for whatever little flashes of skin your outfit affords. All of which were bought with the sole intention of giving Dominic enough to work with for his midnight musings.

♡ This is not the last time Dominic will treat you to dinner, the last time he watches your eyes bulge out of your skull as you see the amount the bill comes down to — a luxury Dominic lets you see to really instill that sense of indebtedness.

♡ And each time, he tries to get you further and further over the threshold of his house. His room.

♡ When you get undressed and back into your ordinary clothes, Dominic tells you he’ll keep the outfit and wash it.

♡ You don’t know it’s yours yet.

♡ He doesn’t wash it. He all but bathed in the scent of you, mouthing the places your warmest, most intimate sorts would have been pressed against. He imagines you there, vividly.

♡ He wonders how much you’d be willing to bend to the will of his wealth. How much he can make you do until you’re entrenched in his affections, toffee-sweet and with all its viscosity.

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

#sweet as an angel #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #original yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere dilf #yandere dilf x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere blog #yandere writing #yandere x darling #tw yandere

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mrwinterr · 1 year ago

Text

Die Happy (Eddie Munson Version)

Pairing: Ghost!Eddie Munson AU x Female Reader; hint of Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary: You summon a really friendly ghost. 👻

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual vibes all around, masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral? [female receiving]) and language. 🚫 Minors DO NOT interact. Dabbling into the occult (use of a Ouija board).

Disclaimer: I’m a spooky bitch, but I would NEVER mess with an Ouija board. This is an AU. The upside down and the events that happen in the series Stranger Things (2016) aren’t entirely canon here.

Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers

A/N: This is a re-imagine of my Ghost!Bucky Barnes AU from years ago, but I wanted to convert it to fit with our dear boy Eddie. It’s only altered to fit a different narrative, but the smut is still closely the same. The inspiration came from an erotic audio on Reddit, so I owe it to that. There was a part two in the works, so if this goes well, I’ll continue writing it for this AU. Enjoy!

You sat there on your small couch of the trailer you had just moved into about six months ago, staring at the unopened brown rectangular box placed on your coffee table, contemplating on unboxing it. A part of you was scared to touch it again because of its contents and the other part was bullying you to just rip it open and get this over with. This was your idea after all. This was your last resort. This was the package that would, hopefully, help you find the answers you were so desperately looking for.

What exactly were you trying to solve?

Six months prior, you’d managed to save up enough money to move out of your parents’ home, away from a superficial city and into a small, quiet town. Albeit a trailer wasn’t your first option, it was something you could call your own. It was the most adult thing you’ve done in your life so far. Initially, you were excited because you would be able to decorate it the way you wanted for every holiday, host small gatherings with friends and maybe even bring someone home. However, you couldn’t exactly do most of that, not with all the strange things that have been happening and while you attempted to brush them off as mere coincidences, they were becoming almost too outstanding to ignore any longer.

First, it was the air conditioning unit acting wonky. You kept the place at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies or wrapped up in blankets. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there, the technicians couldn’t find a single problem with the system and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine.

Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.

The most bizarre thing though, was things disappearing and reappearing. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from where you left it and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never had to search too far because there they were. Maybe it was all in your head?

The eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would trail behind when you felt that breeze pass over. You couldn’t pinpoint what it exactly smelled like, a composition of something woody with amber undertones that suggested a sense of strength and warmth from its presence. One thing was for sure, it wasn’t any like your fragrances nor was it from the only person that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost a calming one to you.

You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. You came to the conclusion you were living with a ghost. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. If anything, it helped you out more than bothered you. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or move out, but you’d worked too hard to get here and you weren’t going to let whatever entity run you out of your new home. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

Pulling the Ouija board out from the box, you place it on the table and it seems to have a hold on you. How do you prepare yourself to summon a ghost? You don’t know how long you’d been staring but it was only when the sudden knock on your door does the spell break.

You get up and make the short distance to the front door and you’re briefly greeted by your close friend Steve. Your relationship with him was close to the point where you’re not even bothered that he just makes his way inside as if he lived here with you. He’s so busy rambling about something, probably about his latest shift at the video store he worked at, that he didn’t notice how uncharacteristically quiet you were being.

“Whoa!” He exclaims, stopping in his tracks once he sees the Ouija board laid out. Its presence was enough to effectively cut his story short. “What are you doing with that?” He asks, pointing at the object and taking a few steps away from it.

You roll your eyes, sitting back down and reaching into the box to pull out the remaining piece, the planchette.

“What does it look like I’m going to do with it?” You say, staring up at him blankly.

“Shit,” he starts, running his hands through his thick hair, “okay, uh, I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were this spooky,” he says, his eyes bugging out in disbelief.

He stands in place as if the items in front of you were cursed, but seeing that you hadn’t actually begun anything yet, there’s a bit of relief. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural. It was just wild that it was happening to you.

“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Steve warns as he cautiously makes his way back closer.

“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking the now empty box aside.

“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!”

Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.

“I need to find answers, Steve!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his, if not, louder. Your once calm demeanor switching to an intense one, cutting the tension of what you were going to partake in had brought about. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own place.”

Oh yeah, he knew. Steve was the only friend you could confine in and the one person you could share your stories about your home and the experiences in it.

“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove this theory. He could see the inner turmoil you were facing and the vulnerability that cracked through your exterior after your outburst.

“I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.” If the frustration wasn’t visible in your features, it definitely was in your voice.

“Look,” Steve says, voice now careful, ”why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” You knew this offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Hawkins and were looking for your own place, Steve had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent…and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him.

Steve was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and even though you'd both crossed so many lines already, a part of you feared crossing anymore would jeopardize it. Worse, what if whatever it turned out to be would just fail miserably in the end. Then where would that leave you both? He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Steve knew you simply weren’t ready and he was willing to wait.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face, the kind that made you feel guilty, and went back to fidgeting with the planchette in your hands. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety. He’d always been protective of you and hated seeing you upset.

The nights he had spent in your trailer nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening to you. Steve wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out today like this. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.

The crack of thunder in the sky, slightly rattling the trailer, indicated a storm was coming and you took that as an excuse to convince Steve to leave for the night. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Steve, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page.

“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up , walking over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Steve wasn’t mad. He knew you weren’t going to change your mind this time, but he could be patient. He was always very patient with you.

He reluctantly nods, defeated, before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but it mostly muffled against his biceps. You bask in the warmth of his embrace for a few lingering seconds, inhaling his fresh, clean scent, one that was a complete contrast to the one you were used to smelling inside your trailer, before pulling away and playfully shoving him out the door.

As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jump, head snapping at a sudden crashing sound from the kitchen area. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you, on your last birthday from Steve, shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor. The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house just didn’t like Steve… You shook your head at that last silly thought and sighed preparing to clean up the mess.

The gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the once clear sky and with the sounds of the fast raindrops against the windows and pavement, the lag in thunder chasing the flashes of lightning, you didn’t waste time on the mission.

What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with something so what could’ve been scarier than that. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would they be like Casper?

Would this even work? The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended. You’d seen The Exorcist and not to mention this kind of activity was very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now…

The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.

You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? There wasn’t exactly a guide on etiquette for communicating with the dead. You did your fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.

You take a deep breath in and out then begin to summon your supposed roommate.

Eddie felt bad.

He felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t. He remembered when you were given that mug. He saw the way your face lit up after reading the stupid text on it that only you and the person who gifted it to you understood the meaning behind it.

He didn’t like Steve and he certainly didn’t like how Steve made you feel. Steve made you feel all sorts of things and Eddie knew that, which explained why Steve never experienced anything unusual in the house because Eddie didn’t like seeing you with him. He chose to not be present in Steve’s presence. Most of his kind would make it a point to make it known they hated them, but Eddie didn’t want to spook you.

He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young, barely in his 20s before he left an ongoing cold case behind, providing no closure for his friends and his uncle.

But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. He’d grown so attached it outraged him to see any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his home.

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of years. He tried his best to communicate with his uncle before he finally managed to move into a better place. He was proud of Wayne for working hard to get a real house for himself. He took assurance that he was able to live more comfortably now. He should’ve known his own flesh and blood wasn’t bothered or spooked out by his attempts to get his attention, so when he left, Eddie was alone for nearly three years. No one was exactly in a rush to move into a trailer, his trailer, until you came into the picture. That day you walked in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well…ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.

He tried to subtly help you with everyday things. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.

He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Steve. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Steve was already gone.

Eddie followed you back into the living room, watched as you lit the candles scattered around and dimming the lights. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. You deserved a nice night in. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently. He was already trying to guess what kind of movie you were going to turn on but when he saw what was laid out in front of you as you sat back on your couch, his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.

“Oh no,” he says as he stares at the Ouija board on the table. Eddie starts pacing in front of you, his hands bunching up his hair in a panic state. Anyone that had ever set foot in this trailer to scope it out knew this place gave off a spooky vibe. This was a tough trailer to sell because not only was it unsettling but so was the story behind it, which it was unbeknownst to you why it was so affordable. You weren’t stupid and you knew there was something or someone lurking, so this was almost bound to happen.

“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette. You’d close your eyes to mask your fear so that should anything bad happen you wouldn’t have had to stare death right in the face.

“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you were willingly reaching out to him. He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone in years, so now given an opportunity to do so gave him a sense of elation.

“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Eddie argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.

He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately and effortlessly move your hands to slide the planchette over the word ‘YES’.

Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you received an answer. Now that was not your imagination. This wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you either. You’re frozen, but look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, however you don’t see anything.

At least that’s what you think. On the contrary, you’re staring right at Eddie or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock for two reasons.

First, he was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. Secondly, he was in awe. He knew he was attracted to you, but even though you couldn’t see him, he could see you clearly and you were so beautiful to him.

He’s scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time it excites him that he’s successfully communicating with you.

You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you thinking that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? If you were to get hurt or anything, you’d deal with Steve later. You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.

“What are you?” You ask next.

“What am I?” Eddie repeats the question, “I’m dead, sweetheart.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette still. The corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, had him comparing it to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff…either way he felt very blessed to pull such a thing as a small smile out of you.

“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Eddie said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a real conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six months.

A particular flash of lightning followed by a clamorous thunder startles you, breaking you away from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the night.

When your heartbeat finally returned to its steady rate, you got up to turn on the lights. You made sure you blew all the candles out and doors were locked before turning in. As you walked the path to his old bedroom, Eddie watched you look back to the living room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew who it was directed towards - it was meant for him.

The days that followed, you were growing more and more curious. In your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.

You went from door to door of the trailer park doing your own investigation on who used to live in your trailer. You got mixed reviews from the neighbors, but you believed you got the gist of it down.

The trailer originally belonged to a man named Wayne Munson, who took in his nephew becoming his sole legal guardian. You dug deep at the local library, sifting through old Hawkins newspaper archives, to find out that his nephew had commonly gone by the nickname ‘Eddie’ and he wasn’t too far away in age from you. He went to the same high school as Steve, where he struggled in graduating, had a reputation of being a delinquent and someone who participated in satanic practices. The worst of his offense was being linked to the murder of a beloved teenage girl, Chrissy Cunningham.

The accompanying images of the girl and boy in the newspaper clippings, you assumed to be Chrissy and Eddie. She was undeniably pretty and he was…cute. The tips of your ears burned and turned red as you caught yourself staring a little too long at his picture.

Why’d that make you feel weird? You’re thinking things about someone you’d never met. You didn’t know anything else about him and what you had learned, it didn’t sound good either. That couldn’t have been the same Eddie in your trailer, right?

To your surprise, Chrissy had brutally died in your very own living room. Were you living with her? Something didn’t make sense though. What was her unfinished business? All the things you picked up on from the TV or movies, was that most spirits that wandered had some sort of “unfinished business” that prevented them from moving on. Right?

The news seemed adamant that it was Eddie who killed her, but it was her own boyfriend, some star athlete, Jason Carver, who had been found guilty of her murder. Eddie had been acquitted but the twists and turns never stopped as you read he himself had been found dead inside the trailer a few weeks later. The puzzling thing was the autopsy proved it wasn’t by suicide. He didn’t do this to himself. The saddest thing, aside from the loss of two young lives, was his uncle being the one to discover his nephew lifeless in their home. No one was ever charged for his murder and it didn’t look like there was a rush to locate the killer, which angered you as you continued reading. The real killer was possibly still out there free to live the rest of their life.

You’re so engrossed with your findings you barely paid any attention to Steve when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls, which seemed uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.

Steve was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.

“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Steve shouts, fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were hyped about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place.

He looked around the small space seeing your notes scattered throughout the coffee table, some spilled on the carpet. There were so many he couldn’t see the Ouija board still laid out. It was just buried underneath.

“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him. “Did you know? Did you know Eddie? Or what happened to him? Did you know that he and someone else died right where we’re standing?” This was the first time you asked him about the person Eddie was, not the ghost. You wondered why he didn't say anything? He’d lived in Hawkins his whole life. Surely he’d had to have heard about this. It’s a small town, people talked.

“I barely knew him,” Steve sighs, guilty but admits, “he wasn’t exactly popular or well liked by most because of how different he was.” You watch as he brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, “but even I didn’t think he was capable of doing that stuff to Chrissy.” He was trying to erase the crime scene the media had released to the public from his mind. “I swear I didn’t know this was his trailer though. Like I said, I barely knew the guy.” You can hear the sincerity in his response and nodded. Had Steve known, he’d most likely had pushed harder for you to move in with him.

“What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace…and so will he,” you start to persist.

“You’re not going to be able to convince Hawkins that Eddie Munson didn’t kill someone,” he says bluntly. “You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Steve reminds you. “I’m just worried about you,” he brings his hands to your arms in an attempt to comfort you.

“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Eddie.

You were relieved that the conversation with Steve didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.

So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to the dead?

Take two.

You sat perched, trying to hype yourself up to communicate once more. Eddie, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that they’re here.

“Chrissy?” You ask, your fingers firmly on the planchette. You hadn’t figured out which one was actually still here or if both were.

Your hands move over to the answer, ‘NO’.

Shit. Eddie thought to himself when you said Chrissy's name. How much did you know about Chrissy? If you read anything about that night in the papers then it surely wasn’t good. What did you think of him now? You probably thought he was the devil. He thought you were going to end this, cut ties with him, cleanse the house or even move out after discovering it’s been him this whole time. The realization that you were living with a monster.

“Who are you?” The last revelation had to be obvious, but you needed confirmation. Eddie had nothing to lose, physically, but if this was the last time he’d get to communicate with you, he’d take every second until you stop. Your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘E-D-D-I-E’.

“Eddie,” you whisper. Boy, did Eddie like the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“Is anyone else with you?” The answer points to ‘NO’. He was alone.

“How did you…die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.

The letters ‘M-U-R-D-E-R-E-D’ give you your next answer. It was indeed him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.

“Did you knock down my mug?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.

“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.

‘S-O-R-R-Y’.

The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.

“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Steve another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.

Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Eddie and you weren’t sure of what to ask next, but you didn't want to stop talking to him.

Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.

Eddie watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your worries and pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.

With your hands back on the board, you ask, “are you still here?” Eddie responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.

“Can you show yourself to me?” There is the ultimate question and Eddie can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.

“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown, defeated at his response.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. He was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to those nearby, he was never successful.

You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.

There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine. You flinch and your hand rises quickly to warm the spot. What was that? You didn't feel that when using the Ouija board. Was that Eddie?

Eddie almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. All he did was caress your face and it was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.

You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.

It sucked for Eddie because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.

“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again to the open area, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.

However, Eddie still needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’ on its own. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.

The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.

Feel? You definitely felt a presence and a touch, but now it was confirmed. He was trying to communicate through touch.

“Yes, I felt you!” you let Eddie know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.

“Touch me,” you requested.

Eddie is stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling the soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it’ll stop your wandering eyes.

You are still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke, his comforting scent invading your senses. It was him. It had been him this whole time and he’s definitely here in front of you.

“More,” you say barely above a whisper, not paying mind to the coldness.

Fuck. Eddie inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.

He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?

“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Eddie doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips back on yours, but with added pressure, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.

Eddie’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.

When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, disregarding the temperature, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.

Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.

Eddie or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Eddie, you were suddenly hot all over.

Flustered, you pulled down your shorts on the way to your bed, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.

Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you need them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Eddie got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.

No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit. Using your slick, you begin to rub slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, resurfacing now coated by your own wetness as you use it to an advantage in invigorating your bundle of nerves.

Eyes closed, you start to think about Eddie. How his skin would feel against yours. How you’d tangle your fingers in his wild hair. How his hands would feel on your sensitive parts. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Steve or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him to get you through the finish line.

The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.

And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you…The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy.

A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then you hiss at the abrupt familiar cold sensation that runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Eddie was here. You pick your head up, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.

It shoots a wild pang through Eddie's chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed a few significant things in his life already. He missed graduating high school. He missed a chance to get a better car. He missed a chance to sell out venues. He missed playing music. He missed his uncle. He missed his friends. He missed Hellfire. He missed out on someone like you. He missed a chance to develop a deep connection with someone. Life was so cruel.

Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Eddie. The feeling had you wishing he had lived to one day cross paths with you. Would he have still been in Hawkins when you moved here? Would you be neighbors, friends or more? Would it have been him and not Steve? All the could've and would’ve scenarios sprouting in your head. You got too attached learning about him. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.

Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Eddie’s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt minor stings at how cold his touches were in the beginning, for the first time, Eddie felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.

His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature felt good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body.

Cool air brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Eddie never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.

“Eddie,” his name slips past your lips breathlessly when he makes contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his mouth back to ran a long, flat strip over your folds, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.

The cold, with each bit of contact from Eddie, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Eddie uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking deeper into your pillows.

There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Eddie, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack, pulling your shirt over your head to grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.

Eddie’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves, squirming from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn’t require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he finally dips his tongue inside your wet hole and back out, before capturing your clit between his lips, sucking on it. The sweet suction sensation on your clit as his lips enclose around it.

“I-I need...fuck,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Eddie’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down hard on your bottom lip, you could taste a hint of copper already, trying your hardest to not let out a crazed scream.

Eddie doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they and his tongue take turns in you. The addition of his thick fingers start taking you closer to your impending orgasm. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the filthy things he would say or do.

He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. He could feel your walls closing in tight around his digits, your wetness pooling around them and spilling, he almost loses control of your withering body. When you reach your peak, your mouth and eyes snap open, a choked gasp transitioning into a straggling loud moan, pupils blown, the sweat beads trickling down, and your back arching up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed when your orgasm rocks through you before you come back down releasing choppy breaths from its intensity.

Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Eddie one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. His fingers slowly slipping out and the puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Eddie is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.

For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d always hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth or wherever he was, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough.

Eddie would die happy.

A/N: Reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated. 🥹 Do we want a part 2? Let me know! Thank you for reading! 🫶🏻

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