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foliosriot · 2 years ago

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green with envy (even as i'm blushing like a cherry) (5960 words)

eddie munson x steve harrington ao3 if that's what you prefer :)

tonight’s the night. eddie finally invited steve to the hideout to see corroded coffin play after months of his friends/bandmates badgering the everloving fuck out of him and pressuring him to just give in.

in theory, eddie figured it wouldn’t be stressful by any means; he’s just playing another gig — a gig where his best friend raging fucking crush will be somewhere in the crowd, watching him. in practice, eddie was vibrating with nerves, more so than usual. he’s been anxiously nibbling at his fingernails for the past thirty minutes, but thankfully everything is set up on stage and ready to go.

eddie could not believe he somehow convinced steve "the hair" harrington to attend a metal show. well, a more-than-amateur metal show where the crowd consists of mostly drunks and stoners, but a metal show nonetheless. however, the thought of steve being in the crowd — being there for eddie — made eddie’s stomach do somersaults as he not-so-subtly peaked out through the curtains to gaze out over the growing crowd from backstage. his heart felt like a bass drum, double-foot pedals slamming into the vital muscle, threatening to obliterate the fragile membrane.

god, this couldn’t be fucking happening. he’s never been this nervous before a show. not even the first show corroded coffin actually got to play at the hideout. then, he’d been high on adrenaline and weed and utterly buzzing with anticipation. now, he’s stone cold sober and jittering with fear and anxiety.

he needs a fucking cigarette.

but that thought is immediately crushed when a hand lands gently on his shoulder, causing him to jump. eddie swings his head around to see gareth looking at him as he carefully withdraws his hand.

”dude, you good?” gareth asks, concern subtly gleaming in his eyes.

eddie blinks a few times then nods. “yeah. i’m fine,” he tells him, near breathlessly.

gareth scrunches up his eyebrows. “it’s just another show, eddie,” he reminds him. there was something in his voice that was making eddie’s skin itch.

yeah, a show where steve harrington will be watching my every fucking move.

”and just because steve is gonna be here doesn’t mean it’ll be any different,” gareth continues, as if he were able to read eddie’s thoughts. “we’re gonna kick ass either way.”

eddie bit down on his tongue and forced himself to agree with gareth. because gareth was right, after all, like he goddamn always is. it was just another show that steve just so happened to agree to attend. it’s not a big deal, and eddie internally scolds himself for making it seem like it was honestly and truly a bigger deal than it really was.

gareth stood by his side until it was time for corroded coffin to take the stage. eddie forced down a few deep lungfuls of stagnant air that smelt like alcohol and sweat, and stiffly followed after his bandmates.

like gareth had said: just another show. and that’s exactly what it was. eddie successfully got his mind off steve so he could focus on traipsing his nimble fingers up and down the neck of his beloved warlock and nailing each strumming pattern. he got lost in the music, and didn’t bother paying that much attention to the obvious groupies that were front and center of the crowd or frantically searching the faces before him for steve. (and thankfully, the lights were bright enough that they prevented eddie from looking further beyond the corroded coffin groupies.)

fortunately, their set ended with raucous cheering and whooping, and eddie was able to catch his breath. unfortunately, the lights came back on and eddie finally got to see everything in front of him, which meant he instantly began searching the sea of faces for steve.

the cymbals and bass and wailing guitar were all still shouting mercilessly in his chest when he finally spotted steve. he was sat at the bar, and he visibly brightened when he caught eddie’s eye. eddie was about to wave at him in greeting when steve’s attention was drawn elsewhere.

a man approached steve. eddie couldn’t make out any defining features from the stage so he didn’t know who it was. but he started talking to steve like they were old friends, snatching his gaze that had been lingering on eddie a bit too long.

eddie huffed as he began packing up his guitar as jeff, gareth, and grant were already hauling their shit off-stage. eddie helped them get everything into the back of his van before they all headed back inside. although, the cold night air felt refreshing on his sweaty skin, so he may have stayed outside a few minutes longer than necessary. definitely not so he could avoid steve just a bit longer.

as he was about to dive into the crowd, eddie’s eyes found steve with no trouble. steve and the mystery man were talking, their heads angled inward, too close for eddie’s taste. there was a twinge underneath his sternum, and the remaining adrenaline coursing throughout his body was coiling into an untidy knot in the pit of his stomach at the sight.

steve was smiling widely at the man and laughing at something he had said when eddie got in front of him. steve noticed him and essentially threw himself at eddie, his arms coiling around eddie’s neck and eddie’s wrapped around steve’s waist. the proximity was soothing and calmed eddie down, calmed his post-show nerves and eased that unnecessary weight from his shoulders.

steve pulled away too soon for eddie’s liking. but the beaming grin on his face was almost worth it.

”eddie! that was fucking amazing,” steve complimented him. “why have i never seen you perform until tonight?”

eddie shrugged. “didn’t think you’d want to come,” he admitted as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “y’know, i figured the metal scene wasn’t somewhere you’d feel comfortable or welcome, so i never asked.”

”well, you are an incredible guitar player, so i’m definitely coming more often.”

the way steve said that made eddie’s stomach twist and jolt with apprehension. but he would be lying if he said he didn’t like the feel.

and the way he was looking at eddie? if eddie didn’t have a firm grip on his self-control at the moment he would be pouncing on steve in an instant. finally get to see what the hype was all about when it came to kissing steve harrington. finally get to see what it was like to taste him as their tongues collided and—

“oh, eddie!” steve’s voice knocked him out of his head. “this is ash,” he said, gesturing to the man standing beside him.

now, eddie finally turned his attention to the mystery man. he hadn’t spared him a second glance since he first spotted steve right after their set.

ash was a few inches taller than steve, just like eddie. his wavy hair was dyed black — a shitty box dye at best, if eddie had to guess — and hung delicately around his face. he wore a dingy denim jacket that was decorated with some band patches and pins, with a bad religion t-shirt underneath. his jeans were tattered and torn, adorned with patches of different fabric patterns and accessorized with safety pins and a couple chains. he had on annoyingly chunky black combat boots, and eddie could just make out bland black socks sticking out. a small silver ring stuck out of each earlobe and a stud clung to one nostril.

a punk at a metal show.

a punk with steve harrington at a metal show, no less.

eddie must be fucking dreaming.

“ash, this is eddie, eddie, this is ash,” steve introduced them.

ash gave him a tight lipped smile and a brief nod before turning his attention back to steve. the gesture set something off inside of eddie, and he didn’t have the guts to give it a name. at least right now.

this guy wasn't rubbing eddie the right way, and he needed to get away. of course, he didn't want to leave steve, whose eyes kept returning to eddie every few seconds. that alone would keep eddie glued to where he was standing. but ash the punk was crowding into steve's space and giving eddie the cold shoulder.

"um . . . well, th-thanks for coming, stevie," eddie said to steve as enthusiastically and genuinely as he could muster. ash was now fully standing in between steve's legs, effectively stealing steve's attention entirely. the sight made eddie grit his teeth until it hurt.

without another word or attempt at getting steve to acknowledge him, eddie spun on his heel and walked away. he shoved his way through the crowd until he was backstage. none of the guys were idling back behind the curtain when he stepped into the secluded area. eddie groaned, grabbing his leather jacket and stomping for the back door.

thankfully, the guys were standing next to his van. they were definitely still hyper with adrenaline but very obviously coming down. gareth was twirling one of his drumsticks around his fingers as he leaned against the van. jeff was bouncing on the balls of his feet while grant was half-asleep next to him.

but as soon as they caught sight of eddie, all signs of exhaustion vanished and they were talking at him at a million miles an hour.

"what'd harrington think of his first corroded coffin performance?" grant asked.

"yeah, he had to have had some choice words for it," jeff added from where he was leaning against grant. "was he polite about hating it or what?"

grant and jeff kept badgering eddie with random questions from the left and the right. and honestly, eddie couldn't find it in himself to care. because frankly, he was exhausted, hungry, and maybe just a little bit pissed off. gareth happened to notice his strained expression and finally relieved eddie of the chatterboxes they call friends.

"you guys are assholes," gareth cut in, his tone bland. "we had a damn good show, right? how 'bout we just head home? eddie can tell us tomorrow.”

god bless gareth.

so eddie reluctantly climbed into the driver's seat and, once everyone was in, he swerved out of the hideout's parking lot. and if his throat was tight from the urge to cry then that's for him to know, and him only.

the next morning eddie felt like a corpse. his limbs were heavy and his head was numb as he shuffled to the kitchen for some breakfast.

as he sat and ate his sad cereal, dejectedly eating it on the couch, eddie found himself reminiscing about the night before. he remembered having an anxiety attack all day because steve had agreed to go see corroded coffin perform. which meant his mind reminded him of the fact that steve hadn't been alone. he had someone with him, a punk for fuck's sake.

it was more than obvious that the guy didn't want to be there. eddie could tell he had been slightly uncomfortable in a metal-dominated environment but was too proud to say so.

what was his name again? crash? rash? eh, eddie could care less.

the way he had been all over steve sent a paralyzing shiver up eddie's back. he had been deliberately stealing steve's attention, something eddie was 100% sure of.

but steve had been there to support a friend. just a friend. eddie and steve were nothing more, so eddie had no reason to feel like this. whatever this is.

and, it's not like eddie and steve flirt like there's no tomorrow. or that they are always pressed up against each other even when there's plenty of open space around them. or when steve will show up to the trailer whenever eddie calls, when eddie is bored or lonely, or just wants to see him (which he never outright says). and definitely not when steve will cuddle with him without complaint.

yeah. none of that means they're more than friends.

although, eddie can’t help it. he can’t push away the pulsing ache in his chest. he can’t clear away the lovesick fog from his brain. just the thought of steve hanging out with someone that wasn't him — save for anyone else in the party — made him sick.

he wants steve, and he wants steve to himself. he doesn’t want to share. and he sure as hell isn’t going to share with a bitchy fucking punk.

jesus christ, he needs help.

eddie finishes his cereal and sets aside his empty bowl. he sots back against the couch cushions, anxiously nibbling on his bottom lip.

maybe that is what he needs: help. maybe he should just go to steve and talk to him, tell him how he has the biggest fucking crush on him and how it makes him physically ill to think of him with anyone that isn't him.

eddie nearly laughed at himself for just thinking that.

what about robin? robin could help. yes, robin could help eddie!

and he knew for a fact robin was working at the family video today. he could get her alone, in case steve is working, and tell her what's going on.

genius.

unfortunately, when he shows up to the family video, eddie is met with the sight of steve's bmw parked out front. eddie is suddenly nervous, especially as he forces himself to go inside.

but someone basically rams into him when he walks through the door. eddie finds himself apologizing before recognizing who collided with him.

fucking trash.

the punk grimaced at the sight of him but changed his demeanor completely when there was a laugh from further in the store.

back behind the front counter was steve, who was hiding his smile underneath his hand. his shoulders were gently shaking from laughing, and it made eddie see stars.

"ash, you remember eddie, right?" steve said as his giggles were dying down.

ash — eddie liked trash more — gave steve a curt nod. he turned back to eddie, his eyes cold and dark.

"yeah, i remember him," he replied, but only loud enough for eddie to hear. "i'll catch ya later, steve," he called over his shoulder before pushing past eddie out the door.

eddie grumbled under his breath as he made his way over to steve. he forced a smile that quickly turned genuine at seeing steve already smiling gently at him.

��hi, eddie,” steve greeted him.

”hiya, stevie.” eddie grinned brightly at him as he planted his palms flat on the surface of the counter, leaning forward until he was nearly in steve’s space. “how’s it goin’?”

”it’s going okay,” steve says. his eyes are soft as he stares at eddie. “better now.”

”yeah? why’s that?”

steve shrugged with one shoulder. “i mean, you’re here, so,” he tells eddie.

this makes eddie smile even wider and brighter, his grin rivaling the summer sun outside.

”oh? little ol’ me?”

steve doesn’t respond. all he does is gnaw on his bottom lip, clearly biting back a smile, and avoids eddie’s eyes. it has eddie’s heart swooping down to his stomach.

”well, as much as i would love to stay and chat, i need to talk to robin,” eddie explains, once he is sure he has steve’s blushing face imprinted on his brain. “she here?”

the diverting conversation has steve finally meeting his eyes, but he looks a little disappointed. although, maybe eddie was imagining it, because the look is gone in the blink of an eye.

”i’m covering for rob today,” steve says. he has the ghost of a grin stretching his lips. “said she had a family thing.”

fuck.

now eddie has to wait to talk to robin. he sure as hell isn’t driving over to her house after this. no way.

”shit, okay.” eddie couldn’t swallow the slight panic that had found its way into his voice.

”is everything okay, eds?” steve asks, his eyebrows scrunching up.

eds. eds. eds.

fucking hell, this boy was going to be the death of eddie.

”uh, y-yeah, everything’s fine, stevie,” eddie says in assurance. “just had a question for robin. it can wait, though.”

steve nods, though he doesn’t look completely convinced.

”but i’ve gotta go now. talk to ya later.”

eddie begins to walk back towards the exit when he finds himself stopping just as he is about to reach for the handle to the door. he bites down on his lip as hard as he can before turning back towards steve.

”y’wanna go see corroded coffin again next friday?”

steve’s eyes are wide as he nods enthusiastically.

”yeah, of course! i’d love to.”

”sick.” eddie smiles at steve once more. “i’ll see ya later, sweetheart.”

and with that, eddie finally pushes the door and leaves the family video. he harshly bites his lip as he’s getting in to his van, scolding himself for inviting steve to the hideout again. at this point he’s basically setting himself up for failure, especially if steve brings stash next week. the thought sends a jolt of discomfort down eddie’s spine as he starts the van and gets the hell out of that parking lot.

-----

eddie didn’t see either steve or robin the rest of the week. he was terrified for friday night but he had to get over himself one way or another. so if that meant seeing his crush bring another guy to his band’s gig, then so fucking be it, right?

gareth had definitely noticed eddie’s change in behavior since he first invited steve to the hideout. eddie hadn’t disclosed anything him or the rest of the band, but gareth had seen steve and his plus-one during their performance last week. he knew eddie wouldn’t react well.

and react well eddie did not.

eddie ended up ranting to gareth profusely after going to family video for robin, where he saw steve instead. he had bitched on and on about ash, the annoying punk who had stolen steve’s attention like it were a pot of gold, something that could be bought and used for his own gain.

if eddie were being honest, he doesn’t have anything against punks. he thinks they’re great people and that they are a very welcoming community. but ash had rubbed him wrong, and he couldn’t place his finger on why. their brief interactions had a left a permanent sour taste in eddie’s mouth.

now, here he is, just like he was the week prior: standing in the shadows of the curtain, anxiously waiting for corroded coffin to go on stage while he scoured the growing crowd for a glimpse of steve.

eddie didn’t catch sight of steve before they had to take the stage. he lost himself in the music, just like always, and hoped to whatever deity that may be watching over him that steve was here. that steve was here, not steve and ash.

but the almighty deity or whatever the fuck is a cruel bastard. because as he was done loading all of corroded coffin’s instruments and gear into the back of his van, eddie saw steve sitting next to ash at a booth. and robin?

without thinking, eddie pushed his way through the crowd until he reached his friends’ table. steve was the first to spot him, who jumped to his feet and hugged eddie tightly. he didn’t seem to notice — or care — that eddie was still sweaty from performing, or how eddie clung to him longer than usual.

robin sure did, though!

robin cleared her throat from behind eddie. steve pulled away from eddie rather quickly at that, and sat back down next to ash, who was toying with one of his necklaces, obviously bored. but eddie couldn’t bring himself to care, especially as robin gave him a speedy hug before sliding into the booth.

”eddie, that was awesome!” robin compliments him once he is sat on the end of the booth across from steve. “you guys rock.”

”aw, thanks, rob,” eddie says with a genuine smile.

robin continues talking at eddie, but he’s just so tired that he begins spacing out. his head is swimming and his heart rate hasn’t calmed down much since the band finished their set. he doesn’t think he’ll stick around much longer before heading home.

before eddie can bring himself to politely cut robin off, steve speaks up.

”hey, i’m gonna go get some drinks,” he announces as he stands. he looks at ash. “c’mon. you can come help me.”

ash rolls his eyes but follows after steve anyways. eddie watches them walk away, not realizing he’s glaring at ash until robin nudges him. he whips his head around to look at her. all he sees is her looking at him, her eyebrows raised and a pointed gleam in her eyes.

”what?”

”really?” robin scoffs. “that’s all you have to say?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” eddie replies, confused.

robin groans. “oh, my god, eddie. steve. your crush on him is blatantly obvious, and it hurts to watch sometimes.”

“oh, fuck off,” eddie snaps, but there’s no bite to his voice. he crosses his arms over his chest. “my crush on him is not that obvious, okay? and even if it was, i doubt he feels the same. he’s got mash over there to keep him company.”

”his name is ash,” robin corrects him, although there is a hint of a snicker in her words. “and steve and ash just hang out. they met a few weeks ago when ash came in to the family video, and then they became friends. that’s it.”

”you weren’t here last week, rob. you didn’t see how they were with each other.”

”yeah? what were they doing? ash getting all up in steve’s face and giving him just a little bit of his attention? steve eating that shit up? was that what you saw?”

”well, yeah, but—“

“no, stop. steve—“ robin takes a moment to take a deep breath, as if she’s mulling something over. eddie looks over at her. “steve likes you, eddie. a lot. but i don’t think he knows how to deal with that. so i think he’s trying to distract himself with someone who gives him just an ounce of their time. but i know he wants your attention more than anyone else’s.”

he sighs. “fine. i was gonna talk to you about this anyways, but looks like you beat me to it, buckley.”

robin shoots him a small grin. “don’t wait too long, okay?” she tells him. her smile falters before it falls entirely. “he isn’t very nice about, y’know . . . to both me and steve.”

eddie doesn’t have to guess what she’s referring to so vaguely. he knows it all too well. somehow ash knows about robin or he was able to figure it out all on his own, which makes eddie see red.

eddie clenches his jaw. he hates that robin is right. ash isn’t someone eddie should be envious of. he’s honestly not that attractive, and his cold personality is also not attractive by any means. he’s off-putting and had made eddie uncomfortable when they first met. there’s nothing good about him that eddie has been able to see.

and he could tell what robin was trying to tell him: tell steve how he feels. he needs to, especially if this dickhead has been passive aggressive to two of his best friends. steve and robin mean a lot to eddie, and he’d be damned if he let someone get away with harassing them.

”you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” eddie mutters under his breath. he glances back over at the bar to see steve and ash heading towards them with glasses of alcohol in hand.

before steve can hand eddie a drink or sit down, eddie stands. he comes face to face with steve, whose eyes are wide as he looks at him.

”i’m gonna head home,” eddie tells him softly. “but thank you for coming, stevie. means a lot to me and the guys.”

even under the dark lighting of the hideout, eddie can clearly see steve’s face flush bright red. he blinks a couple times before he comes up with a reply.

”of course, eds,” steve says. “i love watching you play.”

eddie smiles gently at him.

”good to know.” eddie bites his tongue momentarily. “hey, do you wanna come over tomorrow? i need to tell you something.”

”uh, yeah, sure. are you okay?”

”y-yeah. i’m okay,” eddie assures him, though it’s a partial lie. “but uh, i’ll see at six o’clock tomorrow night? wayne will be at work.”

steve nods. “yeah. i’ll see you then.”

”cool. see ya, stevie.”

and with that, eddie dives back into the crowd until he makes it to the back door backstage. he doesn’t see the rest of the band, but then remembers jeff had driven his own car and took gareth and grant home right after the show.

eddie is shaking as he drives through the dark. he’s anxious and nervous and downright pissed off. learning that ash has been rude and nasty to robin and steve about things that they can’t change about themselves is quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened tonight.

when he gets home, eddie stumbles through the living room of the trailer half-blindly. his vision is blurry from exhaustion, but also from a bought of tears that wants to fall so badly. he chokes them back as he showers. he chokes them back as he puts on semi-clean pajamas. he chokes them back as he curls up in his blankets, wishing sleep would come to him faster.

eventually, eddie does slip into a feeble slumber. anxiety has been chewing away at him since he invited steve over. he wakes up groggy and grumpy around noon, even though he was already half awake by nine.

alas, his anxiety does not waver as the day passes. if anything, it gets worse. then when wayne is getting ready to leave to head to the plant he stops in eddie’s open door.

”hey, eddie,” he greets him. eddie snaps his head up to look at his uncle. “your boy comin’ over tonight?”

”he’s not my—“ eddie drags out a sigh, knowing it’s not worth arguing with wayne on the matter. at least right now. “um, yeah. yeah, steve’s coming over to hang out. hope that’s okay.”

”course it’s okay,” wayne says. there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that eddie does not like seeing, especially when it comes to steve. “he go to your show last night, then? y’know, if he’s not your boy after all?”

”oh, my god. get out, old man!”

wayne chuckles softly before telling eddie goodbye and leaving the trailer for the night. that leaves eddie alone with his thoughts for the next little while.

and he can’t stop thinking about what he’s going to say to steve. what could he say? other than confessing his undying love for him, and how he cares about him more than anything else, what would he even say in the moment?

this is hopeless, eddie realizes. he is hopeless. he’s bound to make a fool of himself, thus making steve uncomfortable and ultimately leaving without eddie even getting a proper sentence out.

he is utterly doomed.

then there’s a knock on the front door, and eddie begins to wonder if it’s too late to escape through his window.

but he’s made it this far, hasn’t he? he can make it another hour or so.

eddie takes a deep breath as he goes to open the door. his pulse is thudding in his neck, and part of him wishes it would just burst spontaneously and kill him. he stamps down the brief thought once he’s face-to-face with steve. and steve . . .

he’ll never admit it, but eddie loves seeing steve in his silly little polos. they work for him, and he loves it. eddie would never be caught dead in one. but steve pull them off so well.

he could pull something else off.

eddie internally scolds himself for that as he steps aside to let steve in. steve smiles at him once the door is closed. but there’s an air of anticipation around them, and eddie finds himself choking on it.

“hi,” steve greets him. and god, eddie is already completely gone. how is he supposed to confess his crush on steve when the guy is looking at him like that? with that charming look on his handsome face, making eddie get all soft and gooey on the inside? it’s unfair.

”hi,” eddie breathes out.

steve stares at him for a few more seconds, then says, “i don’t mean to be forward or anything, but you said you had something to tell me?”

”oh, yeah. right.” eddie swallows nervously. “follow me.”

he leads steve down the hall to his bedroom, where he stands by the door as steve gingerly sits on the edge of eddie’s bed. he looks mildly uncomfortable and eddie can’t have that.

eddie heads for the bed and sits down. he scoots back until he can sit crisscross with plenty of space between him and steve. this gets steve to turn towards him, thus pulling one leg up onto the mattress and folding it at the knee. he begins picking idly at his shoelace.

”so, um . . .”

he can’t do this. why did he think he could do this? this was so much worse than what he had initially anticipated from robin’s words last night. he was insane for thinking this would be easy.

but steve is looking at him, his fingers still playing with his shoelace. he’s staring intently and patiently as eddie searches for the right words.

it takes a while but eddie thinks he knows what he wants to say.

”never did i expect to be friends with steve harrington,” eddie begins hesitantly. “it was never something i particularly wanted, if i’m honest. but when henderson and the other gremlins joined hellfire and they were talking about this steve guy, i would have never guessed you were one in the same. ‘cause that steve gave them rides to school and wherever else out of the kindness of his heart. that steve was graduated and friends with freshmen. so this supposedly cool steve i didn’t know was an utter mystery to me.

”then henderson finally had us meet. and shit, man, you . . . you were so much better than what i expected. ‘cause i wasn’t expecting king steve harrington to be the one those gremlins would not shut up about. and yet, there you were. and i—“ eddie pauses, glancing briefly at steve. “i got to learn firsthand that you are truly a good dude. you changed for the better since high school, and that had me scrambling.”

eddie chances another glance to see steve still staring at him. but his eyebrows are knitting together and his eyes are shiny and wet.

”you threw me for a loop, stevie,” eddie goes on. “i was suddenly spinning out of control but i liked it. i still like it. and i like how caring you are. i like how selfless you are. i like the way you shamelessly flirt with everyone. i like your hugs, whenever you’re comfortable with touch. i like— i like you.”

he says the last part so quietly he barely hears it himself. though it’s clear that steve heard it. his eyes are wide and his cheeks are cherry red and eddie can’t drag his eyes away from him. his heart is racing but he’s too far gone.

”and when you finally came to see us play, i was so excited.” eddie sniffles, struggling to restrain the tears suddenly begging to fall. “but you had someone with you, and i figured that you were on a date or some shit, i dunno. i got jealous. i got angry. it was obvious to me that you like ash, so i decided to wallow in my self pity instead of saying something.”

eddie finally looks away from steve. he doesn’t see the tears slip down steve’s face or the way he’s staring at eddie with imaginary hearts popping out of his skull. but eddie said what he wanted to say. what more can he do?

as eddie’s gaze is glued to his pillows, steve shuffles over to him. eddie grinds his teeth in an attempt to ground himself and steve settles in next to him, their knees almost touching. the proximity is suddenly terrifying.

”i don’t like ash like that,” steve finally says, his voice quiet. “we just hang out sometimes. and he invited himself to the hideout, but i wasn’t gonna be a bitch and tell him no. i do, however, like you. i like you a lot, eds. like, it’s insane how much, really.”

a beat passes before there’s a gentle hand cradling eddie’s jaw. he tenses but allows steve to maneuver his head to look at him. steve is smiling gently.

”you okay?” steve asks.

eddie returns his smile, albeit a bit sad. “yeah. i’m okay.”

steve leans forward until his forehead is resting against eddie’s. eddie closes his eyes and basks in the warmth from steve, the relief he feels after the massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

eddie can feel steve brushing his thumb along his jawline, and eddie never wants him to stop.

“eddie?”

steve’s voice is close to a whisper.

”yes, sweetheart?”

”can— can i kiss you?”

eddie’s nodding as steve finally closes the distance between them.

the feeling of his lips on steve’s is infinitely better than his initial theory. steve’s lips are soft and plush and eddie finds himself reaching for that silly little polo. eddie grabs onto the fabric and holds tight.

eddie has no idea how long they’re kissing. he ended up feeling adventurous once he felt steve brushing his tongue along his lips, and almost fell apart at the seams when steve was licking into his mouth like an expert.

steve crawled into eddie’s lap. eddie immediately wrapped one arm around steve’s waist and the other slipped into his hair, his fingertips scratching lightly at steve’s scalp. he experimentally pulls a bit, and is more than satisfied at the small whine it derives from steve. steve has both hands on either side of eddie’s face as they just kept kissing and kissing.

but steve eventually pulls away from eddie. his fingers slip into eddie’s hair as eddie is blinking open his eyes. he sees steve’s lips are red and swollen, and he is blushing like mad. his eyelids are at half-mast and the beautiful brown of his irises are nearly pitch black from his dilated pupils.

“i also like kissing you,” eddie says in a breathy voice. it earns a smile from steve.

”i like kissing you, too,” steve tells him.

they lean their foreheads together once more, and eddie has never felt so relaxed or so hyper in his life. but steve is massaging his head with the tips of his fingers and the calm begins to outweigh the nerves.

”stay the night?” eddie asks. his thumb is rubbing circles into steve’s hip, and a soft sigh comes as a reply.

”i’d love to.”

”good.” eddie bites his lip. “what does this mean for us?”

”i don’t know,” steve answers. “but personally, i like the idea of being your boyfriend.”

a chuckle escapes eddie’s throat. “i like that idea too,” he says with a smile. “you wanna be mine, stevie?”

“yeah, i’ll be yours, eds.”

with that, eddie wraps his arms around steve’s middle and steve wraps his around eddie’s neck. steve buries his face in eddie’s hair, his breathing tickling eddie’s ear. and if this wasn’t the best feeling ever.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #eddie munson x steve harrington #jealous eddie munson #alex! ❪ 𖤐 ❫#alex’s writing! ❪ 𖤐 ❫

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enchantinglyjade · 2 years ago

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Milk & Honey - Ch. 18

Austin!Elvis x Black!OC

Masterlist

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Summary: Honey and Pearl finally have a chat

Warning: Swearing(?), racial issues, pregnancy,

Note: Okay, I know how many people HATE when babies are added into fanfics, but I am trying my ABSOLUTE BEST to make this actually enjoyable and kind of put a twist on how I typically see children being introduced in writing, so please trust the process.

Also, I hope this chapter isn’t too confusing. It switches between present day and flashbacks

Song: Mary Don’t You Weep - Inez Andrews

Playlist

Every day that passed only became harder. I went through all of Ma’s belongings, staring at them for hours while I reminisced on the past. Most days I was living in my memories just to get myself by.

“Well, ain’t she just precious, Loretta.” Gladys says admiring the young little girl in her new Sunday dress.

Loretta huffs adjusting in her spot to find a more comfortable position against the hard, wilted wood of the porch. “Been drivin me crazy these past few days, won’t let me get through her hair or nothin.”

“Hey, new girl! Nice dress.” A boy pesters from behind the fence.

The girl turns, wide eyed until crossing her arms upon seeing the owner of the voice.

Gladys smiles at the sight. “Look at that, they’re tryna talk to you, Honey. Why don’t you go along and play with ‘em. And boys! Make sure you include Honey this time!”

“We don’t wanna play with a girl!” Thomas whines.

Loretta shoos away his complaining, kicking out her bare feet across the sand. “She’s the only girl you ever gone see if you keep that up. Just play one game with her, please.”

The three boys groan their way to the backyard, where a ball is left on the ground from their last session. Elvis begins kicking the ball around with Thomas, while Michael walks up to Honey. “Just stay over here while we play. Don’t get in the way.” He commands.

She crosses her arms. “What makes you think I wanna play with you anyway, ugly boy.”

Thomas and Elvis pause their game to hold in their laughter. “Psh, you couldn’t play even if you tried.” Michael sneers.

Honey smiles. “Scared you’ll get whooped by a girl?”

“OOO!” The two boys shout, laughing at Micheal’s upset and embarrassed face. “I want her on my team!” Thomas raises his hand.

Michael groans. “Come on, foo’s. She can’t play with us.”

Elvis pats the shoulder of his friend. “Nah, she got you good. She can play.”

Pearl and I haven’t talked since that day. Originally I thought about moving away and never speaking to her again. I wanted so badly to just disappear from the world, I already had so much to figure out about the future, I couldn’t stand her attitude on top of it. But a few days after the funeral, I made dinner for the two of us. We sat at the table in silence. I had so much pain in me, but looking at her that night struck something.

Her eyes were dull, hair unbrushed, sadly picking at her food. She looked worse than I had ever seen her. But what hurt the most was that I remembered she was barely 18. She’s just a kid that lost her daddy too. I was the only family member she had left, and same for me. I’m not much older than her, but enough that it felt like my responsibility to step up as the big sister and take care of her. Take care of her and…someone else in the future now too.

Honey and the boys sit outside under the hot sun, church bells ring in the near distance. She grazes her fingers through the grass, snapping up dandelions from the weeds and weaving the stems through her tangles of hair. She keeps a handful of dandelions in her hand to bury her face into every now and again to take in their sweet yet earthy aroma.

“Would’ya quit sniffin them things. You already know it don’t smell like nothin but grass and dirt.” Elvis teases her. She pouts, throwing one towards his face. He laughs at her attempt, catching it before it can hit his cheek. “Keep stickin your nose in them things and we’ll have to call you Bumble.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Bumble?” She questions.

“Yeah, you know, like the bee. Those big fat ones that pollinate on them flowers. Hey! You’re even fluffy like one too!” He states excitedly, reaching out to rat her curls.

“Does it taste okay?” I ask Pearl.

Her head snaps up, shocked that I just spoke to her. She falters for a moment. “Yeah.”

I nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat. Oh god, what am I doing? I drop my fork onto my plate, resting my forehead in my hand. The loud clank startles her, causing her to stare in uncertainty.

“I’m pregnant.” I blurt out. I stare deep into the grain of the table with a dry, sarcastic hum of a laugh. I didn’t have much else to lose, who cares if she knows? She’s bound to find out eventually anyways. My lip quivers as I gather the strength to continue. “Elvis. He doesn’t know.” Finally I look up at her, tears rolling down my numb face.

“Michael, stop. She ain’t all that bad.”

“Nah, she’s always tryna do what we’re doin and be like us, but she ain’t.” He says, before storming off in a fit.

Honey stands behind one of her porch’s pillars, hiding her glistening eyes. Elvis sees this and immediately walks up to her. “Honey, don’t cry.” But him taking notice only made the tears come out faster. “It don’t matter what he say. I think you’re fine just the way you are.”

She sniffles. “But you’re always making fun of me too.”

He smiles. “Aww, you know I’m just teasin. We all do it all the time. We don’t mean nothin by it. ‘Side, I really like you. I wouldn’t hurt you like that, I’d much rather be your superhero.”

Honey rubs her red eyes, a weak smile tugging at her lips. “Like Captain Marvel?”

His eyes brighten. “Exactly like Captain Marvel.”

She giggles. “What would that make me?”

He thinks for a moment, stroking the nonexist hairs on his soft chin. “A princess.”

She raises her eyebrow. “A princess? That’s not fair, I wanna be someone strong too!”

“You ain’t gotta be strong when you got someone like me.” He teases, kissing the muscles on his scrawny arms.

She rolls her eyes. “Well, even if I’m a princess, I wanna help save the world too.” She demands, arms folded sternly.

He flashes her a generous smile, giving her a promise to hold deep within her heart. “You and me against the world.”

It was from that day forward that their entire view of each other had changed.

Much to my surprise Pearl has an actual sympathetic look on her face. She reaches across the table, grabbing my hand. “I’m sorry.” She says, already choking up. “For everything. My grandparents- Our grandparents used to tell this story about a colored woman that tried to seduce Daddy with her ‘dark magic’, wanted me to think colored folk were all sorts of evil. But you and your Mama are some of the kindest people I have ever met and I feel horrible bout the things I did. I thought acting like grandmaw would help her live on or somethin, but I wasn’t thinkin with my own head.”

She sniffles, rubbing her nose into her sleeve. “I never even liked Elvis, it was all just to make you feel how I did everytime Daddy paid more attention to you. Every time I talked to Elvis all he’d go on about was you. I ain’t never had nobody that talked about me like that or looked at me that way. He really loved you Honey. I thought what y’all were doin was real brave and I can only hope to be as strong as you one day. But I promise you I didn’t call the cops that day!”

Suddenly, she stands up, getting on her knees in front of me. “I’m gonna help you take care of the baby, okay? U-Unless you don’t want me to…?” She pulls her hands away, looking for signs of anger or resentment in my eyes.

I bite my lip, holding back a sob before I pull her into a hug.

She smiles. “I’m gonna help you through this, Honey. We both need each other more than ever right now.”

Pearl and I became incredibly close after that. Pathetic it took something so tragic to finally bring us together, but I was so grateful to have someone with me on this terrifying journey.

Small bike wheels track through the dirt path, coming up to the neighborhood of their owners. The boys catch a glimpse of her at the end of the block.

Honey sits on the porch between her mama’s legs, painfully getting her head yanked back each time her mother starts a new braid in her blonde hair.

The three boys smirk, hair still wet from swimming in the waterhole earlier that day. They quickly adjust their shirts, taking off a strap from their overalls and throwing it over their shoulder to give them a ‘cool’ and uncaring bad boy look. Then they fly by, pedaling fast and talking loud to ensure they caught Honey’s attention.

Elvis pops the wheel on his bike, lifting it in the air for half a second. He smiles, satisfied when he sees a small smirk appear on Honey’s face.

Eventually, I could no longer work and we had no choice but to sell the house and move into one of the poorer neighborhoods on the East side of Memphis. When I said I missed those shack houses in Mississippi, I didn’t know how much I actually meant it until moving here.

Most stores in the area were adorned with broken or boarded up windows and fallen signs. Streets were littered with garbage, rusted cars, and dead trees. And our house was complete with wilted wooden panels, peeling wallpaper, and a smell I could never put my finger on. It was no place to raise a child, but it’d have to do. It’s all we had.

Unfortunately walking and bus taking was something we still had to do since Dad’s car was in the accident. Obviously, I didn’t want Pearl walking alone, so I’d have to make grocery trips with her, baby bump and all.

‘You’re a strong woman, Honey. You’ll get through this.’ Mama’s words haunted me every single day, and every hour that passed it became even harder to believe.

It was hard, for the both of us, but it brought us closer until I finally felt like I had a real sister by my side.

I sit on the couch, rubbing at my sore and stretched belly.

“You got a name yet?” Pearl asks from the floor in front of me.

“Charles.” I say sadly.

She smiles weakly. “And a girl?”

I shrug, with a chuckle. “I don’t know. Maybe somethin original like Maple or Vanilla, like Mama did with me.”

Only a few days later, would I find myself crying and thrashing in the most pain I had ever felt in my life, wishing I had Ma by my side to help me through it. A few months after that, our newest addition to the family ran wildly through our home, ransaking everything in sight and bouncing around with his head full of big blonde curls.

“Charles, baby. Be careful. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” I grab him, picking him up to hold in my arms.

I stroke his soft, puffy cheek as he blows spit bubbles, which naturally pop all over me, but I was used to it by now. He’s got his daddy’s same bright blue eyes and a complexion that would’ve made Ma proud.

He was such a little angel, with an occasional tantrum here and there of course, but he was a smart boy, and a fast learner too. I was so grateful everything turned out easy and peaceful since I hadn’t caught a break for the past year.

Still, I had a big choice to make. Do I tell Charles who his father is? I can’t be like my Mama. I know how much it hurts to have something so personal be kept from you, but now I understand her struggle. Will he try to go after him one day? Will he be disappointed that Elvis is his father? Will he hate me if I never tell him?

Which brings me to the flip side of that issue; Do I tell Elvis? How do I tell him? Will he be disappointed with his son? Will he hate me for not telling him by now? What will happen between him and his new girl if I tell them?

My head hurt just thinking about everything.

On the bright side, I guess my wish of having kids with Elvis came true after all, but I didn’t have my Elvis to share it with.

“Come on, Bumble! Go up there with me!”

He tugs on her arm, but she panically plants her feet right into the ground. “Elvis, I don’t wanna go up there in front of everyone!”

“It’ll be fine. Come on!” With one hard tug, she falls forward, stumbling towards the stage with him.

The choir smiles at them, as well as their mothers. The reverend shouts a heavenly cry, preaching up to the sky.

“Come on, dance! Don’t you feel it?” He asks.

She did feel it. She felt power and dreams course through her veins from their singing. She looks around nervously, before Elvis makes an effort to bring her attention back over to him. His smile eases her little heart. Slowly, she lets his energy infect her, matching his rhythmic jumping and throwing her hands out to her sides.

‘Mmm Mary, don’t you weep

Ohh, Martha, don’t you moan

Pharoah’s army drowned in the Red Sea.’

Eventually all that I had saved up from working at Handy quickly dwindled away, and Pearl and I had no choice but to take up jobs again. Pearl was the first. She easily came by a nice job at one of our local groceries stores, I on the other hand had a few issues to work out. After days of searching I finally came across the church. I applied for their choir, which luckily I was hired for. I was nervous to start singing again, but at least I could build my voice back up without being heard too upfront, not to mention it was the only job that came with daycare.

I grew up on the music and loved it, but honestly, being back in the church was hard for me. I was anything but pure, and people knew it.

Night had fallen. They should have gone back home by now, but they were too entranced by the bar that was more lively than ever. Peeking into the window, the two find a scene that blessed their senses. This was something different, something they had never heard before, something they knew they shouldn’t be seeing.

“We should try that.” The boy says.

Honey jumps down from the window to face him. “I don’t know how to dance like that, Elvis”

“Neither do I. I just copy what they do.”

She falters for a moment, unsure if she should give in to the things she was feeling, but puts her hands on his shoulders no less. They sway back and forth to the music that muffled through the poor sealing of the window. She lifts her head to peek through the glass every now and again to make sure she’s imitating the adult woman correctly.

Then she sees them do something she knew her mama wouldn’t like. The dancer twirls her hips, reaching up to leave a heated kiss against the man she was with.

Honey shrugs. Well, if it was what they were doing.

She moves closer to Elvis, reaching up until-

A gasp fills the air, loud above the blues music coming from inside the building. The two children part from each other in horror, seeing Ms. James towering above them.

“Go on back home, boy, ‘fore I tell ya mama what you been up to.” She threatens. He swiftly scurries off, leaving Honey to her mother. She grabs her childs hand, marching back to their house. “Honey, if I ever catch you doin that again, I swear-. You ain’t listenin to anymore of that music!”

Oh, I got plenty looks when people saw Charles and I, ‘specially when I’d have to explain the whole father situation. My usual story was that his dad went into the army, but as time rolled by, everyone began to realize how unlikely of a story that was. For those that cared enough, rumors were passed around. Some say I slept with so many men that I didn’t actually know who the father was. Others think he was born from a one night stand. Obviously, I couldn’t tell them Elvis was the father, and I doubt that would HELP to ease all the rumors anyway. Regardless, I quickly became the epitome and walking consequence of lust.

Honey’s mother didn’t let her leave often after that, leaving her silenced in her room. Only occasionally would she be allowed out to play with the boys, including the day she finally got to share a special kiss with her especially favorite friend.

She was excited to see Elvis again, hoping to have another moment like that again as soon as possible, but when she sees him again she’s met with something that breaks her heart.

“I ain’t got no idea what you’re talkin bout.”

She crosses her arms, hoping and praying he was just pulling another prank on her. “Yesterday…when you kissed me…”

He chuckles in a sarcastic tone. “I don’t remember nothin. You musta been dreamin bout me.” He says with a smirk, the other boys snickering behind him.

She had never felt so embarrassed in her life. Betrayed by someone she thought was her friend.

I ran into B.B. King a few times at the church, who became a frequent visitor after that, when he wasn’t on tour anyways.

He came up to me on my way out one day. “Honey, long time no see.” He says, hugging me.

I squeeze him back, so very happy to see a familiar face after so long. “It’s so nice to see you, King.”

One of the girls brings Charles into the room, playfully chasing after him and his sloppy, bow legged steps.

He pulls away with a sad look. “I saw about E.P.” He awkwardly tucks his hands into his pocket. I respond with a defeated sign. “Now, it ain’t none of my business, but if you don’t mind me askin, what happened between you two? You both seemed real happy together, besides the whole jail thing, which I assume played a role in all of this.”

I let out a weak chuckle. “What? He never told you what happened himself?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, we lost touch a while ago.”

Charles stomps his way over to grab onto my leg with a toy in his mouth, his wet hands instantly getting slobber on my shin. I pick him up, awkwardly turning back to King.

“Honey, I’m sorry about all the things I said to you before.”

“It’s okay, Michael. I know you were just jealous you weren’t as good at playing ball as I was.” She states confidently.

He laughs, neither denying nor confirming the accuracy of her words, but instead fumbling with his fingers. “It’s just that- Honey, I-”

“What are you two doin?” Elvis interrupts.

They both look up at him, neither pleased by his presence. Honey crosses her arms, turning back to Michael. “You were saying.”

“Well, I, uh…” He swallows, nervously.

Honey waits for him to answer, but Elvis catches on fast, pushing Michael off of the bench before he can spill his next words. Elvis throws punches at him, but Michael throws them right back. Honey jumps up, attempting to push them away from each other, but it does no good.

“You never even liked her!” Elvis shouts.

“Man, you don’t either, remember!”

“Boys! What the hell’s going on here?!”

It takes their mothers to finally pry them away from each other. They breath heavily, eyeing each other while they get dragged away.

King raises a confused eyebrow. “That baby yours?”

I nod. “Yeah… His name’s Charles.”

He takes a closer look at him, taking in his lighter complexion, blonde hair, and baby blue eyes. He cranes his neck back in thought, before hesitating out, “E.P.’s?”

I stay quiet, biting at my lip and bouncing the baby on my hip. He takes this as a yes.

“He know?”

I shake my head, still not trusting my strength to admit anything out loud just yet.

He pulls me into another hug. “Look, anytime you need anything you tell me. You know us Handy kids will always be a family.” He pulls away, smiling at the baby. “Besides, you’re too talented to lose.”

“Oh whatever.” I laugh out, before taking on a sympathetic tone. “But thank you.”

“We’re moving away.” He says, glooming under the warm, sunny day.

“Okay, Elvis.” She states doubtfully.

He’s always saying him and his family are gonna travel the world and do this and that, but he never does, nothing but little lies and big dreams. The boy who cried wolf. It’s not until she looks outside her window the next morning that she realizes for once he was telling the truth.

Elvis sits in the back of his family’s car, his father packing the final bag in the trunk.

Her heart quickens. She speedily races outside, standing on her lawn as the family drives past her. Elvis watches his friend from the window, waving. She was in too much shock to wave back, but she’d regret for years that she didn’t. Her friend was gone. And she’d never see him again.

Or so she thought.

The days became an endless game of survival, trying to keep Pearl safe and Charles happily fed. Always felt like there wasn’t enough of something.

Life felt like nothing but a yellow brick road, except there was no good witch, no singing or dancing, no powerful wizard to fix all my problems, just an endless road that once led to my dreams, but after years of walking, I had long given up hope of ever finding my way home again.

- Taglist -

@tearupmyhead @chouetteschaussettes @il-giardino @theliterarybeldam @re3kin @anangelwhodidntfall @felicityroth @crash-and-cure @mama-pankow @tzillas @wonderlandlovelove @mirandastuckinthe80s @queenslandlover-93 @coconutessential @pumkiinpasties @buckybarnesbitch00000000 @biafbunny @darkestbeforethedawn16 @dollfaceyourfear @adoreyouusugar @hails-schae @spacegh0ul @im-lame-irl @sargspiderbarnes @whisperily @whatawildone @lukasdreamland @carioquisse

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cruelxfantasies · 2 years ago

Text

All I Want

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Word Count: 6.5k

18+, minors DNI

You’re the drummer of corroded coffin and you can't get your best friend who's in the band out of your head.

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The nervousness came first, bubbling in the pit of your stomach before washing over your entire body as the band was introduced – Corroded Coffin’s first house show. When Gareth’s parents decided it was time for them to move out of Hawkins, whisking away the former drummer down to sunny Florida, the band was left with a gaping hole that, for some reason, you were persuaded into filling.

You hadn’t played since you were younger, your parents selling the kit they had bought you for a mortgage payment that needed to be made. Without it, you simply felt lost – until you ran into Eddie Munson at the record store. A quick conversation about the vinyl you were holding, a copy of Slayer’s first album, and the next day, you were in the Hideout watching the boys practice. While all of them were good musicians, you couldn’t help that your eyes tended to focus on Eddie as he strummed his Warlock NJ, his hardened voice opening the door for your thoughts to go a place they probably shouldn’t. There was nothing like it.

As soon you sat down in front of your drum kit, sticks in hand – nothing else mattered. The nervous feeling dissipated, adrenaline beginning to course through your veins as Eddie turned towards you slightly, catching your gaze and awarding you a wink before counting you down to kick off Corroded Coffin’s part of the show.

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“Holy shit, that was fucking amazing!” you yelled, running out of the house and into the summer air. “I’ve never felt anything like that in my entire goddamn life!” The other boys whooped and hollered, high-fiving one another while Eddie couldn’t help but grin in your direction, pulling a joint from his pocket.

“There’s nothing quite like it, is there, y/n?” he asked, lighting the joint. You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your own face, feeling as though you were floating.

“I mean, I thought beforehand, it would go okay and hopefully we wouldn’t get our asses booed off the stage, but holy shit, they actually wanted us to keep going.” You breathed heavily, still needing to catch your breath after all of the excitement. “For the record – I wasn’t sure if playing Paranoid was the best idea, I thought Children of the Grave all the way. You were right, Eddie.”

“Of course I was right, baby,” he shook his head at you. “I give the people what they want.”

‘Baby’ made you bite your lip softly, a satisfied sigh leaving you louder than you’d realized.

“You alright?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, inhaling the joint and passing it over to you. You nodded at him, taking the weed and sucking in a good amount – you wanted to ride this high from the show as long as you could, and you coughed, Eddie chuckling at you. He moved to sit on the grass, patting the spot next to him and you accepted the invitation, spreading out slightly and hanging your head back, looking up at the night sky littered with stars.

“I could get used to this,” you commented. Eddie hummed in response, the two of you passing the blunt back and forth in silence – reveling in the feelings that accompanied the show. You supposed you had Eddie to thank for this. Turning to face Eddie, you crossed your legs and picked at the grass. “I wanted to let you know how much this all means to me – you know, trusting me enough to take Gareth’s spot, it couldn’t have been easy for any of you. Especially, you.” You sighed. “I know that I’m probably the best you could get on such short notice and it won’t hurt my feelings when you actually put an ad out for a new drummer. I just… thank you, Eddie.” You finally looked up, met with a face full of confusion. “What?” you laughed, intrigued.

“Do you really think that low of yourself?” he wondered, not even waiting for you to reply. “You were my first and only choice for this spot, y/n. Gareth’s one of my closest friends and all, but I’m not sure he would have been able to keep the crowd’s attention going like that. And I know, a part of it has to do with me being lead and all,” you looked at him wryly, of course he couldn’t help but give himself a compliment, “but you were fucking connecting with them in there.”

Eddie reached out, taking one of your hands in his, the blunt in his other. His thumb stroked the back of your hand softly and you found comfort in the action, enjoying the feeling of his slightly calloused fingers upon your skin. “Don’t sell yourself short, yeah?”

“I won’t,” you stated quietly, surprised by what he’d said. You had no idea that he had thought so much of your abilities. You weren’t as confident as you once used to be when it came to playing music, and you weren’t sure you could ever feel that way again. However, when Eddie talked about you like this, it made you feel as though one day you could see yourself in a stadium.

Eddie didn’t release your hand, opting to keep possession, while your other continued to just feel the grass, soft and cool. The one thing on your mind was how much you wanted to kiss the man in front of you. To feel his lips on yours. You wondered what they would taste like, what they would feel like. Chapped? Eddie was always carrying chapstick around in his jeans, strawberry flavored. You wouldn’t mind. His lips would then move to your neck, feeling your pulse as it raced, eager for him to keep moving, to feel him everywhere and to feel his mouth on your –

It wasn’t until then you realized Eddie was saying your name repeatedly and you were staring at his lips, his tongue wetting the flesh. Your cheeks burned with heat and you ducked your head.

“Oh God, Eddie, I’m sorry – I zoned out for a minute and I’m really high –”

“What were you thinking?” His voice was low – you couldn’t get a read on the situation.

“Nothing, I wasn’t – “

“Tell me what it was you were thinking.” Eddie commanded. The authority in his voice sent a shiver through you.

“Promise you won’t be upset or anything?” You were still apprehensive, but a voice within you told you that telling the truth was the best thing you could do.

“I promise, y/n.”

You sighed, making eye contact with Eddie. “I was thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”

“And? Is that all?”

“Yes.” You averted your eyes, and he caught on to your lie.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You removed your hand from his grasp, moving to pick at the small space of grass between the two of you. “Fine, but don’t make fun of me either. Like I said, you can’t be upset and now you can’t laugh.” He nodded in agreement. “Okay. A thought passed through my mind of you doing more than kissing me, but it was only momentarily.”

When you met his eyes again, they were a darker shade – filled with a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You’d never seen it before. “What was I doing?”

You gulped, nervous to continue, but you were already too far in to go back now. “You were moving your lips down my neck, finding my sweet spot easily. As if you already knew.”

Eddie looked like he might respond, lips parting slightly, when a voice boomed from your left. “Guys, come on! The next set is starting.” Disappointment hit you like a train, wanting to know if there was any tiny possibility of your closest friend feeling the same way about you. But whatever moment had very there – it was gone as quick as it had arrived. Eddie stood up with his arm outstretched, hand out, to help pull you up and you grabbed it, standing upright. The four of you headed back into the house.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie’s words about your musical abilities ignited something within you, your confidence growing over the next few weeks; so much that even your other band mates noticed and it showed in the performances. Corroded Coffin’s schedule was getting busier as you were invited to even more house shows. It finally hit you that the band’s popularity was spreading, Corroded Coffin booking a show in a city half an hour away and considerably bigger than Hawkins . While nothing could make you happier, you couldn't shove aside the anxiety you felt towards Eddie. There had been nothing said about that night of the first show. It was as though he'd never asked you what you thought about, as if you never answered him. You sat at your drum kit, twirling the stick in your hand and bopping your head to the cassette tape playing Dead or Alive’s You Spin Me Right Round (Like a Record) as Jeff and Eddie worked through an argument about which song to play tomorrow.

“We’re playing Run to the Hills,” you heard Eddie say, and your eyes found him, as he tuned his guitar. “And I swear to god, y/n, if you play this song one more time, I’m banning you from Corroded Coffin.” You knew the threat was harmless, but you leaned over, turning the volume down to a low hum.

“Jump is better suited for this one, Eddie,” Jeff argued. “We need to play to the crowd, not just a few people who might like a band that you have a hard on for.” You winced at that, knowing that was the wrong thing to say as soon as you saw the flash of offense cross Eddie’s features. And you were right as Eddie started back with, “You think I don't know what -”

“Stop it!” you yelled, putting your drum stick down, standing up indignantly. “The both of you just shut up. Arguing isn't going to fucking do anything.” They looked at you, seemingly surprised at your outburst. You had no idea what you were even going to say, walking over to your friends slowly and thinking quickly for a resolution. “Since Dan is over 15 minutes late for practice, we’re just going to cut his cover this time around and do both Run to the Hills and Jump. Deal?”

They stared at you for another moment longer before looking at each other and nodding. “Alright, fine,” Eddie agreed, reaching out to shake Jeff’s hand. “At least you have another use today instead of replaying that song into the ground.” You put your hand over your heart, as if he said something meaningful. Eddie chuckled, shaking his head at you.

It was another five minutes before you saw Dan crossing the street, heading for the garage. The sun was layers of burnt orange, purplish sky against the horizon at this point and you stared him down as he finally made it in. You weren't the only one.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Last practice before the show and you're late,” Eddie told him. “Get here on time or I’m going to kick your ass.” Both you and Jeff made “Oooo” sounds, as if he was being sent to the principal’s office.

Daniel rolled his eyes, grabbing his bass from the stand. “Come on, let’s start playing before Eddie murders me and you're all stuck here trying to hide a body.” That was enough for Eddie as he looked at you, counting for you to come in and start the practice with Run for the Hills.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You weren’t running behind, but you couldn’t help feeling as though you needed to rush while you were getting ready – Charlotte Sometimes by The Cure playing quietly on the record player in the background. You sat on your bed, preparing to put on your Docs when there was a knock on your door. Glancing at the clock, Eddie was 15 minutes early, which you found slightly irritating. Answering the door, you put your hand on your hip as Eddie came into view. “What gives, Munson? You’re early and I’m not done. You must be really eager to see me,” you joked, turning away and heading back to your bedroom to finish getting ready for the show. Eddie didn’t immediately follow you, probably heading to the kitchen for a quick drink before you left. The band came over all of the time and knew they were welcome to anything in the kitchen, as long as they didn’t eat the entirety of it.

When he came around the corner, you saw that you were right – Coke in hand. You turned back towards the mirror, saying, “I’ll be done in a minute… I have to finish putting this liner on and then my shoes.” You saw him nod in the mirror’s reflection, sitting down on the edge of your bed and sipping on the Coke. You could feel him watching you. It didn’t make you nervous. You drew heavy lines on your top lids, taking the pencil lightly against the bottom of your eye, nearly poking yourself when he said, “I don’t know how you do that shit, honestly,” he observed.

You turned fully away from the mirror, pencil in hand, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. “Want to find out?” You bit your lip, the image of Eddie wearing eyeliner making you warm.

“Oh, hell no, you’re not getting near me with that thing.”

“Come on, I promise I won’t maim you. If I do… You can have my kit and teach yourself to play something that’s actually hard.”

His eyes widened at your jab, a whistle leaving his mouth. “Fine. But hurry, we gotta get going.”

“Lay back, then,” you stated, motioning him to scoot up on the bed. He sat the drink on the table next to your bed, doing as you told him. You didn’t even think about the fact that your shoes would be on your bed, which normally would gross you out, as you got on top of Eddie, somewhat straddling him with your pencil at the ready. You were very aware of everything going on right now, including the slight arousal rushing to your core at the reality of the situation. You noticed his eyes flit towards your breasts, feeling your cheeks get warm.

“Okay, now close your eyes,” you instructed. You started with this left eye, putting the black liner to his skin. You were sure he could feel your breath on him, your nervous breathing at that. “This is quite cozy, isn’t it?” he smirked, opening the eye that you weren’t applying makeup to yet. You paused, leaning back to look indignantly at him. “Edward Munson, you really will be without an eye if you don’t keep your mouth shut while I do this.” He put his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ motion and you couldn’t help but smile, moving back to your previous position as his hands came to rest lightly on your thighs. Focus. You needed to focus on the task at hand and not become distracted by the way his fingers felt against your thigh, his fingertips moving in slow circles against the fishnets. God, it was distracting.

“Have you put makeup on anyone else before?” he wondered, keeping at the circles.

Your breath was shaky as you moved to the other eye, noticing how pretty his eyelashes were.

“Just for a friend – for a dance at school.”

“Like this?”

You chuckled. “No, not like this. It just seemed easier to do it this way this time around.” It was partially true. You leaned away from him once you were done, surveying your work. His eyelashes were longer, more luscious than you’d ever realized. He was beautiful. He opened his eyes, meeting your own. There was a long moment – his mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something exactly like the night of the first show, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever get a taste of the man in front of you.

It was you who broke the eye contact, getting up off of him and straightening your outfit. “Go look in the bathroom mirror and tell me what you think.”

“If I look like I just left bed, I want a goddamn refund,” he threatened, pointing his finger at you. You placed the eyeliner back with the rest of your makeup, fixing your hair at your desk. “I look fucking good,” he yelled, running back into your bedroom. You couldn’t argue with him – Eddie in eyeliner was something different, but entirely tempting. The arousal that was still present within you multiplied. God, you wanted him to fucking devour you, wearing that liner. You nearly moaned as your eyes raked over him one last time before you gathered your things and left, not caring if he noticed your behavior.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crowd yelled as the emcee announced Corroded Coffin, the energy from the floor making its way to you. You weren’t nervous this time. The mixture of smells – of beer, B.O, burgers and fries, didn’t bother you. While Eddie talked to the crowd, introducing each of you, your focus was on the sixteenth notes of Run to the Hills that you were about to play. Your raised your drumstick in the air when he got to you, getting a few hoots and hollers as you looked out with a grin on your face – you were ready. You moved to hit the hi-hat double handed, – right then left, right then left, hitting the floor tom and the medium tom together, then moving back to the hi hat, Eddie coming in on the lead guitar and microphone.

"White man across the sea,

He brought us pain and misery,

He killed our tribes, he killed our creed,

He took our game for his own need

We fought him hard, we fought him well

Out on the plains we gave him hell

But many came, too much for Cree

Oh, will we ever be set free?"

The song picked up immediately, and you were glad you’d decided to take your leather jacket off before the song started.

"Riding through dust clouds and barren wastes

Galloping hard on the plains

Chasing the redskins back to their holes

Fighting them at their own game

Murder for freedom the stab in the back

Women and children are cowards, attack

Run to the hills

Run for your lives

Run to the hills

Run for your lives"

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You all decided to close out on a song that you and Eddie had written together months ago, Stars for a Lifetime. Your first time playing it live in front of a crowd and you couldn’t believe the reception it had. It wasn’t exactly metal, caught between that and rock, a mixture of both of your personalities. Hours of time together at your apartment, crumpled pieces of paper thrown at each other, long naps on the couch and plenty of takeout. They were memories you held onto. As you finished out the song with a crash of the cymbals, Eddie looked over at you with the most adoring gaze you’d ever seen – you could see the pride in his eyes and the satisfaction you felt at knowing how proud he was of you was unmatched. Heading off of side stage, you put up the standard rock n roll salute towards the crowd. You felt alive and you could tell Eddie did too as he highfived Jeff and Dan, running over to you and picking you up, spinning you around in excitement over the events of the night. “Can you believe that just fucking happened?” he asked, and you knew it was rhetorical but you answered anyway. “I know, I know. You did so amazing up there, Eddie. The crowd loved you.” You weren’t just saying it to flatter him. He knew exactly how to work them when he was up on the stage. He placed you back down and he took a deep breath. “The crowd loved us, y/n. All of the hours paid off.” You nodded, unable to wipe the smile off of your face even if you wanted to. You were close enough to him that you could see the streaks of eyeliner beginning to run down his face and you wanted to reach out, wanted to wipe away the black. You couldn’t. As you walked back towards the small room where the four of you had gotten ready, you didn’t notice the fact that Eddie couldn’t find it within him to take his eyes off of you.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you woke up to a loud knock at your door and cursed whoever the fuck it was that they were dragging you out of the best sleep you’d had in weeks. “I swear to god, if this isn’t important, you might find your most precious valuables thrown in a fire,” you announced, threatening whoever was at the door. You opened it, surprised to find Eddie there.

“And a good morning to you, too, y/n,” Eddie greeted, shaking his head as he pushed past a startled you.

You closed the door behind him, turning around. “Why the hell are you here? I thought we weren’t meeting up until day after tomorrow, to give us all a small break.”

“We aren’t, but I… I needed to see you?” he phrased it as a question.

“What about? Is something going on?” you quickly turned worried that something had gone wrong, that something had happened between last night and now. “Are you in trouble? Did you do something?”

Eddie licked his lips, beginning to laugh. “That’s your first thought? That I might be in trouble with the cops?”

You rolled your eyes. “I know how rebellious you are so who knows what you do when I’m not around to watch you.”

Eddie sat down on the couch, looking strained. His eyebrows were furrowed and you could see that there was something bothering him, although you couldn’t be sure what it was. You walked around the coffee table, taking a seat next to him and placing a hand on his arm.

“You can talk to me, Eds. Please tell me what’s going on.”

He sighed, standing back up again and beginning to pace. “You. You are what’s going on. You’re everywhere. You’re at band practice, you’re always hanging out, you’re –”

“Well,” you interjected, “that’s what happens when you invite someone to join a band.”

He stopped pacing, looking at you, brushing his hair out of his face. “And that mouth – you always have something to say, doesn’t matter who’s talking, and sometimes I want to just shut you up – and then yesterday, you put that goddamned eyeliner on me and you’re on top of me in those fishnets and it took every ounce of self control I have not to fuck you right then and there or we would’ve been late to the show.” He paused. “Do you see what you do to me? You drive me insane and I can’t get enough of you even when I haven’t even had any of you.”

You were sure the look you were giving him showcased absolute shock as he chuckled. “Eddie, I…” God, he was perfect even now. Even as you could see how nervous he was under the cool exterior he portrayed to the public, to you sometimes. “ I told you what I thought about so long ago, after that first show and you did nothing. Why didn’t you? Instead, you let me go on as though nothing happened and I started to believe it never actually happened, that I was crazy.”

Your eyes met, his filled with apology. “I wanted you and I wanted to tell you that, y/n. And Jeff came over and I thought what was best to forget about it. And I tried. But god, I can’t ignore it. And you drive me up a wall when you play that damn Spin Me Right Round song because what even is that song doing even playing at a practice because now you’ve got me liking some pop song that I wouldn’t have been caught dead listening to.”

You stood up, indignant. “Hey, that is a good fucking song and I won’t let you shit talk my eclectic music taste.”

He hung his head, a booming laugh escaping him. “You are something else, you know that?”

“I know.” You bit your lip hard, your next words surprising you both. “But will you please just kiss me?”

Eddie took a step toward you, no apprehension in his stance as his hands grabbed your face, lips crashing against yours with a sense of urgency. The force of it caused you to ache with want. His teeth tugged at your lower lip, tongue sweeping past your lips – you could taste the breath you shared. Your hands found his biceps, squeezing the flesh and you moaned into his mouth as your tongues tangled together. Eddie’s hands left your face as he pulled away, foreheads touching momentarily before he lifted his index finger to your mouth – you sucked on it slowly, drawing a groan out of Eddie, the sound going straight to your pussy. You wanted to hear more.

“Regret not saying anything to me until now?” you smiled, your voice filled with arrogance but also sickly sweet.

“As much as I hate to feed that growing ego of yours – yeah, I do.” You yelped surprisingly as he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist instinctually, already feeling his erection through his jeans and you moaned at the feeling of him against you, already wanting him inside you. But you knew you had to wait. You’d waited for so long already, what could a little while longer hurt?

Your mouths found each other once again, your hands in his hair now as he walked the both of you to your bedroom – Eddie had you on the unmade bed immediately and god, you’re already bucking your hips up towards him to feel something, to feel anything. He chuckles darkly, and you know that he knows how eager you are to get a piece of him.

“Slow down, baby, I’ll give you what you want soon,” he whispered against your lips and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped you. Your pussy was throbbing now and you were ravenous for him, after all this time. Eddie thrived on how desperate you were.

With one leg wrapped around him, you pull him in closer and the kiss was deep, hungry. You felt as though you barely had enough air left in your lungs but you didn’t care – Eddie’s mouth moved down to your neck, peppering light kisses against your throat before it turned to sucking and biting, the noises obscene and it felt so good, all of it continuing to grow the raging fire within you. You felt one of his hands began to dance down the side of your body, reaching your underwear and he pulled away from your neck. “Is that okay?” he asked for permission and you nearly melted right then and there.

“More than okay,” you breathed heavily. “Please keep going.”

His hand continued to move south, feeling your already soaked underwear and you couldn’t find it to care about how your body reacted to him. Eddie swore. “God, you’re so wet for me already, baby,” he said, licking his lips. Eddie teased you, rubbing two fingers along thefabric and your hips started to move, needing more, legs clamping around him.

“Please,” you whimpered, face feeling hot. “I kind of hate that I’m in the position of needing to beg, but I need you to do something before I lose my shit.”

Eddie laughed and he paused, switching into a different position where he was completely between your legs now.

“Can you do me a favor, babe?” and you nodded quickly. You would do whatever as long as it meant Eddie would be touching in mere second. “I need you,” Eddie began removing his multitude of rings from his fingers, “to keep these safe for me.” You put your hand out, collecting the jewelry and quickly putting them on the table next to you. If there was a next time, you wanted him to fuck you with the rings on.

“Now get a move on, Munson or –” you gasped deeply as you felt his fingers trace along your slit, one finger delving into your folds painstakingly slow and you nearly screamed at the contact. Your hands grasped at the bed sheets, Eddie pushing his finger deeper into you.

He watched your features contort as the pleasure started making its way through your body. It was then you watched as he removed his finger from your pussy, placing it in his mouth and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head. Fuck, that was hot.

“How do I taste?” you chuckled weakly.

“So fucking good,” he replied, voice deep with arousal. His hands pushed your legs apart even further as he moved to press light kisses to your thighs. He was teasing you and you were sure he was getting off on it, marking you with his teeth and sucking large purple brusies onto your tender flesh.

“Get on with it,” you pleaded, hoping your intrusion didn’t get you in any sort of trouble.

His mouth was somewhat pressed against the skin as he replied, muffled. “But I love hearing your voice when you beg for me, it’s hot.”

“We’ll have plenty of time in the future for you to get more out of me,” you sighed, wetting your lips with your tongue. It was then that two hands made quick work of completely removing your underwear, your pussy hitting the cold air and you shivered slightly.

“You’re beautiful like this, on display for me,” he said, voice thick as he kept his eyes on your core. “Hand me a pillow.” Not even looking anywhere but down at Eddie, your hand reached for one and presented it to him, prompting him to ask you to lift your hips up to place the pillow underneath.

You weren’t sure you understood, but it made you more comfortable which you didn’t mind at all.

Eddie looked up at you through his lashes, eyes dark, as two of his fingers delved back inside you and you threw your head back, a moan passing through your lips. You stopped yourself from moving your hips as his fingers started pounding you, his other hands atop your abdomen, pressing down. You couldn’t contain your noises once his mouth was on you, licking from his fingers to the top of pussy, mouth closing around your clit and you swear nothing could ever feel like this, nothing ever had.

“R-right there,” you choked out, having to remind yourself to breath as his fingers found the perfect spot to hit inside you and with his mouth on you, it was all so much. “Eddie, please, it feels so good.”

He groaned against you and the vibrations caused you to spasm slightly, your body not your own anymore. The pace of his fingers picked up, and you were nearly crying now, a tear slowly rolling down your pleasured face.

“Come on, baby, give me what you’ve got,” Eddie demanded, lips finding your clit once again and nothing ever felt like this. No one had made you feel this bliss, this ecstasy – not even yourself. Sure, you knew the right moves to get you across the finish life, but fuck, this was something different.

“Eddie, I’m so close,” you gasped.

“I know, sweet girl, come for me,” he said, his assault on your pussy quickening and becoming stronger. Another press on your abdomen and you were unraveling for him, giving him what he had been chasing. You couldn’t control your moans, your cries – you were floating, seeing stars. You heard Eddie’s voice and it slowly brought you back to reality, eyes focusing on the handsome face in front of you.

“Hi,” you whispered.

He smiled at you. “Hi. You alright?”

You nodded, feeling more like yourself now and the care he was showing you now was unfamiliar to you – no one had ever treated you like this. For some reason, this caused a whole new wave of arousal to crash into you. You were still hungry for Eddie.

“Need you inside me now,” you said, reaching for him and pulling him into another deep kiss. You could taste the remnants of your orgasm on his lips but it didn’t bother you – you just wanted him as close as possible. Eddie lifted your shirt off you first before removing his own clothes and you caught yourself staring at it all and while you would’ve been embarrassed a week ago for him to see you look at him hungrily – he’d just eaten you out. There was nothing to hide from.

“You’re prettier than me,” you pouted and he laughed, crawling back onto the bed and on top of you, your hands moving to weave into his long hair but he stopped you, gripping your wrists above your head and you whimpered.

“This is a bit different from yesterday, isn’t it?” he asked, his cockiness making you bite your lip. Why did he get to be in charge this entire time, have you underneath him?

You broke free from his grasp, rolling the both of you so you were on top of him.

“Maybe you should be more aware of who you’re up against,” you smirked, placing a hand upon his chest while your other hand found his cock, lining yourself up and slowly sinking onto him. You both moaned loudly at the same time and it was a melody – Eddie’s cock stretched you out as your pussy grew accustomed to the intrusion. “Fucking shit,” he rasped, and you started moving your hips, the hand that was on his chest, now lightly wrapped around his throat as you found your rhythm. “So much better than all of the times I imagined –” he groaned, trying to continue, “all the times I imagined you on my dick.” If it was possible, his admission of thinking of you like this before made you even wetter.

“Y-You’re not the only o-one, fuck this feels amazing” you breathed out, your work and pleasure taking most of your breath out of you. You slowed down the gyration of your hips so you would be able to speak clearly. “Before I went to sleep last night, I thought of you fucking me while wearing the eyeliner and shit, it was the strongest orgasm I’d had before now.”

Your words seemed to have turned a switch on in Eddie as he quickly moved your arm out of the way, hands gripping your hips roughly as he started pounding into you and you were unable to say anything more – only moans mixed with cries of “Eddie” leaving your mouth.

“Say my name again,” he ordered you and you complied, his name almost like a prayer to you now, asking for him to give you everything and anything.

“Fuck, I’m close again, I can’t,” you struggled for breath. His pace was carnal and brutal and he was fucking you like a doll at this point, you were letting him do whatever he wanted to you. Your hands moved to grab at your breasts, squeezing your nipples and he watched.

“You can come, pretty girl, come for me a second time,” he encouraged and Eddie calling you a pretty girl was all you needed as your walls squeezed him, your orgasm rolling over you, Eddie spilling into you only seconds later with a growl as you milked every last drop from his cock. You fell straight onto his chest, absolutely exhausted and still breathing heavily. “Still okay?” he asked and you nodded, kissing his collarbone. “Gotta get cleaned up,” he said, slipping out of you and you winced at the emptiness as you moved off of him, Eddie standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched him throw on his jeans, walk out of the bedroom and it was then that the gravity of the situation hit you.

The band. Your friendship. Could your friendship survive this if something went wrong? Would Jeff and Dan be able to handle a relationship that was in the midst of their band? Would Eddie even be worried about any of that?

You stood up, heading over to your drawers and locating a new pair of underwear but throwing on the same shirt you had on before. When he came back, you were sitting cross legged on the bed facing him. It was reminiscent of the night after the first show. Eddie sat across from you, putting a finger under you chin so you would look up at him.

“Don’t go getting weird on me now, babe. That was some of my best work.”

Eddie’s goal was achieved as you chuckled, smiling at him. You pulled at your fingers – a nervous tic that he knew about you all too well. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?” he wondered.

You took a moment to respond, hoping to get your point across. “I don’t want to ruin anything between the band or us. You’re my best friend and my bandmate – both that matter to me very much. We work together well when it comes to the band, especially when writing music together. I mean, Stars for a Lifetime is a fucking masterpiece. And I don’t want to lose that because we decided to tear one off this morning.”

You hated that this was even an issue. It had all happened so quickly, but there wasn’t a trace of regret in your features as you looked at him. It was the complete opposite.

Eddie lifted a finger to his lips, in thought, and you raised your eyebrows at him after a few seconds indicating that you very much needed a response.

He sighed. “I care about you – more than anyone else, yeah? Those nights writing were some of the best I’ve ever had and we created something I don’t think I could with anyone else. Me coming over here wasn’t to get you in bed, although it was a nice addition, don’t get me wrong.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “We won’t mess up the band. Jeff and Dan won’t give a shit unless we no longer know how to play our instruments. Trust me on that.”

There was a lengthy pause before he spoke again. “If I’m going to be over here more than usual, does that mean I’ll have to hear that Dead or Alive song all the time?”

You nodded, a grin working its way onto your face. “And you don’t get to complain about it or I’ll kick you out on your ass.”

“Like I said earlier, I’m starting to like it.”

You shook your head, telling Eddie you were going to grab some juice when he called your name as you were at the bedroom door. You turned around.

“And don’t think I forgot about the eyeliner scenario you mentioned.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic

149 notes · View notes

jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

Text

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #osamu #osamu miya

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bangtanloverboys · 4 years ago

Text

baked // myg

summary - it should be known that whenever you smoke, you tend to get a little extra needy for yoongi

pairing - stoner boyfriend!yoongi x girlfriend!reader

genre - smut, fluff; stoner au, established relationship au, good bad choices au

word count - 1.6k

warning - drug usage/smoking weed, shot gunning, lots of kisses, making out, oral sex, semi-public-sex (it’s at a party), sex while high, a singular bite, rip seokjin tho

author’s note - happy 420 my dudes! this is connected to my smau good bad choices it’s not relevant that you read it to understand the couple/dynamic. but if you’re interested in them, feel free to check it out. yes i accidentally posted this last week

The date was April 20th, meaning it was Seokjin’s annual 420 party. Apparently every year, he’d host a party at his place for him and his friends to just hang out, smoke weed, and chill out. Curled up next to your boyfriend on the couch, you watched as a joint was passed around, which was currently being handed off to Yoongi. You stared as he placed the filter between his lips, breathing in the smoke. As he pulled the joint away from him, Yoongi made eye contact with you and patted his lap. You scrunched your eyebrows, not quite understanding what he meant.

“He wants to shotgun it to you!” Seokjin called from the other end of the circle.

Your face began to burn, you looked back to Yoongi who had since breathed out his first toke. Biting your lip, you swung a leg over his lap. A smile grew on his face as you settled onto his thighs, straddling him now. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” His voice was low as he clarified with you.

“I want to.” You responded.

Not breaking eye contact, he brought the joint back to his lips, inhaling deeply. When he pulled it away again, you moved to have your mouth hover over his. You closed your eyes as he exhaled, breathing in the smoke. His free hand sneaked it’s way up to the back of your neck, holding you still. Holding it for a few seconds, you breathed it back out. Immediately, Yoongi crashed his lips against yours, pulling you into a breathtaking kiss. There was a mix of groans and whoops as you kissed your boyfriend. Not wanting to give them too much of a show, you broke the kiss. With one last peck to his cheek, you flopped off his lap and let him pass the joint to the next person.

It wasn’t long until you began to feel the effects, your brain slowly melting as you cuddled closer to your boyfriend. The party continued on, Seokjin brought out food from the kitchen and turned on a movie. With an arm wrapped around you, Yoongi began to lean back further into the couch, taking you down with him. Now laying flush against him, you trained your eyes forward to watch the movie.

Unfortunately for you though, the movie did little to keep your attention. Instead, all you could focus on was the light drag of Yoongi’s hand as he gently rubbed your back. The touch, however innocent, sent chills down your spine. It should come as no surprise to you that when you got high, you ended up being more touchy feely with Yoongi (the few times you had smoked with him usually ended up with sloppy make out sessions and lazy touching). You turned your head up to look at Yoongi, who’s eyes were glued to the TV screen. Feeling you shift, he turned to meet your gaze.

“You alright, angel?” He questioned softly.

“Mmhmm,” you responded as you leaned closer to his face. Yoongi stiffened, but made no effort to stop you. You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, slowly peppering him with soft kisses.

His grip on you tightened. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you whispered as your mouth found its way to his earlobe, giving it a slight tug between your teeth. Seemingly, that was all it took to wind Yoongi up as you felt his growing erection pressed against your thigh. Pulling away from him, despite the darkness of the room, you were still able to see a familiar dark look in his eyes as you looked into them.

“Go down the hall and to the left.” His voice was low, trying not to alert your friends that still surrounded you, watching the movie. Nodding, you peeled yourself from Yoongi’s body. Muttering a quick excuse about using the bathroom, you maneuvered your way around the people as you exited the living room. Following Yoongi’s instructions, you were met with a door. Just as you were opening it, you felt warmth behind you. A set of arms snaked around your waist. “You got needy, baby?”

Turning around in his hold, you faced him. Only answering him by pressing a kiss to his lips. He seemed to be satisfied with your answer, feeling him smile. One of his hands left your side, opening the door. The two of you stumbled into the room, never breaking the kiss. Kicking the door close behind him, he walked you backwards across the room until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

You both tumbled down onto the bed, finally breaking the kiss to laugh. Gently, Yoongi scooted you up until your head rested on the pillows, the heavy scent of weed and incense filled your senses. Now hovering over you, Yoongi met your eyes, feeling all his overwhelming love and adoration. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, to which he kissed the side of your palm in return. A small gesture you’ve become acquainted with him, his own little way of telling you that he loved you.

Lowing his head, he captured your lips in another kiss. Your hand slipping from his cheek to the back of his head, you quickly threaded your fingers into his dark hair. Yoongi’s kisses always left you dizzy and you couldn’t get enough of it. Your world consisted of Yoongi and the feeling of his lips on you. Heat started pooling in your stomach, your body wanted more.

“Yoongi,” you whined, “more!”

“Hmm? What do you want more of?” He asked, his lips traveling down your neck, finding your sweet spot with no problem.

“You. Mouth. More.” You pouted. The weed in your system made your brain feel all fuzzy, the only thing you knew was clear was your want for Yoongi.

“You want me to go down on you, baby?” His breath was hot against your ear. The mere suggestion had you clenching around nothing. You nodded profusefly, but Yoongi tutted at you. “Remember, use your words.”

“Yes please. I want it.” The words flooded past your lips without any hesitation.

The next thing you know, Yoongi was pressing fleeting kisses over your clothed torso. On your collar bones, the swell of your breast, over your nipple, down your stomach. Once he reached your lower half, he slowly tugged down your leggings and your underwear. Tossing them away, Yoongi lowered his head to your fully exposed pussy, licking a fat stripe across your folds, his tongue flicking over your clit.

“Fuck!” You hissed, hands instantly flying to Yoongi’s hair. He chuckled against your folds before diving into you again. Your fingers knotted into his dark lots as he practically made out with your pussy. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as he alternated from fucking you with his tongue to sucking on your clit. The sensation had your head spinning, driving you insane. It was too much. “You’re eating me!” The words fell past your lips without any thought, as you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from you.

His lips were coated with your juices as he smirked at you. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point, babe.” His comment had the tips of your ears growing hot, he merely chuckled at your light embarrassment. “May I continue?”

“Y-yeah.”

With a wink, he began again, going a bit slower with his ministrations. You let out small moans and whines as he continued, occasionally bucking your hips up into his mouth. A coil in your gut began to tighten, you knew it was gonna snap soon.

“Fuck, I’m-I’m gonna cum.” Your hips bucked up, but a large hand splayed over your stomach, ceasing any further movement from you. “Yoongi, please! Fuck!” Waves of pleasure washed over your body as the coil snapped, throwing you over the edge. Yoongi kept going, not stopping until your legs were twitching, unable to take anymore.

Pulling away from you, he rested his head against your thigh, licking his lips clean of you. “Feel better?”

With heavy eyelids, you hummed in response, too tired to speak. Which only prompted him to bite into the flesh of your inner thigh. “Hey!” You frowned as Yoongi crawled back up over you.

“I give you an orgasm, and you only give me a ‘hmm’ in response? I’m hurt, angel.” He teased as he nuzzled into your cheek with his nose.

“Yes, I feel better.” You muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. “Tired.”

“You wanna sleep, baby?” He asked, although he really didn’t need to, seeing as you were already halfway in dreamland.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You could feel the vibrations of his light chuckles. The two of you laid there for a while, before he tugged your arms away, freeing himself of your grasp. “Come back.” You pouted, missing his warmth already.

“Just taking off my pants. Get under the covers.” With a yawn, you pawed for the edge of the blanket before pulling it down and climbing in. Only a few moments later did you feel the mattress shift. Flipping on your side, you leaned into Yoongi, cuddling up to his warmth. “Night, angel.”

“G’night, Yoongi. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The following morning, your eyelids felt so heavy; you could barely open them, despite the sunlight bleeding through the open window. Groaning, you turned on your side. Well turned over as much as you could with Yoongi’s arms wrapped around you, keeping you close to him as possible.

Just as you were about to fall back into sleep, the sound of the door swung open, and Seokjin’s voice called out. “Listen, I don’t mind y’all falling asleep in my room, but next time you fuck in my bed, I’ll kick you out.” With that, the door shut.

You were quiet for a few moments. “Did you really go down on me in Jin’s bed.” You mumbled, not bothering to open your eyes.

You could hear the proud smirk on his face. “Yeah, I did.”

#btsghostie #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #bts x reader #bts stoner au #stoner yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff

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deathlikelead · 3 years ago

Text

Contact Buzz

Summary: Fiona and Iggy get buzzed at the neighborhood bonfire.

Ship: Fiona Gallagher/Iggy Milkovich

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol, depictions of foreplay, not sfw

Word Count: 2.7k

Read on AO3

The noise should be the first thing that draws Iggy’s attention since it sounds like an end-of-the-world party is taking place a few blocks away from where he’s walking home after his beer run.

It’s not the noise though, it’s the smell. Whoever it is has to have the strongest weed imaginable, and Iggy wants in on that. He only notices the noise once he gets closer, dozens of people whooping and hollering, the dark sky illuminated by the giant plume of flames in the center of them all.

Mickey's boyfriend - the first redheaded Gallagher kid, Iggy can’t remember his name. Evan, Aaron, something monosyllabic like that - is carrying one of his little brothers on his back near the flames. One of their neighbors is waving his shirt into the smoke above the flames then pulling it back to inhale. It looks like the whole of Wallace Street is here, dancing around and shouting along to the song that’s playing loudly over someone’s speakers.

It’s chaotic, and where there’s chaos, there should be Milkoviches. Though he has to admit he doesn’t look very hard, in the quick glance he does give, Iggy notices a distinct lack of anyone from his family.

When he gets close enough, he wades into the crowd. He sets his pack of beer down on the first tailgate he comes to, and a joint appears in his hand as if by magic. He doesn’t know who it was that gave it to him, and they’ve already disappeared by the time he looks up to watch the fire after taking his first hit.

If he could smell it from three blocks away, Iggy’s surprised the cops aren’t here already. Then again, he heard that Fiona Gallagher maybe had a thing with one, so maybe she pulled some strings or some dick that allowed the whole neighborhood to come out and get a contact buzz together.

Iggy’s lived in the Southside his whole life, but he can’t spot a whole lot of people he thinks he knows. Even less he would consider friends.

He takes his magic joint with him and goes to hop up to sit next to his beer in the bed of whoever’s pick-up. He rips the box open and tugs a can out to pop the top on, drinks about half of it before the other side of the truck is dipping down under the weight of someone hopping up to join him on the other side. Iggy looks up, curious, around his beer, lowering it and belching as he makes eye contact with Fiona Gallagher.

The action makes her laugh for some reason, and then before Iggy can process, she’s leaning over and snagging the half-empty can out of his hand to down the rest of it. Iggy isn’t sure what to do with that, but he smirks at her as he goes for another one, asks, “Why you guys burning a giant pile of weed?”

Fiona helps herself to one of his beers, taking several swallows before shrugging. “Had too much. Needed to get rid of it.”

That answer makes Iggy roll his eyes, the gesture almost exaggerated in its obviousness. “Well shit, could have just brought it over to our house. Could have gotten rid of it for you no problem. And would have wasted a lot less.”

Fiona makes a face that Iggy thinks is half disbelief, half amusement. “Meaning what? That you and your brothers would have smoked it all?” And well… yeah, okay, that’s exactly what Iggy meant. But he can’t let her have the last word.

“No, my sister too, don’t be sexist. You should know her. Mandy, about 5’8”, totally banging your brother. Ringing a bell?” Iggy may know a little more than he’d like about Ian and Mickey’s indiscretions, but he isn’t about to make it public knowledge. Too many ears around that might remember overhearing it in the morning. Besides, he didn’t know if Fiona knew. Not his business.

For a second, Fiona looks like she’s about to say something, but after a moment of introspection, she instead finishes her beer and makes a grab for the joint Iggy’s still holding between his fingers. He’s already got a nice buzz going, and his reaction time’s a little slow, so she’s already got in her grip by the time he tries to grab it back. The world tilts off its axis a little bit when he tries to lean over for it, so he gives up and just lets her have it. “Grabby bitch, aren’t you?” he asks, though there’s not any heat behind the words. He sounds as happy and fuzzy as he feels.

Fiona coughs out a smokey laugh around the joint between her lips. “Not sure a Milkovich has any room to talk about ‘grabby’.”

Iggy hums at the dig, but well it’s true. Iggy wonders if he’s really obvious, or if Fiona has mind-reading superpowers. Both seem equally likely.

“Whatever. You may got a yuppie boyfriend buying you whatever you want now, but seems like you’ve got a little southside klepto left in you.”

Fiona takes another hit, nodding to him along with the beat of the music as she blows the smoke away from him - like it would make any difference if she blew smoke in his face at this point. The action makes him laugh. - “Don’t got a boyfriend. Not that it’s your business, fuck you very much.”

Iggy raises an eyebrow at that but leaves it to her to elaborate as he holds out his fingers, making a lazy gesture for the joint. He doesn’t care that much, but he’s pretty sure that girls love to talk, and he doesn’t have anywhere better to be than here - beer, free weed, hot girl as company, and all. Fiona doesn’t elaborate though, just watches him finish off the joint as she’s working on another beer he didn’t notice her stealing.

Once the joint burns down enough that it’s burning his fingers, Iggy squashes it out on the tailgate next to his thigh. There’s a hand around his wrist. Iggy blinks, trying to push through the weed haze settling over his brain, and he realizes that the hand belongs to Fiona, who has hopped down off their shared seat. “Come on, come dance with me.”

Fiona tugs Iggy up close to the blaze that’s going strong, stinking up the empty lot and all the surrounding neighborhoods. There's a lot of bodies thrumming to the beat of the radio around them, but it’s unreasonably hard to focus on more than one thing at once.

Whoever grew this weed knew what the fuck they were doing.

And right in front of everyone, Fiona presses her back against Iggy’s chest and starts rolling her hips against his. Iggy chooses that sensation as his one thing to focus on, resting one hand against her left hip and trying to roll along with her. It takes a moment, but he thinks he gets the hang of it. At least Fiona is laughing, twisting around to wrap an arm around his neck and continuing to grind against him, belly to belly.

Iggy thinks they must spend the entire night dancing pressed against each other like that, but when Fiona pulls away, pulls on his wrist, and tugs him through the fog, he’s surprised to find it’s still dark around them. They’re further away from the fire now, the noise and the heat fading into the distance, the memory of them already faded under the buzzing in his brain.

Fuck, whoever grew this - Kevin, someone said Kevin - really did know what he was doing.

Fiona drags Iggy back to the truck, grabs another beer for each of them, and then again grabs his wrist and tugs him further away from the party, and starts down the block.

Iggy is pretty sure that the house she pulls him into isn’t hers, but he’s never been to hers either, so he can’t exactly swear to it. Fiona kicks her shoes off and flops down on the couch comfortably, grinning up at the ceiling.

He must look confused because, after a moment, she tugs herself into a sitting position and turns to face him. “Are you just gonna stand there all night?”

Iggy blinks. Takes a moment to collect his balance, then makes his way around the couch to sit down next to her. “This your house?” he asks because he’s thinking about it.

“Kev and V’s. too many people at mine.”

Too many people for what, Iggy isn’t sure. He fidgets with the tab on his can of beer and relaxes back into the couch. The two of them sit in fuzzy silence for long enough that it startles Iggy when Fiona is back in his field of vision, up off the couch to turn up a stereo across the room. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “You were more fun when we were dancing,” She declares as she crosses the room and snags his beer, only to set it on the end table and pull him to his feet again.

There's no hesitation from Fiona, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing up against him again, swaying to the end of the slow song playing on the radio. There are fewer things to be distracted by in the pitch black of a stranger’s house than there is at a weed bonfire block party, so while dancing with Fiona is still what he focuses on, Iggy can pause for a moment and think Holy shit.

Fiona Gallagher is dancing with him.

A few hours ago, a few minutes ago, he's not sure, but not long ago, she’d been grinding on him.

The memory of it is hot, and Iggy finds that he’s sliding his hands up under her shirt now. Fiona leans into it, a carefree smile on her face. When the song ends, she pulls away from him and tugs the shirt off. Iggy’s brain short circuits and Fiona has the nerve to press back against him, asking, “This cool with you?” with a smirk on her face.

He manages to stop staring at her chest and pick his eyes up to meet hers long enough to confirm, “Yeah.” It makes her laugh for some reason, and that sound excites him, as does the tone of her following demand of, “Okay, then take yours off, too.”

Having happily gone back to his staring, he doesn’t quite pick up on the actual words, so Fiona decides to help him out, hands coming to either of his hips and tugging upwards on his shirt until all Iggy has to do is lift his arms. He doesn’t see where it is that Fiona throws his shirt too, but he’s not sure that he cares anyway.

He had been expecting her to press into him and start dancing to the beat again, but instead, she’s standing in front of him, undoing her shorts. She struggles a little, buzzed and uncoordinated, but looks up at him once she’s freed of the button, the zipper falling open so that he can see her panties. “You really are just gonna stand there and stare all night, aren’t you?” she asks, laughing when it takes him an inappropriate amount of time to drag his gaze back up to hers.

“No.” He decides, though he still makes no move to do anything but stare.

It's becoming increasingly obvious to Fiona that she’s going to have to guide him through every step she wants to take here, and though the thought makes her roll her eyes, she’s not entirely opposed to it. “Right,” she answers, playful sarcasm dripping from her tone as she steps over to him, repeating the unbuttoning and unzipping with his jeans. Again, she grabs his wrist, this time guiding his hand to her waist and finally resuming their grinding to the middle of a new song playing on the radio.

She thinks he’s starting to get the hint by the time the song ends, so she steps back and shimmies out of her shorts. She stays quiet, looks contemplative at something behind Iggy for a moment.

Kev and V have a ridiculous spiral staircase, and Fiona is not a hundred percent sure that Iggy wouldn’t lose his balance and break his neck on it if she tried to lure him up it. Hell, She’s not a hundred percent sure that she wouldn’t break her neck if she tried to go up it. But after a moment of consideration, she looks back at Iggy and decides she likes the idea of being chased. Kev and Veronica do have a really comfortable bed…

She taps Iggy's chest to get his attention, a suggestive look spreading across her face when his eyes meet hers. “I’m gonna go upstairs. Last door on the right at the end of the hall.” Fiona doesn’t wait for a response, but she does reach up behind herself to unclasp her bra and shrug out of it so she can drop it on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. It takes more willpower than she would be happy to admit to force herself not to look back to see if Iggy has caught on that he’s supposed to follow her. When she’s halfway up, she hears the staircase creek behind her and grins.

----

Iggy still feels remarkably fuzzy when he wakes up. Not high, but not exactly not high. It’s mixing wonderfully with the hangover from his beers - Where exactly had he left those? - and making his mouth taste like his head feels, like cotton and fuzz and pressure.

There’s sunlight streaming into the room he’s in, and it smells like flowers, leaving him a little unsure of where he is. He pries his eyes open and looks around, but from where he lays on the bed, he still can’t distinguish where he is. All he can see is an unfamiliar wall, with an unfamiliar window and an unfamiliar dresser pushed against it.

Downstairs, there’s yelling, but there’s also the scent of food, the promise of which is enough to get Iggy to drag his ass out of the comfortable bed. He looks around helplessly for a minute, but unable to locate his boxers, he decides to dig in the dresser for a pair instead.

“In my bed? In my fucking bed, Fiona? Actually,” the yelling gets louder as Iggy approaches the stairs and starts to make his very slow way down them. “Actually, in my house at all? You couldn’t have picked anywhere else in Chicago to take your dirty white boy to hook up?”

Fiona is sitting at the counter with her head in her hands and her back to him, while a very animated woman moves around the kitchen. The woman - Victoria? Has to be something with a V, since everyone calls her that. - hip bumps the great weed curator out of the way of the stove so she can plate a couple of eggs and some toast to bring over to Fiona. “We’re gonna have to burn the sheets now, you know that, right? And for fuck’s sake, Iggy Milkovich-”

Whatever secondary rant she’d been preparing to launch into is cut off momentarily by the question her husband asks after turning around and catching sight of Iggy. “Are those my boxers?”

Iggy looks down at them, shrugs, then looks back up with a dopey grin. “Yeah. Sorry, man. Eggs?” He comes to join Fiona on her side of the little breakfast nook, grinning and digging in when a confused, hesitant-looking Kev sets a plate of eggs down in front of him.

Beside him, Fiona and V have started up again, so he looks up to Kev and asks through his mouthful of eggs, “Are they always this loud when they gossip?”

Neither one of the offending gossips quiet. Either they didn’t hear him, or they just didn’t care.

Kev looks exasperated. “You have no idea, man.” He sets his spatula down next to the stove and reaches behind his ear as he comes to lean across from Iggy. “Joint?”

#happy completion to the first shameless fic i ever started #first one that made me wanna write again #party hard #fiona gallagher #iggy milkovich #shameless #shameless us #shameless fics #fics #benja writes #not sfw

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grimark · 3 years ago

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Fic First Line Games

Rules: DON’T REBLOG THIS ONE, MAKE A NEW POST! List the first lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

Tagged by @sl-walker and I think I'll put most of it under a cut because wow that's a big wall of text.

1. That caulker’s mate is a striking man, but he has a way of almost fading into the background. (this, and other such inconsequential questions)

2. Billy is on his way to work when the demon shows up again. (before a mirror late at night)

3. They were born premature, of course. Emily came first, and Gabriel was dragged kicking and screaming along behind her. Even their own mother didn’t want to keep them for any longer than she absolutely had to. (Comorbid)

4. Cornelius wasn’t stupid, he knew Freddie Des Voeux only invited him and his friends over when he felt like slumming it. But Freddie had subscriptions to at least three different streaming services, and Sol said his weed was decent, and he generally ordered a better class of takeaway than the rest of them would be able to afford on their own. So Cornelius was happy to let him have his little Common People moment in return. (down, down in an earlier round)

5. As a steward on the research vessel Terror, Billy was not technically qualified to leave the ship. Which was bullshit, because he’d been rated AB at the end of his last interplanetary expedition, or pretty close to it anyway. (fruiting bodies)

6. Sol had been looking forward to seeing Cornelius soon. But he and Billy had gone away for the weekend, and for all of Saturday it seemed Cornelius had been too busy to reply to any of Sol’s texts. (nothing compares to a quiet evening alone)

7. It had been a big achievement for Cornelius, scoring a job on the stem cell research team at Terrebus Laboratories. Certainly a step up from his previous job as a technician at a pathology lab. Longer hours, greater responsibility, more demanding work, and not all that much more pay. But the project made all the difference. (sustenance, blessed sustenance)

8. Being a werewolf was this: a warm summer evening, driving to anywhere, laughing at Sol sticking his head out the passenger side window, whooping and cheering into the wind. (know how a man becomes a beast)

9. The first time they met, Billie and C kind of got off on the wrong foot. (In my head I paint a picture)

10. Once he had recovered from the attack, John’s friends and family were all surprised when he kept taking his daily run at Hampstead Heath. (a man who’s pure of heart and says his prayers by night)

I don't know if there's any really obvious patterns? I tend to prioritise giving context over generating drama or interest, and I pretty much always focus on describing something a person is thinking or doing, rather than broader environments or events. So maybe that means I need to work on my descriptive writing a bit more, but I already knew that.

Anyway, tagging some people who I know write fic if you wanna do this, for however many fics you feel like doing @edwardashley @fireferns @bloodyholly @ahamkarabone @o-rchidae @stepmommycrowley

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sadclowngorl · 4 years ago

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The lost boys across generations.

This is all just my headcanon, that could honestly change at any minute. 👀. My headcanons are based off the prequel script! Pls read it.

This also includes my headcanon of Werewolves in the lost boys universe!

I'm a big history lover but don't be surprised if I got some stuff wrong, I'm not from California or any of these decades, but did a lot of research on it. So that was fun!

Comment your own headcanons i need more!!!!!

1910's

Having still getting used to the whole vampire gig, they have troubles adjusting to their new powers. Marko breaks a lot of things accidently, Paul accidently floats off when he jumps and doesn't know how to get down.

Dwayne was disappointed in the no sun ever thing, he really did enjoy visiting the beach and the warmth of the sun. So :(.

David was more morally affected of the murder part, he has facing against eating the innocent and eating the guilty. Though he realized how hard it is to tell the difference between good and evil. And after talking to Max about it he figured just not eating family's or children would soothe his morals.

The boys really didn't want to depend on Max for money at first, and seeing as California really depended on Fishing, they'd help sailors and fishermen through the night. Gathering coin from their work and possibly from the others pockets.

Though eventually the workers were sick of their antics and kicked the boys from the fishing docks. By that time they realized how much money Max has and said well why not.

Baseball was introduced to America during this decade and while I hate saying this, they enjoy it. Playing some ball to pass some time and to feel at least a little human.

I hate saying it bc of twilight. Fuck u twilight.

The influenza made the boys learn that they are unaffected by disease and from that they realized how short of a life span man has. So the next decade they lived through it fully.

1920's

Hollywood shined through California, bringing in plenty of blood and fun.

Marko had small gigs as a singer in some speakeasys, he enjoyed the attention and showing off.

Paul learned how to play guitar during this decade and loves it to this day.

Dwayne at one point was scouted by an acting agent but Dwayne quickly declined and oh no..ate the guy. Whoops.

The boys did push back the threat of other gangs marching through Santa Carla, by obviously. Eating them.

Through many decades, Max was very introverted. And stuck to his home in the busy nightlife of Santa Carla.

From gangs and people coming into California. Came werewolves.

1930's

They gained the name 'The Lost Boys' in this decade from the locals.

The stock market crashed, causing many to go into poverty. The boys understood facing the problem of poverty and in this decade decided to leave the needy be.

Instead they tried to feed from the humans who have no worries, and stole from them. Giving the goods to the locals who needed it more.

Much of this decade they decided to stay in the shadows, trying to be even unseen as night.

Along with the fact that Dracula (1931) just came out, they really don't need that kind of publicity. Plus Max prevented them from doing any rash decisions.

Though murder was still very high in Santa Carla because the werewolves were running rapid. While they mainly stuck to the woods, some did travel to the docks, poverty stricken neighborhoods, just to feast.

1940s

Then came the war, the internment camps, the fear.

The boys thrived from this fear.

They easily avoided getting drafted, by claiming to be gay. Which they weren't lying 👀.

By the 40s, they've had vampire foursomes. No doubt in my mind.

When the war ended in 1945, hitchhiking became very popular.

This was the year they got their own bikes, by got i mean stolen.

With their bikes they picked up lonesome hitchhikers, and played as hitchhikers in the night.

Though by the 40s the tension between the vampires and werewolves were high. The groups would constantly test each other which would end in bloody fights. The boys were outnumbered by the werewolves as they breed fast but, they had the skill over the wolves to keep them at bay.

1950s

The tension between werewolves and Vampires are on thin ice. The boys take full advantage of the greaser aesthetic and with it attract more victims.

Though they do attract the rivalry of the werewolves.

After decades of tension, the two's leaders have decided to come to a draw.

Meeting at the lighthouse, Max and the wolves leader decides the territory issues

The vampires take the boardwalk and the beach. The werewolves take the forest, and the mountains.

The only neutral part is the walton lighthouse and ofc like peoples houses.

After that issue is solved the boys decide to leave the wolves alone and focus back on their own feasts.

1960s

While the tension between wolf and vampires has eased, a new tension rises.

Communism, homophobia, raegan, the assassination of Kennedy.

While the political subjects the boys normally stay away from, when polictics decides to stick its nose in the boys way of life. Its a bit teeth grating.

The boys learned to live with hatred but didn't hesitate to eat their enemies, they need to keep the kill count in Santa Carla high after all.

Though they do become the victims of some hate crimes specifically gay hate crimes, along with threats of being arrested for association with communism. Ya know the red scare shit.

Moon landing happen. Or did it?

The boys are contemplating if the moon landing really did happen.

Marko and Paul do try to fly to the moon, get bored not even half way and go back home. Also the sun is always out in space, so not a good idea.

1970s

The boys are introduced to. Weed.

Ofc they love it, along with mari jane comes rock and a different type of crowd to feast on.

Paul seems to fit right in with the crowd of hippies, Dwayne enjoys their very calming nature but David and Marko are indifferent to the crowd.

Marko would rather run in the city than sit and smoke in the woods. While David enjoys smoking, he doesn't enjoy doing it with humans.

Marko takes a lot of advantage of the busting clubs with disco and fresh blood, David does the same but let's the victims come to him.

The group seem to bypass the movement of the Vietnam War, its just another war. War to them, its useless. Just killing each other? No no, thats theirs job to kill humans.

Max during this decade seemed to be looking for another member to join. Though he stays quiet of it and doesn't mention it to the boys.

1980s

Their peak

But also their downfall canonically

They love the art, the music, the people.

Everything about the 80s, they soaked right in.

Well..you guys know how they took to the 80s lol.

#the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul

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kiara-carrera · 3 years ago

Note

“I'm a mess” + Leah and JJ!

95: i'm a mess + mayson

thank you for continuously aiding my obsession with them. i'm actually really happy with how this came out omfg. very much not canon compliant to the actual fic and clueless (slightly jealous) babies. also weed, if you're not down with that (the smoking stuff is also probably v poorly written because i've never smoked in my life lmao).

"Is that my shirt?"

Leah nearly fell out of the hammock. She practically jumped out of her skin, one hand grabbing onto the side and the other clutching the joint she'd rolled a few minutes earlier. Her head whipped around to see JJ walking up to the trees outside the Chateau, an amused grin on his face.

"Jesus fuck, J. Don't sneak up on people like that," Leah whined, flipping him off as he came to a stop in front of her. He grabbed the side of the hammock, stopping it from swinging aggressively as she regained her balance.

"My shirt," he repeated, tugging at the sleeve of it.

She glanced down at the Pelican Marina shirt as if she just remembered she was wearing it. She'd randomly grabbed it from his room when she got back to the Chateau with John B, having ditched the party — and technically JJ? — at the boneyard. "Oh yeah, I got beer all over mine."

He raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Long story," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. Specifically, the one with her lit joint, which didn't go unnoticed by JJ.

"And you took my weed, too?" he exclaimed, eyeing the joint in her hand. Even buzzed, JJ had about thirteen issues with the way it was assembled, but rolling was never Leah's strong suit.

"No." She gave him a mischievous grin, shooting a conspiratorial wink. "It's John B's."

JJ chuckled at her expression, gasping with pride as he slapped a hand over his chest. “My little klepto! I've trained you well."

She shrugged. "I spotted him money for the last keg, he owes me. Wanna smoke it with me?"

JJ eyed her poor craftsmanship, but ultimately accepted with a shrug. Leah tried her best to keep still as JJ climbed into the hammock, sitting back against the other end to be across from her. The swayed a bit before he finally settled in, slotting one of his legs between hers.

She held out the joint to him, waving it tauntingly in front of him. JJ chuckled, plucking it from her fingers.

He took a quick hit, cringing when he let the smoke free. "This is shit weed."

"That's because John B bought it."

" ... Fair enough."

They sat in comfortable silent for a few minutes, passing the joint back and forth as the very beginnings of a nice mellow feeling started to creep into Leah's veins. She tried her best to blow a smoke ring, but it came out more like a disjointed blob.

JJ snorted. “Weak."

"Dick," she grumbled, kicking her foot into his calf.

He rolled her eyes at the childish action, before posing a question. "Wanna tell me why I had to walk my ass back here tonight?"

Right. They'd ditched him. Whoops?

Okay, look, they had a reason. One of them being an absolutely trashed John B. He rarely got piss drunk but on the occasions that he did, there was a high chance he'd either do something really stupid or fall dead asleep and Leah had preferred to have him fall asleep at home then on the beach for her and the other's to drag him to the van.

Plus, JJ's attention had been firmly elsewhere at the time.

"Yeah, John B got a little too drunk and I was covered in beer and Kie and Pope have to work tomorrow so we decided to call it," she answered, feeling slightly guilty that they'd bailed on him. She gave him a regretful smile. "We were gonna get you, but you seemed ... preoccupied."

From the start of the party, some girl had practically latched herself onto JJ, and as usual, he lapped up all the attention. Leah didn't blame the girl. JJ was probably the hottest guy on the island, but Leah didn't really want to see him making out with some girl right in front of her.

But, uh, not that she cared. Obviously.

She changed the subject, trying not to sound like some bitter little baby. "So we just, uh, left. Pope said he texted you to let you know."

Pope definitely did not text JJ, but the blond wasn't going to fault him for it. No harm, no foul, especially since he most likely drove home with Kie tonight. God knows Pope was ass over elbows for their friend.

JJ nodded slowly a few times, like he was bobbing his head to an invisible beat. He could already tell he wasn't going to get a good high from John B's shit stash, but at least the keg at the boneyard had gotten him buzzed enough.

The keg, which reminded him of something. "Speaking of beer — "

"We weren't speaking of beer."

"Speaking, thinking, same difference," JJ dismissed, giving a nudge to her leg. "Why were you covered in beer again?"

Leah groaned, letting her head toss back in annoyance. "Fucking Kooks, that's why."

JJ frowned. "I mean, sure, but how ... ?"

Leah sighed, taking one last hit before leaning forward to hand him the joint. When she let the smoke go, she said, "Well, there was this guy I was with for most of the night. I don't know if you saw me after we ditched keg duty."

Oh, JJ had noticed. He definitely fucking noticed.

"He looked like a preppy asshole," he commented, trying to seem nonchalant. It was a wonder Leah bought it, because really he just sounded like a petty little bitch. He brought the joint to his lips, asking, "What happened to your no Kook rule?"

"He was a Touron," Leah replied. "A rich-y rich one, but a Touron all the same."

"But I thought you said — "

"Kook comes in later," she told him. She adjusted her position in the hammock, playing with the hem of JJ's shirt. "Although the Touron was actually a preppy asshole, so you're not really wrong. I mean, he seemed nice at first? But he was also ridiculously boring and full of himself. Ended up being a total dick."

"So basically he was a Kook without the Figure Eight address?"

"Pretty much. So anyways, we're talking and he's mostly going on about himself, which, like, fine, whatever, I was just waiting for him to wanna make out with me anyways — " She didn't notice the way JJ's eyes narrowed just a bit. " — And some fucking Kook drunk off his ass knocks into us and his beer spills all over me."

JJ let out a low whistle. "That blows."

"Oh, definitely. So my shirt's fucking drenched, like, I'm a mess, right? And you'd think any halfway decent person would like, I don't know, be good about the situation? Nope, the fucker decided it would be a great time to make a wet t-shirt contest joke about my boobs. Or, according to him, lack thereof."

Leah rolled her eyes as she laughed at the stupidity of it all, leaning over to snatch the joint back, taking another hit off it. She'd been pissed at first, but the look on his face when she dumped her drink on him was enough to ease her mind.

JJ on the other hand didn't seem as amused. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Like I said, total dick."

"You should've come and got me, would've had him on his ass."

The angry look in JJ's eyes was enough to make a soft smile break across Leah's face. That alone seemed to dim some of the irritation in his expression.

"Easy there, killer," she told him, leaning up to pat him on his leg. "I already threw the rest of my drink at him."

JJ conceded with a grumble, a part of him slightly amused at the thought, but he still muttered, "Still could use his ass kicked though."

"He could've, but I also don't need you fighting every guy who so much as looks at me the wrong way," she snorted. "Besides, I think you're forgetting I have a very nice right hook of my own."

The mental image of Leah socking Rafe Cameron in the face was enough to make them both burst out laughing.

It was a few minutes before all the laughter was out of their systems and they were back to a mellow quiet, the sounds of crickets chirping filling the air.

"So why were you even hanging out with him if he was such a boring dick?"

Because you had your tongue down that girl's throat.

She didn't really know how to answer his question without verging on embarrassing, friendship destroying, Pogue rule number one breaking honesty.

"Boredom? I don't know. Just looking for someone to hook up with, I guess," she replied, not really noticing how he bristled at her answer. Instead, she took an opportunity to try her hand at another smoke right, squealing in delight when a wonky, yet undeniably round ring blew from her lips. "Look!"

JJ grinned at the childlike wonder in her eyes, swaying slightly as she made the hammock swing a little with her excited bounces. He shook his head at her, watching her slip back to rest more comfortably in the hammock, her legs nudging his every so often. His gaze was absentmindedly fixed on the sight of his shirt on her when she cut into his thoughts.

"So, uh, how come you're not with ... " Leah trailed off. She didn't know the girl's name nor did she really want to. She was also worried if she kept going, a twinge of jealousy would leak into her words.

She was totally not jealous, though, by the way. Just to make that clear.

"Just wasn't really vibing," JJ said casually.

In all honesty, he'd only really stopped vibing when he saw that stupid fucking tourist all over Leah. The guy had looked like a dick and her story pretty much proved it, but the sight of them had tanked his mood incredibly. So when his own Touron had invited him back to the place she was staying, JJ bailed.

There were only so many times you could hook up with other people while thinking of the same goddamn person, especially when you shouldn't — no, couldn't be thinking about that person.

Because they were your best friend and you were a fucking idiot.

"Oh."

He leaned over, plucking the joint from her fingers. He took a hit, letting the smoke seep out of his mouth after a moment. He tried to play the situation off, grinning at her. "Eh, not a big deal. Besides, why would I want to be there when I can chill with my best friend?"

The words best friend hung in the air between them.

Neither one of them liked the way it sounded.

Neither one of them had the guts to do anything about it.

#asks #angst/fluff prompts #mayson #claryxjackson

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pleasejustfuckinghugme · 4 years ago

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Forever

episode one pt. two (word count: 2,333)

jacobs!oc x fezco

warnings: mentions of abuse and attempted rape, crude language, drugs, alcohol, sexual themes

Nancy and I had been best friends since freshman year after her brother tried to finger me at the freshman formal. After she saw me running to the ladies room and heard her brother dick around with his friends, she knew something was wrong. She ran to the bathroom and refused to leave me alone for the rest of the night, eyeing her twin at all times. Later that night, she confronted him about it when they got back home, and he slapped her across the face. They didn’t acknowledge each other for an entire month after that. Nate eventually apologized. It was a shitty apology, but Nancy was nice. And way too forgiving.

Then Nancy met Maddy after she and Nate started dating, and they became best friends. They pretty much told each other everything, so when Maddy found out about Nate hitting Nancy, she was furious. Nancy refused to let her do anything; she knew that if Maddy confronted him he would do the same thing to her. They promised they would always be there for each other instead, and so far, they had managed to keep that promise.

“Bitch, you’re coming,” Maddy scolded her from across the room. Nancy was sitting on her bed, watching as Maddy applied glitter to her eyelids.

The girl flinched as Maddy stood up, throwing her eyeliner at her.

“Nate won’t be happy.”

“He’s not your fucking dad, so it doesn’t matter,” Maddy argued. “And this way you’ll meet the rest of the cheer team before school starts.”

“Fine,” Nancy sighed as she began to apply her eyeliner.

“Honestly, I think Nancy’s gonna catch the most dick tonight. She look hot as fuck,” BB snorted, taking a breath of her vape.

“Yeah right,” Nancy scoffed. “If I did, it would only because Maddy’s letting me borrow her dress.” She winked at her friend through the mirror, but Maddy didn’t see as she was too preoccupied looking at her boobs.

“Do you think my areolas look weird?” she asked, turning to look at Kat and Nancy.

“No,” Kat returned, scrolling on her phone. Nancy said nothing as she chewed her bottom lip, concentrating on winging her liner.

“But, like, the edges though,” Maddy pressed.

Kat finally looked up at the girl, “Maddy, they’re fine.”

Maddy narrowed her eyes at the girl, “Fine like they’re kind of weird, or fine like nobody would ever notice what I notice?”

“Fine like shut the fuck up, Maddy,” BB called from the bathroom.

“Your boobs are wonderful,” Nancy reassured. She stood up from the bed and started slipping on her black a-line dress.

“I’m disgusting. I literally look disgusting,” Maddy rambled, looking at herself in the mirror.”

“Maddy, you need to snap the fuck out of this. You’re hot as fuck. Nate’s a loser! Who cares?” Kat whined.

Nancy plopped down next to her on the bed, grunting in agreement. “Exactly, that’s why we should just skip the whole thing.”

Maddy rolled her eyes and faced them, “No, Nancy. Besides he’s not a loser, he’s a dick.”

Nancy scoffed as Kat mumbled, “All dicks are losers, duh.”

“Look, bottom line. Y’all need to walk into this party like your pussy costs a million dollars,” BB slurred walking to Maddy’s closet.

Nancy shifted awkwardly on the bed as Maddy replied, “I’d probably settle for, like, fifty grand.”

“Fifty grand is a million dollars.”

“I’d settle for, like, four Corona Lites and some non-rapey affection,” Kat muttered. Nancy pushed her shoulder playfully as BB cringed, “That’s kind of depressing.”

“Nate just, like, totally ruins my confidence,” Maddy huffed. “You know when somebody just constantly criticizes, like, everything about you?”

This prompted Nancy to go over to the girl, giving her a small, comforting hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Yep, that’s like every guy,” BB assured.

“You just need to catch a dick and forget about your troubles,” Kat affirmed, causing Maddy to whip around as Nancy giggled.

“Girl, you just need to catch a dick,” she accused. She lightly smacked Nancy on her cheeks. “And you’re no better either, bitch.”

Nancy rolled her eyes and flicked Maddy’s forehead. “Shut up,” she scoffed, laughing.

“Seriously, Maddy. The best thing to do after a break up is to fuck someone new and then move on.”

“Please, Kat, remind me again how many guys you fucked, and um, oh yeah, catfishing, that don’t count,” BB accused, waving the girl off. Hurt flashed in Kat’s eyes as she returned to applying her mascara.

“BB,” Nancy warned.

Maddy faced BB, scowling. “Can you not be a cunt for like fifteen seconds?” she shot, defending the girl.

A knock interrupted their conversation. The door to Maddy’s room opened and her dad began to speak.

“Dad! Stop being a pervert! We’re literally, like, all naked!” Maddy squealed. The door promptly shut again, and the four girls looked at each other before breaking out into laughter.

The small town seemed to come alive at night. Red, green, and pasty yellow lights reflected through Maddy’s car as the four girls rode to McKay’s. Nancy laid her head on the window, watching neon lights streak past as the car glided down the road. Further ahead of the car, the reflection of a golden jacket caught her eyes. Squinting, she looked at the figure walking down the road. It was a girl with long, frizzy brown hair, her caramel skin glowed under the street lights. Suddenly, realization struck her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, jerking her head up.

“Is that?” Maddy trailed off, slowing her car down to a stop.

“Oh shit! That’s Rue!” BB gasped, taking a hit of her vape.

“Didn’t Rue, like, die?” Maddy quizzed, causing Nancy to lightly punch her shoulders, scolding her, “Don’t say that shit, Maddy.”

BB leaned back in her seat, “Oh my god, I hate ghosts.”

When the car was close enough to the girl, Nancy and Kat both stuck their heads out the window.

Nancy called out her name as Kat hollered, “Ayo, Casper!”

Rue turned towards the car.

“Wanna ride?” Kat winked.

Rue sauntered over to the car and leaned in close to Kat. A smile crept across her lips as she nodded, “Why, thank you.”

Nancy whooped in approval and swung her door open. “Bitch!” she proclaimed wrapping her arms around the tipsy teenager. Rue smiled sloppily and scooted into the car next to Nancy.

As they continued their trek to the party, Nancy thought about everything she wanted to ask Rue. How was she? How was rehab? Was her family okay? Was she okay? But she didn’t ask any of these things. Rue was already drunk; her stumbling down the road and glassy eyes made that obvious. And Nancy knew Rue well enough that if Rue was drunk and headed to a party that meant two things: rehab was not working and Rue was definitely going down a spiral. Nancy looked at her old friend, who sat staring out the window, rolling her eyes at the conversation between Kat and Maddy in front of her.

She reached her arm over and brought Rue into another embrace, “I missed you, you know?”

Rue squeezed her shoulders and gave her a tight smile, “I missed you too.”

“Maybe we can hang out sometime this week? Catch up?”

Rue’s eyes grew at the question. A hint of happiness shown through her orbs. “Yeah, I’d like that,” she grinned.

When they pulled up to the party, the whole front yard was already filled with drunk students. Red solo cups flew around the air, and the stench of alcohol and weed was almost suffocating as they walked into the house. Nancy made her way to the kitchen with her girls, and they all grabbed some beer before making their way to the living room.

Now, we all know that this night got fucking weird. So now that the four girls were all completely wasted, it was time for them to take their newfound, drunken confidence and use it to unwillingly embarrass themselves. However, luckily for Nancy, her drunk alter ego did her some favors, and while Maddy was busying herself with getting back at Nate, Kat was losing her virginity, and BB was out doing God knows what, Nancy found herself strutting towards the cute boy from that same morning. You know, the one who sold her drugs.

“Fancy seeing you again,” she jested, plopping down beside him on the couch. She kicked her feet up onto the table in front of them, showing off her Doc Martens.

“Hey, kid,” Fezco spoke, sitting up on the couch. “Shit, you come to these parties? I ain’t ever seen ya around before.”

“My first real party,” Nancy snorted, putting up jazz hands, making the man chuckle quietly.

“Word,” he affirmed. “That’s what’s up. How’s it been so far?” His eyes never left hers.

She smiled at his question, her eyes sparkling. “Fucking great,” she gushed. “I had like five shots and some beers and danced for hours.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Good for you, kid. Jus’ stay away from those drugs, right?”

She saluted and echoed his words, “Aye, staying away from drugs.”

She watched as he took a drag of the roll tucked between his fingers. He closed his eyes and leaned back as he puffed the smoke out. Slowly, he turned back to look at her, and she met his eyes, a small smile growing on her face.

However, the serenity between the two at that moment was shortcoming as Nancy began to feel her insides twist inside her. The alcohol was starting to catch up, and the hazy, relaxed feeling in her head began to turn into a throbbing sensation. She jerked up from the couch, startling the man as she ran to find the closest bathroom. She ducked around people, running into some before she finally reached the toilet, whipping the door open. Chunky liquid left her system, and the awkward feeling of throwing up, along with the horrid stench, caused her eyes to prickle with tears.

She was startled when she felt someone pull her hair back for her, placing their other hand on her back. The palm rubbed circles as the person spoke, “Shit, kid. You drank way too much.”

When she was finally finished ridding the toxins from her body, she leaned back from the toilet. Fezco handed her some toilet paper, and she wiped off her mouth. Her makeup was totally ruined, black streaks running down her cheeks and lipstick smudged.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout me. You good?” he rubbed her back, watching her closely. She refused to look at him, too embarrassed.

“I will be. Thank you,” she whispered.

He smiled warmly at her. “Never caught ya name.”

“Nancy,” she answered, finally meeting his gaze. He was smiling at her, but it wasn’t an amused smile. It was something else.

“Right. I think I heard Nate mention you before.”

“Shit,” she muttered. “He’s gonna fucking murder me if he sees me like this.”

She began to stand up, but lost her balance. Fezco chuckled, steadying her. “You betta’ slow down. I think he’ll survive. He ain’t ya dad.”

She thinly smiled, nodding. “Right.” She laughed dryly and he gave her a questioning look. “Fuck, this is, like, really embarrassing,” she confessed.

He shook his head, “Kid, I’m so fuckin’ high who knows if I’ll remember this.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Thank you, really.” They looked at each other quietly for a moment, eyes locked together. Nancy could feel her stomach starting to turn again, but something was different about it this time. There was more of a fluttering rather than her organs getting flipped around. She looked away, stuttering, “I should probably go home.”

Fezco nodded, “Alright. I’ll see ya around, kid.”

She let out a soft okay before turning to find Maddy in the crowd. But she ran into her brother first.

“The fuck you doing here? What happened?” Nate bellowed, looking down at her. Her hair was a frizzy mess and one of her spaghetti straps had fallen off her shoulder. Her eyes were puffy when she looked up at him.

“Shut up,” she scowled at him. “Have you seen Maddy?”

He turned around, looking past the back window into the pool. Nancy leaned over to see around him and saw Maddy in the pool with another boy. She turned back to her twin, hesitantly grabbing his forearm to get his attention.

“Can we just go home?” she croaked. He looked down at her, not saying anything for a moment, before slowly nodding his head.

“Come on,” he grunted, leading her out the house and to his car.

When they got home, Nate walked around the truck and opened the door for her, helping her as she stumbled out of the car.

“Can you at least look like you can fucking walk before dad sees you? Jesus,” he grumbled, helping her walk to the door.

When they got inside she pulled away, stumbling up the stairs. She whispered a goodnight to him before staggering into her room and on her bed. She groggily kicked off her shoes before pulling her comforter up. Her head was throbbing, and her eyes felt heavy as she laid on her bed, sending a quick text to Maddy letting her know she went back home.

She heard her door creak open.

“Goodnight, kiddo. You need anything?” she heard her dad whisper from across the room. She looked over at him. He was peeking his head through her door, looking at her with kind eyes.

“Can I get some water?” she yawned. “And some Tylenol?”

She heard him chuckle, “Sure thing, kid.”

When he came back and handed her the pills she swallowed them and chugged the bottled water before plopping her head back on her pillows. She felt her father gave her a quick peck on the forehead, whispering goodnight, before sleep engulfed her.

#fezco euphoria #fezco fanfic #fezco x oc #fezco #maddy perez #kat hernandez #nate jacobs #rue bennett #euphoria #euphoria fanfic #my oc #fezco-euphoria #nate jacobs euphoria #rue bennet euphoria #maddy perez euphoria #kat hernandez euphoria

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years ago

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Okie doke so I have a lot of asks piled up but I’m gonna need to take my time with them. So in the meantime I’m gonna give you guys a few of my own personal writings while i weed through my writers block. I hope you can understand, I have fourteen prompts to get to but I am a little muddied on getting through each one.

David Headcanons

Italian food used to be his favorite when he was alive. Santa Carla was flooded with immigrants from all over, especially a high concentration of Europeans so he had experienced real Italian cuisine from the few family owned joints that would come and go. When he was turned he tried to defy his vampire roots after learning that garlic didn’t hurt him- only to find out it didn’t hurt him EXTERNALLY. The tragic tango of pasta primavera in his stomach had him sick as a dog for days! Since he’s opted for other cuisines, but secretly he misses when he could freely ingest copious amounts of garlic

Outside of rock, David really loves classical music. Particularly foreign opera. Why? Because it is some of the most intense sounds you will ever hear. The melancholic arias of tortured souls left on the brink of tragedy soothe his untamed internal rage. However, he often doesn’t get to because as soon as he does Paul pitches a fit.

“Aw whaaat? Classical? Who invited the old lady to the party?! “

“Will you shut up and let me listen to my music, asshole?”

“Ooooh excuse me! Yes of course, Lord Snooty von Dickweed. Would you care for your pet poodle and a plate of caviar? Hey! Maybe we can find your balls, dude”

Of course he could just kick him out but it’s far too much of a hassle. He’s genuinely pleased, albeit subtly so, when he managed to snatch up a walkman off a victim so he can listen to his music in peace.

We’ve seen him smoke, but no one really gathers just what a chimney this guy is. David smokes practically every hour, when one burns out he just snags another. Any reason is a good reason to pull out a cigarette. Stressed? Smoke. Hungry? Smoke. Tired? Smoke. Happy? Smoke. But worst of all are his nicotine withdrawals. Seriously, do not approach him when he’s run out of cigarettes. It doesn’t matter who you are. Last time Paul tried to tease him while he was waiting for nightfall, David nearly threw him out into the sun. Withdrawal is far worse as a vampire than it was for him as a human. His restless legs get far more jittery, his back can cramp, it’ll give him an agonizing headache, and his hunger is somehow amplified.

Surprisingly, he can’t stand the 1931 film of Dracula with Bela Lugosi. Not that Lugosi doesn’t do a good job. In fact, it’s far too good. While not appearing visually the same as Vlad Dracul, the bastard who just so happened to be responsible for turning him and his friends back in 1906, his personality is extremely close. Just watching him slink in the shadows, waltzing about in that chilling Hungarian-Romanian accent boils David’s undead blood. If he’s going on the Universal monsters, he prefers Boris Karloff in Frankenstein.

Over the years David has picked up Russian and French. When you’ve been unchanged in an abandoned wreckage of a hotel for over eighty-one years, you learn to pick up a few things. Currently he’s learning German which he finds rather easy so far although he finds himself speaking a tad choppy at times. Sometimes he’ll use the wrong language and end up asking Paul to bring him the wine bottle of blood in Russian. Needless to say he was utterly confused and had to be retold in English.

Despite what one might assume, David does not enjoy having sex with multiple partners. Not polyamory, just sex in general. He finds that hollow humping up against some seasoned tart behind a bar before bidding adieu does nothing for him. If there’s no intense intimacy there’s less really keeping him invested. Now love isn’t exactly what is required, but there has to be some sort of connection to give him the desire to pursue a lover. Quality over quantity. Getting to know his partner is an exciting endeavor that allows him to take control, dominating him or her until they are utterly helpless to his will. A quick fuck is nothing but a way to kill time, which frankly he can find so many more productive things to do when he’s bored that require much more brain power and a lot less sticking himself in something, sorry, someone that he honestly doesn’t know where they’ve been.

Halloween, of course, is his favorite time of year. However he also has a soft spot for Christmas. Frankly the whole peace on Earth and goodwill towards men crap makes him sick simply because no one had ever given a crap about him, but the entire feeling of it all did give him a sense of calm. The lights are a stunning sight for sure, and he'd even have a few less shitty humans mistaking him for one of the teen runaways living on the Santa Carla streets. Well, he wasn't , but he wasn't about to tell that to some sweet old lady handing out rusty tins of fresh brownies. Who the hell could waste brownies? Not him. His favorite memory goes back to 1904 when he and the boys managed to scrape up enough dough between pick pocketing gigs to share a room at a decent hotel. The managers wife even brought them up the leftovers from their own Christmas dinner, half a roast bird, a plate of rolls, a fat bowl of mashed potatoes and some gravy. They of course were grateful, and Paul couldn't help but flirt just to kiss ass. Dwayne got Paul a new knife, Marko got David this pretty swanky looking cigarette case he snatched off some rich dick who mistook him for a shoe shiner, David found some old iron ring they couldn't sell and gave it to Dwayne, and Paul got a few bottles of rum for them to get Yuletide hammered. Sure it didn’t sound like much of a big deal, but sitting on a real bed for once by a fireplace slamming back booze and roast chicken while whooping Marko’s ass in black jack was the first time in a long time he had genuinely laughed. Since then its been particularly blase, but Marko and Paul will often make a tradition out of a few bottles of booze, throwing some cheap decorations around the hotel, and they all spend the night playing card games over some take out roast chicken and a few quick sides.

#lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #the lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lost boys #fanfic #80s movies #lost boys david #lost boys head canon #headcanon #fandom #fanfiction author

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gambissanctum · 3 years ago

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Nostalgia Ultra: Jenn X Khalil/Strawberry Swing (Fanfic part 3)

"When we were kids, we hand-painted strawberries on a swing . Every moment was so precious then, I'm still kicking it, I'm daydreaming on a strawberry swing."

Over the next year, Philky and I got really close. I learned he was a former ASA member that fell on hard times and that clearly had a drinking problem. Painkiller and I got more accustomed to each other. He was still an asshole but a hell of a lot more tolerable. Philky and I struck a deal that if I broke into this abandoned ASA bunker that he would help me get a handle on PainKiller.We ended up using the money to create our lab and bar. In addition to Philky I also met Donald and Priscilia. Donald who at the time was in a similar state that I had met Philky in, was an ex-military guy with a lot of medical knowledge. He has a duality about himself too. I think that's how we bonded so quickly. He's always a voice of reason amongst the chaos and good at keeping us all in line.

Priscilla is originally from New Orleans. She is a firecracker with southern charm. She moved to Gothan for few years and use to strip. While in Gotham she got into it with people you don't want problems with so she like me decided it was time to find a new place. She came into the bar one day looking for a bartending job. She's been here ever since. She's also a meta with the power of telepathy, shapeshifting and she's even skilled in Martial arts. Needless to say, she's been an asset since she walked in those doors 6 months ago.

"Hey Khalil, you good?" Priscilla snapped her fingers in front of my face at the bar. I snap myself back into the present. "Painkiller" I shrug. "He giving you trouble again? You know I can go in there and whoop his ass" she suggested. She was always volunteering to fight with PainKiller. To be honest I think both of them enjoyed the fights. "Nah, you're good, he says hello though" I replied. "I bet he had more to say than that" she laughed. Since Priscilia is telepathic she can get into the head of just about anybody. She calls it a blessing and a curse because sometimes she can control it, sometimes she can't. Sometimes she hears multiple conversations at once, which can be overwhelming for her. That's where Philky comes in. He's helped her control things a bit better. I think collectively we're all just works in progress here in Akashic Valley.

We were closed up for the night so I headed to my room. I was having one of those nights again. Not bad just reminiscing. I hadn't sketched in a while so I dusted off my sketchbook and pencils and got to work. There was a sketch I was working on I hadn't finished yet. A little time had passed and there was a knock on the door.

I looked up to see Priscilia standing there. " You drawing Jenn?" she teased. Priscilla was like a big sister in a lot of ways. " How'd you know?" I asked. "Khalil I can read minds...." she laughed.

"Aye stop doing that " I threw a pillow at her. " This time it was on accident, I swear" she raised her hands. "Pain Killer is gonna catch you off guard one of these days" I joked."Mane, PK don't want none of this" she started punching the air. Pris had been through a lot too but she was always making things lighter for everyone around her. "Speaking of reading minds, you wanna know what she's thinking right now?" She folded her arms raising a brow. "You can do that?" I was curious. I didn't want to invade Jennifer's privacy but I did want to know.

"I told you Philkys been helping me" she reminded me. She started to concentrate. When she's tapping in so to speak she looks like she's in a trance. Her eyes gloss over and turn a glowing white."She's on a roof...smoking weed". I chuckled a bit. "Sounds like Jenn". " Someone just joined her on the roof, looks like a guy". "Probably TC" I replied."No, actually this guy looks a lot like you....". She was confused at first but she tried to concentrate more.

"This is almost uncanny, this guy looks more like you than PK does". I started to get concerned."What?"

"Philky taught me how to hop to another person's consciousness outside of my original target....let me hop on to this guy. I don't trust this". She tapped over into the guy's brain. Her eyes widened. "What! What do you see Pris?!" I inquired. " This guy does not have good intentions at all. It's a shapeshifter. I think Jennifer is in trouble."What is he thinking Pris?" Her eyes reverted back and she looked me directly in the eyes. "Nothing good, I think he's going to kidnap her". I felt like time stopped for a moment. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Who would want to kidnap Jen?

I grab my phone and call TC. "Hey Khalil? Are you alright? It's kinda late" he answered.

"Yeah, I know.I think something bad is about to happen to Jenn. I need you or Anissa to go over to the house like now." My anxiety was high.I knew time was of the essence.

"How do you know? What's going on?" TC sounded like he was half awake so this call and request was coming out of left field.

"There's a guy who looks like me on the roof with Jennifer right now. It's a shapeshifter and we think he's going to try to harm Jenn, you have to go now." I pleaded.

I look over a Priscilla she's back in the trance. That was until she started shaking. I rushed off the phone with TC as he agreed to go to the house. "Pris!" I yelled out running over to her convulsing body. Just then Donald and Philky ran in. "What's going on? Philky ran over to aid Priscilia. "Let's get her to the lab".

TC attempts to call Jenn but there's no answer. He contacts Anissa and she tells him she's on the way there too. TC gets to the house first but Jenn was already gone. There didn't seem to be any signs of struggle but there was a letter on her vanity.

It read:

" Hey J,

I know it's been a while. I've been trying to stay out the way. Forgive me if this is too much. I could understand if you still want nothing to do with me but I needed to get his off my chest. You've been a light in my life even when everyone else gave up on me.

I cherish the memory of the strawberry swing, where we first met. The moment I saw you, I knew you were going to be an important part of my life.

When I look at you, I just want to protect you even though I know you don't need my protection.

Over the past year, I've made some friends and they have helped with my control of PainKiller. The good news is I don't have the kill order anymore. I really want to see you. If you are okay with it please meet me on the roof for old times sake Saturday night.

All my love,

Khalil

Anissa comes in. "What's going on? Where's Jenn?" she asked."That's what I'm trying to figure out, look at this." TC hands Anissa the letter. She reads it. "Khalil?" "Yes and No, so from what Khalil told me there's a shapeshifter impersonating him and I think it got to Jenn."

#black lightning #blacklightning #painkiller #jenniferpierce #gambissanctum #lightning #khalil payne #pain killer #china anne mcclain #jordan calloway

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1917-boys · 5 years ago

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Coming Home (Will Schofield Fluff)

Requested: Yes / No

Word count: 1,819

Author’s Note: This is all over the place, I apologize

The sun’s rays warmed your back as you kneeled before the garden in the front of your home. The sky was a pale shade of blue, and the temperature was warm, but not hot. Your flowers were beginning to bloom and the nature around your home was beautiful. The only downside was that your husband, Will, wasn’t here to bask in the beauty alongside you.

When Will had returned from town, hand clutching a draft card, you were struck with worry. The townspeople had been calling this war the Great War, and you had heard why. The loss of life was ghastly, and now your husband was about to be thrown into the fray.

He had walked briskly up the path to your home, reaching for your hand. After that, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before wrapping you up in his embrace.

You would learn soon enough that his embrace was what you missed the most.

That night at dinner, he had asked your daughters, “You’ve heard about the war at school?” They were both so young, then. Merely 7 and 5, they had no reason for knowing the horrors of the war. They both had nodded, though, unaware that their father was soon to break the unfortunate news to them.

When they heard their father was leaving, countless tears were shed. Not only from your daughters, but from you and Will as well. Nobody wanted to be separated, but the country required it.

All you could do was hope he would come back.

Three years had passed, and the spring of 1918 was in full bloom. You continued to work in the garden, pulling weeds and watering the new blossoms.

Finishing up in the garden, you began the short walk into town to take your daughters home after school. The often-travelled dirt road to town was empty, a sight that used to be unusual, but since the start of the war, had become normal. With all the young men off to fight, everything seemed to be different.

‘Would things ever get back to normal?’ You asked yourself, approaching the town.

The schoolhouse was a beautiful building, built from solid red brick and oak. As the children began to file out the door, you caught sight of your younger daughter. “Mama!” She cried happily, running from the doorway into your arms. You knelt down to greet her, hugging her. “Is Daddy coming home?” She asks excitedly, still in your arms.

You pick your head up to meet her gaze, smiling sadly. “I don’t know yet, darling,” you began, “a lot of things are still uncertain.” Her brows furrowing, she stepped back to look up at you. “My teacher says that the Army is starting to send people home. Her brother is coming home tomorrow, and she said that we need to ask and see if anyone we know is coming home,” she said, happiness slowly draining from her face at your blank expression.

“I didn’t hear that, darling,” you reply. Upset, your daughter sighs before turning to face the schoolhouse entrance, awaiting her older sister’s exit.

A few minutes pass, and your eldest daughter walks out of the schoolhouse. As her eyes fall on you, she walks up to you before smiling and hugging you. “We need to go to the post office, right away!” She says, in place of her usual greeting.

You couldn’t help but give in to them. The girls had been through so much these past years without their father, but they were always strong and carried through.

As the three of you walk to the post office, hand in hand, the young paper delivery boy exits the building. He rushes over to you, gladness painted on his youthful face.

“He’s coming home, Mrs. Schofield!” The boy cries. Spirits flying, you are eager to read the letter stating your husband was coming home. The young boy continues, “I can’t wait to see my father again!” As the realization dawns on you that it isn’t Will that’s coming home, you are once again filled with worry and sorrow.

“That’s fantastic!” You say to the boy, smiling happily for him in spite of yourself.

You only wished that it was you and the girls celebrating like that.

As the paper boy skipped away happily, you turn to your daughters, squeezing their hands. “He’ll come back, I know it,” you murmur to them quietly. Nodding eagerly in response, they pull you along to the front door of the post office.

As you enter, the familiar aroma of paper and ink envelopes you. Inhaling slowly, you relish in the comforting scent before approaching the front desk.

“Good afternoon, Marge. Is there any mail for us?” You inquire to the lady working. Smiling back at you, Marge reaches down to pick up a short stack of mail.

“This one’s from Army Command,” Marge tells you, excitement bubbling within her for you. As she hands the stack over to you, Marge turns to your daughters, waving at them before reaching into a drawer and retrieving a toffee for each of them.

You grin at Marge, thanking her for the candy and the mail. She waves a friendly goodbye to the three of you before returning to her work. Exiting the post office, your daughters look up at you, hope practically seeping through their faces.

“We’ll read it when we get home,” you told them, although you were just as eager as them to read the letter. “How about we race home, then?” Your younger daughter suggests, a smirk playing on her lips. Both you and your other daughter look at her before glancing at each other, each of you grinning.

“Okay. On your mark, get set, go!” You exclaim. The three of you rush home, kicking up dirt as you run. The spring breeze is warm against your face and the grass and flowers you run past are only a blur of color. ‘It’s beautiful,’ you think.

The run to your home was relatively short, but when you arrived back you were all panting. Out of breath, you enter the house and place the mail on the dining room table. Your daughters begin to giggle, their contagious laughter ringing throughout the house. You laugh as well, basking in the time you get to spend with them.

“Come on, then! Let’s read it!” Your younger daughter urges you, grabbing the letter from the table and seating herself. Her sister nods enthusiastically, anticipation clawing at her.

You sit down at the table, and reach for the letter from your daughter’s hand. Opening the letter, your eyes scanned the paper. Reaching the end, you gasp loudly and happily, your hand reaching up to cover your mouth in shock.

A large smile breaks out on your face, a breathless laugh leaving your mouth. “He’s coming home,” you murmured to yourself, looking up to meet the expectant gazes of your daughters. It seemed unreal, but you held in your hand the proof that it was indeed reality.

“He’s coming home,” you repeated, a bit louder. The idea seemed so foreign to you that you couldn’t contain the excitement but also confusion that came with the fantastic news that yes, your husband was alive and was going to come home.

Your daughters pick up on your anxious, yet excited, response and quickly sit up to read the letter themselves. Whooping with joy, they leap from their seats with wild smiles on their faces. “Daddy’s coming home!” They cried together.

After all, this was the moment they had been waiting for, just as much as you.

Two weeks pass, and you walk to the train station, hand in hand with your daughters. Approaching the station, you’re giddy with anticipation. Your daughters’ hands shake in your own, unbelievably eager to see their father.

A scarlet steam engine pulls into the station, and young men gleefully jump from the train onto the platform, rushing to hug their loved ones. Your eyes scan the crowd hopefully, praying for a glimpse of Will’s sandy blond hair. Seeing nothing, you glance down at your daughters, smiling softly. “I’m sure he’s on the next one,” you say to them, hoping that the words were true.

‘He can’t be dead, right?’ You asked yourself.

As the station platform slowly clears, your eyes drift to the sky. The soft, gentle breeze of the morning has picked up its pace. The sky darkens and you smell a whiff of rain.

Leading your daughters to an empty bench, you take a seat between them, breathing in the fresh air. Flowers were planted along edge of the platform, and you could smell their sweet aroma from your seat. You close your eyes, waiting for the next train.

The train that would hopefully carry your husband.

‘Hopefully,’ you thought.

But there’s only one way to find out.

Your daughters stand up to play in the small grass field near the platform as you move to observe the flowers. You kneel to get a good smell of a beautiful daisy, and that’s when you hear it.

It’s faint . . . but it’s a train whistle nonetheless.

“Girls,” you call out to them. Ceasing their game, they rush to you and cling to each leg. The platform had begun to fill up once again, as the next wave of families yearned to see their soldiers return home.

Another train, this time black and gray in color, pulls into the station and soldiers begin to exit the train. You search the crowd until you see a head of ruffled, sandy blond hair. Smiling, you stand up taller to try and get a glimpse of the man’s face. Your excitement rubs off on your daughters, who begin to smile as well.

The sandy blond-haired man approaches your group slowly, unbeknownst to you. As the man steps into your line of sight, you let out a strangled gasp.

Standing before you is Will. He looks tired and hungry and unkempt, but he’s still Will.

You rush forward, throwing your arms around him. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Will buries his head in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. Your daughters hurry forward, each hugging their father around the waist. Will pulls away, his arms still around your waist before he kisses your forehead.

The kiss is gentle, but holds years worth of passion and love. “I missed you all, so much,” Will says, his voice rough with emotion. Kneeling down to face his daughters, he hugs them both before standing again to face you.

“It was horrible, love. Honestly,” he begins, “But knowing that you were waiting here patiently for me to come home means everything to me. If fighting in France is what keeps you safe, know that I’d do it a thousand times over if it means getting to come home and see your bright smile again.”

#will schofield #will schofield x reader #will schofield fluff #ws

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largedenominationsplease · 4 years ago

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Wish You Were Sober

Summary: The Pogues are growing up and following their dreams, which means it's time for JJ and Kiara to sort through some feelings. Loosely inspired by "Wish You Were Sober" by Conan Gray.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: This was originally posted on ao3, but I wanted to share here as well.

August is full of gold and light and sunsets and new beginnings. It’s exciting and revitalizing and hopeful. But at the end of this August, a deep blue shadow edged nearer and nearer, threatening to turn all Augusts deep and blue and dreary for the rest of history. They were all leaving.

After the chaos of the gold hunting summer, when John B and Sarah finally made it back from the Bahamas with the gold, the Pogues had made a solemn pact to stay in the Outer Banks together, and they took it very seriously. Then came graduation and talk of going to college. The constant, “What are you going to do with your life?” questions wore them down. John B, Sarah, and Pope took a gap year, but Pope’s parents had threatened his life if he changed his school plans, especially after he “won a scholarship” from the mysterious “Denmark Tanny Education Grant” - in other words, his secret savings account. Sarah started talking about becoming a social worker, while John B wouldn’t shut up about the police academy and honoring Sheriff Peterkin’s memory. Kiara also talked about her plans, the Peace Corps, or volunteering in Thailand, and though she made it sound like that was years down the road, everyone knew she was getting restless. So, as summer approached, the Pogues had had a serious meeting about the future, or as serious as you can be at eighteen-almost-nineteen. They absolved the pact to stay in the Outer Banks, but they kept strict communication rules: regular updates in the group chat, facetime sessions at least weekly, and frequent visits. And so plans were made; John B and Sarah were moving to Chapel Hill at the end of August so she could attend the University of North Carolina (John B had considered getting a degree in law enforcement, but had decided to work until he was old enough to apply for the police academy). Pope was headed off to Duke to study forensic pathology like he had always dreamed. Frequent jokes were cracked about them attending rival schools, but at least they’d live within thirty minutes of each other. Kiara’s plans involved a little more distance. She had decided to volunteer her way through Europe for a few months once the tourist season was over. She had one-way tickets booked for the middle of September, and she hadn’t mentioned her plans to return as of yet. JJ was the only one without any plans. It came as no surprise that he hadn’t graduated high school, he never attended. Instead, he got a job at a local auto shop his cousin owned. He was lucky they hired him, and though the pay wasn’t phenomenal, it was enough he could pay rent to John B and Uncle T and stay in the Chateau without tapping into his savings. He joked that you couldn’t pay him to leave the Outer Banks, though that felt like a lie. Especially now that summer was ending and these dreams were becoming a reality for everyone else.

“One last kegger!” John B was saying. JJ tried not to wince at that word: last.

“Pogues for life!” Kiara whooped, jumping up and threatening to flip the hammock she was sharing with JJ and Pope.

Pope wrestled the half-finished beer from her hands. “I think you’ve had enough of that.”

Kiara dove across him clumsily, trying to recover the bottle. Almost-drunk Kie was more comfortable around Pope. After their kiss that one summer, things had gotten awkward fast as she realized she didn’t have any romantic feelings for him. They had fought hard to get their relationship back to the easy-going friendship it had been, but it hadn’t made a full recovery - unless one or both of them was drunk.

“Easy tiger,” JJ said, pulling her back into her spot between himself and Pope.

She gave him an odd look. “You’re not drunk.”

“No, I have work in the morning.”

“When did JJ become the most mature?” Sarah slurred. She really hadn’t had that many drinks, but then again she was a total lightweight.

“What do you say, Oh Mature One?” John B shifted so he was looking directly at JJ. “Kegger tomorrow night at the Boneyard?”

“Hell, yeah!” JJ settled back into the hammock, not really thinking about the fact that his arm was still around Kiara’s waist.

The rest of the Pogues whooped in agreement, downing their drinks and reaching for more.

***

JJ woke up five full minutes before the alarm on his phone went off the next morning. Kiara’s feet were in his face and she was snoring softly, as she tended to do when drunk. The slight headache pulsing through his temples told him he had had more to drink than he should have despite going to bed before the rest of the group, which was probably why he didn’t remember Kie crashing in his bed. He threw a blanket across her and made his way to the bathroom. He could see Sarah and John B wrapped around each other in their room, and in the other room, Pope passed out on the pull-out. Just like old times, he thought with a pang of nostalgia.

As he got ready for work and made breakfast JJ found himself getting more excited about the party they’d have that evening, despite his initial apprehension. Though the Pogues were over at the Chateau almost every night this summer, they hadn’t had a real hang at the Boneyard in a while. Maybe one last summer hurrah really would lessen the sting of the Pogues parting ways.

JJ hadn’t bothered with being quiet that morning. Most of the Pogues were deep sleepers. Add alcohol to the mix and he doubted he’d wake anyone up, so it was a surprise when Kiara wandered bleary-eyed and half-asleep down the hall. “Look who decided to make an appearance!” JJ said.

“Shh,” Kie groaned. “No speaking, just coffee.”

JJ obediently handed over his mug of coffee and set about pouring a new one. Kiara hugged the cup close and sank to the floor, sitting conveniently in the exact center of the kitchen. She was wearing one of his sweatshirts - but she always stole all the guys’ clothes.

“Jeez, Kiara, could you choose a more inconvenient spot, maybe?” She simply squinted up at him from the floor in response. “You’re in pretty bad shape, hope you don’t have work today.”

“Shit!” she cried. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“I have to be at work at ten,” she groaned. “My dad’s gonna kill me if I show up late and hungover.”

“Need a ride over there?” JJ asked.

“It won’t make you late, will it?”

“‘Course not,” he lied.

“You’re the best!” she jumped up clumsily and kissed him on the cheek before stumbling her way back down the hall to freshen up. She was more or less ready within five minutes, opting to keep on JJ’s sweatshirt, paired with yesterday’s shorts. “How do I look?” she asked, shoving on sunglasses and reaching for a second cup of coffee.

“Hot.”

“Liar. Let’s go.”

They arrived at the Wreck, and JJ asked, as Kiara jumped out of the van, “When do you get off?”

“Four-thirty. Dad might make me stay longer to make up for showing up late, though.”

“I can’t get back here till five.”

“Okay, that’s cool. See you then! Thanks for the ride!” She downed the last of her coffee and chucked the travel mug into the back of the van through the window. She was still off-balance as she ran up to the door. JJ watched until she was inside. Today was going to go by so slowly, he could feel it.

***

The day ended up dragging by for everyone. There was usually quite a bit of work at the auto shop, but today was abnormally slow. The same went for the Wreck; as they approached the end of tourist season, their business dropped considerably. When five o’clock finally rolled around, Kiara dropped everything and bolted. JJ was just pulling into the parking lot, followed closely by John B and Sarah on JJ’s bike. “Pope’s meeting us there a little later!” Sarah called. She raised an eyebrow as Kiara approached, noticing JJ’s sweatshirt.

John B was trading off keys with JJ, “Sarah and I are going to pick up the kegs; meet you there?”

Despite the earliness, a few kids were milling around when the crew arrived, mostly Tourons. JJ and Kiara started a bonfire and kicked the party off with some of his cousin’s “cripple.” As it got later more and more people showed up, still mostly Tourons and other kids from the Cut, but a few Kooks made an appearance. Tensions still ran high between Kooks and Pogues, but if beer and weed were offered, they were pretty much willing to put aside their differences. The sun began to set, while the party began to heat up. Someone had brought a speaker and was blasting some obnoxious club mixes; people were dancing.

Sarah made her way over to the fire where Kiara was beginning to relax thanks to the joint in her hand. She’d had a few drinks at this point and was pleasantly buzzed. She tried to take the joint from Kiara but was pushed away. “You puke when you’re crossfaded, Sar!”

“I do not! Besides, I’m not even drunk.”

Kiara just laughed. Sarah plopped down next to her best friend and wrapped her arm around her. “I’m gonna miss you, Kie.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But don’t get emotional on me. Tonight we’re just having fun!” Kie put out her joint and threw it in the fire. Someone walking by handed the girls another drink.

“So,” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows and tugged on the sleeve of Kie’s - JJ’s - sweatshirt. “You and JJ?”

“Me and JJ, what?”

“Did you hook up?” Tipsy Sarah was even blunter and to the point than sober Sarah.

“God, no!” Kie couldn’t tell if the blood rushing to her face was due to the alcohol, the fire, or something else. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re wearing his clothes!”

“I’ve stolen clothes from all the guys, including your boyfriend! It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sarah hummed, half in disbelief. She decided not to fully change the subject. “Have you asked him yet?”

“Mm?” Kie hummed. “Oh… no. I don’t think he’ll want to go.” When Kie had realized JJ would be the only Pogue left in the Outer Banks this fall, she’d decided to ask him if he wanted to join her in Europe. She knew he had talked a big game about running away to Yucatan at sixteen, and perhaps he’d like to see a bit of the world. It’s not like they were strapped for cash, or he really needed his job at the auto shop. Even though they’d had to turn over most of the gold when John B and Sarah brought it back from the Bahamas, the crew had managed to hide enough of it away that they were pretty much set. The jobs they held were more for appearances, and so their parents didn’t ask too many questions.

“Of course he’ll want to go! Even if he doesn’t, worst-case scenario is he says no, and you go alone like you were already planning.” Sarah watched as Kie started chewing on her lower lip like she did when she was anxious. “Unless you don’t want to go alone?”

Kiara didn’t want to admit it, but she really didn’t want to travel by herself. She could take care of herself just fine and she enjoyed her alone time, but she’d never left the country before, and the thought of being so far from home with no one familiar around was starting to worry her. Just a little bit. She downed another beer and reached for another joint, saying lightly, “No I’m totally fine!”

“She says as she gets totally smashed,” Sarah muttered under her breath. Kie had gotten up and dragged a random Touron girl to dance with her.

Kiara’s tolerance was pretty high when it came to intoxicating substances, she rivaled JJ, though he wouldn’t admit it. By the time Sarah had joined her she was quite relaxed, so when she’d decided to dance she was well on her way to wasted, the combination of weed and beer making her a little dizzy. As she spun around with the pretty redhead in front of her, she caught sight of JJ standing way too close to a girl who was obviously there with her boyfriend. Kie fought the urge to roll her eyes until she noticed the boyfriend was equally fascinated with whatever bullshit JJ was spilling. She laughed to herself; leave it to JJ to flirt with a girl and get her boyfriend thrown in the mix, too. Somehow the thought of JJ flirting with someone else bothered her, but she chalked it up to the anxiety of asking him to go traveling with her. She called out for more beer.

JJ was having an alright time. He’d drank much less than he normally did, and he hadn’t even touched the joint in his pocket. The party he had been so excited for was setting him on edge for a reason he couldn’t quite place. His mind kept wandering back to the ride over to the Boneyard, with Kiara clinging to his waist as he took the backroads on his bike... There was a cute Touron girl talking to him and he allowed himself to flirt back until she introduced him to her boyfriend. He was always wary of boyfriends, and for once he really didn’t want to start a fight, so it was surprising when the boyfriend started flirting back. Shit. JJ thought and tried to back the hell out of that situation, a situation he normally would have been dying to jump into. He was two seconds from bolting just to get away from them, when Pope stumbled up, crashing into him drunkenly.

“Dude, you’re wasted!” JJ chuckled gratefully, pulling his less-than-sober friend away from the Tourons. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Enough,” Pope laughed. He was a happy drunk, though JJ could tell he was a moment away from puking. He steered Pope towards the cooler full of non-alcoholic drinks and fished out a water bottle. “Drink all of it,” he demanded.

Pope complied, first saying, “Kie’s dancing.” JJ had already noticed, of course. The pretty redheaded girl he didn’t recognize had her arms around Kie’s waist and they were passing drinks back and forth, neither of them anywhere near sober. Even drunk, Kie’s dancing was amazing. And she didn’t care who danced with her, she was always looking for a partner. Part of JJ wished he had been closer to her, and maybe she would have pulled him into the dance instead of the other girl. He was pulled away from the scene by the sound of Pope losing his entire dinner. “Shit,” Pope groaned. “I think I’m sticking with Coke for the rest of the night.”

“You do that, man,” JJ laughed.

The party wore on, but JJ stayed near Pope, making sure he wouldn’t pass out or anything. A nervous-looking girl wandered over, she was obviously not drinking and seemed rather uncomfortable with the whole situation. Pope asked her where she was from and she awkwardly explained that she was here with her sister, who had disappeared. To JJ’s surprise, Pope easily struck up a conversation with the girl, and she actually seemed interested in the crap he usually talked about - dead bodies and such. She actually knew a fair amount about forensics, studied it for a year or something. JJ decided to leave the two of them to their weird fascination with cadavers. He caught sight of Kie again, still with the redhead girl, though not really dancing anymore as much as stumbling aimlessly and laughing obnoxiously. JJ couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her that drunk.

Kiara saw JJ standing at the edge of the group of teens dancing. “JJ!” She cried wildly. She tugged the girl she was with along, “This is my bes’ frien’, you hafta meet him.” As she got closer, she waved, “J - JJ! Hi!”

She fell into him. He pulled her upright, saying, “Hey, Kie.”

“JJ! This is my friend! She’s so pretty. She’s..shit, wha’s your name?”

“Leah,” the girl giggled, in a North Carolina accent. She was as drunk as Kie. “OMG, y’all are too cute! She hasn’t stopped talking about you all night! I kinda thought I’d get to take her home with me, but not with you hangin’ around…” She trailed off with a boisterous laugh. She pulled a pen out of her pocket, grabbed Kiara’s arm, and started scribbling a phone number. “If you ever get bored with him, text me!”

“She’s so nice,” Kiara gushed. “So pretty. Her hair looks like the sunset, and she danced ama-amazing. Amazingly? Do you say amazing or amazingly? She smelled nice, too. Like strawberries.”

“Kie, how much have you had to drink?” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes unfocused, her speech slurring more by the second.

“Dunno…” she whispered, too loudly. JJ took her arm and moved to lead her away from the crowd, back to where Pope was still chatting with his new friend, but she pushed him away. “Can do it myself!” She said belligerently, taking a few faltering steps, and promptly tripping over a stray piece of driftwood and falling hard into the sand. She laid in a crumpled heap, not bothering to move.

JJ rushed to her side, cursing himself for letting her get this bad. He made her sit up, and asked, “Did you hurt yourself?”

Kie nodded tears filling her eyes. She didn’t cry over injuries, so it was either the alcohol in her system, or she’d actually gotten pretty hurt. She put a hand to the side of her head, and JJ noticed a thin line of blood running in between her fingers. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Let me see.” She’d hit her head on the driftwood as she fell, and though the scrape didn’t look too bad, head wounds did bleed a lot; he just hoped she hadn’t given herself a concussion. “Okay,” he continued. “That’s not so bad. C’mere, let’s clean you up.”

He steadied her as she struggled to her feet, but as soon as she took a step, she cried out. She sank back down to the ground this time clutching her foot. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Think I fucked up my ankle, too.” She’d moved past the happy-friendly-drunk stage, and was headed into angry-drunk territory, or maybe sad-drunk, neither of which JJ wanted to experience at that moment. He knelt to examine her foot, sliding her now-broken sandal off and prodding her ankle. He carefully wiggled her toes and twisted her ankle in various directions, checking for a break.

“Not broken,” he said finally. “Maybe sprained.”

“Fuck,” she growled - definitely into angry-drunk territory, now.

“I’m going to take you home-“ JJ started.

“No!” At this, the tears spilled over and down Kie’s cheeks, maybe sad-drunk after all. “No, I’m fucking shitfaced and my parents are going to kill me, especially after being late to work today…”

“Okay, okay. Wanna go to the Chateau instead?”

She nodded, tears still falling, her breathing erratic.

JJ managed to grab a water from the cooler and let Pope know what had happened. The harder task was convincing Kiara to drink the water before they took off on his bike. He would have preferred to take the van, but John B was nowhere to be found, and neither was Sarah. They were probably off getting into trouble somewhere. The bike ride back to the Chateau was surprisingly nice, Kiara still retaining enough sense to cling to JJ’s shirt, even if her balance was off. Once they pulled up to the door, JJ reached to help her dismount. “I can- I can do it myself!” She said.

“That’s what you said before you fucking concussed yourself, Carerra.” He lifted her off the bike easily and tried to set her on the ground, but her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into him.

“You smell nice,” she muttered.

“Sheesh, Kie, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked. Didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

They’d barely made it to the Chateau’s bathroom when Kie groaned, “Gonna puke.” JJ held her hair as she knelt in front of the toilet.

“Did you mix, Kie?” He asked surprisingly gently.

She nodded, catching her breath.

“You know better than that.”

She nodded again.

“That first-aid kit is still around here, right?”

Kie groaned in response resting her head against the toilet bowl. JJ continued rummaging in the cabinet, before finding a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a small first-aid kit. The cut on her head had almost stopped bleeding, so he started there, wiping it clean with peroxide. He handed her a wad of gauze and guided her hand to hold it to her head. “Hold this,” he said, as her hand started to drop. He placed her hand back on her head. “Hold this here. I’m getting ice.”

JJ returned with two bags of ice, one of which he placed on her rapidly swelling ankle. The other was for her head. He found antiseptic and a large bandage for her head. “How’d you get so good at this?” Kiara slurred.

“Practice,” he said with a grimace.

“Shit… sorry.” JJ hadn’t seen his dad in over a year at this point, but he still had a hard time talking about the things he experienced. Both Pope and Kie had tried to convince him to talk to a professional about his problems without much luck. Still, he had come a long way.

Once JJ had helped Kie clean up her injuries, he left her to take a shower. She noticed the redhead’s - Leah’s - phone number on her arm, and rolled her eyes with embarrassment; she set about scrubbing it off. When she stepped out of the shower, she saw he had left her a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt. She found some toothpaste and fumbled through brushing her teeth with her finger while inspecting herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, there was a massive bandage on the side of her head, and she was nowhere near sober, so some improvement was needed. Maybe sleep would help. She limped into the living room, her still wet hair dampening the back of the t-shirt and making her shiver. She flopped onto the pull-out, and almost dozed off.

JJ shook her leg, “Hey, Kie, you hit your head, you can’t sleep yet.”

She groaned as she sat up, “Dammit, Maybank.”

“You’re the one who decided to get totally shitfaced! Tea?” He handed her a hot cup of mint tea.

“Since when do y’all keep tea in this place?” She was grateful for the warmth, the mint soothing her dehydrated throat, and relaxing her.

“Since Sarah.” JJ made a face that, even drunk, Kie knew he didn’t really mean. He climbed onto the pull-out next to her, and she leaned into him, her head on his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be weird without them…” Kie said, trying to keep her eyes open.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll finally get some damn peace and quiet around here,” he said lightly.

“You won’t get lonely?” Kiara hadn’t meant to shift to that particular topic of conversation, but she was drunk enough she didn’t care.

“Probably will,” JJ was surprised at his own honesty, but then again, Kiara was so far gone, she probably wouldn’t remember this conversation.

“Come with me,” she said suddenly, sitting up.

“What?” JJ laughed nervously.

“To Europe. Come with me.” The words were just spilling out, now. Kie could feel her cheeks burning and decided to blame it on the alcohol, and maybe the tea. “The Outer Banks will always be here when we get back, so why not see the world with me?”

“Kie, you’re drunk,” JJ said slowly. “And you’re hurt, and you’re tired. You don’t really want me to come with you. I’d fuck up all your plans.”

“No, no you wouldn’t!” She made sure to set her cup of tea on the floor, despite the fact she almost fell off the pull-out doing so. Sitting on her knees, she leaned toward him, “JJ, I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while. I think you’d have fun, and I can’t stand the thought of you staying here alone!”

“Kiara, it’s a really bad idea. Imagine how much damage I could do in another country,” he laughed, though his voice was tight.

“That’s why we’d go together. To keep each other out of trouble and patch each other up when we do get scraped up. We’d have each other.” She was leaning over him now, her face inches from him.

“Kie, you’re drunk-“ he started again. She closed the last few inches left, and pressed her lips to his, sloppily.

He pushed her away and jumped up. “No,” he said firmly. He started pacing, “Damnit, Carerra, you’re the one always going on about consent, and you’re fucking wasted right now, and do you know how long I’ve been waiting for that-“ he cut himself off. “Fuck! I wish you were sober right now!”

He took off then, out the back door onto the porch. Through the window, Kie watched him fish a joint out of his pocket along with his lighter. He shakily ran his fingers through his hair and flopped down to sit on the stairs, staring out across the sound.

Kiara blinked furiously, tears of anger, sadness, embarrassment threatening to spill over. She was not sober, she knew, but she wasn’t that drunk either. The shower and tea had gone a long way to sobering her up. Granted, she probably shouldn’t have relied on the alcohol to get her through that conversation. And kissing him? God, what was I thinking?!

Wiping her eyes, she grabbed the quilt off the pull-out, made another cup of tea, and made her way out to the deck. It was slow going, with her sprained ankle and all, but in a moment she was easing herself down to sit next to JJ. She wrapped the quilt around their shoulders and handed him one of the mugs of tea. She leaned into his side, setting her chin on his shoulder. He tensed but didn’t pull away.

“Kie-“ he started.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have… I am drunk.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Between the tea and the joint, JJ had started to unwind. Kie was getting sleepy, each time she blinked her eyes stayed closed for a little longer. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” She murmured.

“Sure, Kie.” He wrapped his arm around her then. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

***

Kiara woke up in JJ’s bed, again. She didn’t remember going to bed or falling asleep, honestly, she didn’t remember going inside at all. The last thing she remembered was the smell of JJ’s shirt, saltwater and bonfire, and weed and dozing off on the porch stairs. She was still wrapped in the quilt from the pull-out, now. Her head and ankle were throbbing, but there was a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand, which she took advantage of. JJ was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the house was quiet; she wondered if any of the other Pogues had even bothered to come home the night before. On occasion, when a party got really out of hand, they would just crash in the van until they could drive again. As Kie made her way into the kitchen, her suspicions were confirmed, it was still just her and JJ. She smelled coffee.

“Mornin’,” she said softly. JJ was leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled herself up onto the counter.

“You sleep well?” JJ asked.

She nodded.

“Headache?”

Again, she nodded, then laughed, “This is so fucking domestic, who are we?”

The silence that followed was awkward. Kiara finally broke it, “Listen, about last night…”

“Kiara, I don’t want to-“

“We have to talk about it, J. I’d rather get it over with.” He sighed and gestured for her to continue.

“Okay,” she began. “I didn’t ask you to come with me to Europe because I was drunk. If I’m honest with myself, I got so drunk because I was nervous to ask you to come with me.”

“Why were you nervous?” JJ hated how small his voice sounded.

“Um, I guess I didn’t want you to say no. I’m kinda nervous to travel by myself and be away from the Pogues for so long.”

“Oh, and I’m the only one without plans, so I’m the only one left to ask.” There was no malice in his voice. It was just a fact.

“No, you were actually my first choice,” she held eye contact with him, willing herself to feel more confident. “Regardless of the others’ plans, I wanted to ask you.”

“Why me, Kie?” He’d put out the cigarette and set down his coffee cup.

She took a deep breath and decided to be honest with him and with herself, for the first time. “Because you’re my best friend, and I can’t stand that I won’t see you for months if I go alone. Because you’re the kindest person I know, despite everything you’ve been through. Because I was so fucking jealous last night when I saw you talking to other people that I got absolutely shitfaced and tried to make you jealous, too, but even then you weren’t, and you were still nice to me. Because when I made a total fool of myself and busted my ass you took care of me. Because even though I made things totally awkward you were still sweet and even carried me to bed, I think, I mean who does that-“

“Kie…”

She continued, “Because even though I waited until I was drunk to kiss you, I’ve been wanting to do that for a fucking long time-“

In two steps, JJ had crossed the kitchen to her and grabbed her face in his hands. He captured her lips with his, almost desperately. When they broke apart, he said, “Kiara, I’ve loved you since we were thirteen.”

“You’ve got me beat, Maybank. I’ve loved you since we were sixteen.” They both chuckled. “What took you so damn long?” She asked.

“Me? What about you? And your stupid, ‘no macking on other Pogues’ rule?”

“Fuck that rule,” she said and pulled him back to her for another kiss.

“Now that I��m pretty much sober, and only slightly hungover,” she said. “Will you please come with me to Europe?”

“Well, since you’re sober…” he said gently. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Kiara.”

For JJ, August was still full of gold and light and sunsets and new beginnings, and now that he had Kiara, it probably always would be. The Outer Banks and the Pogues would all be there when they returned.

#obx #outer banks #obx fic #outer banks fanfic #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jiara #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jiara fic #fanfic #fics with liv

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midnightartemis · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter One (Part One)

She learned that life was a game of survival from a young age. First, it was the religious fanatics— the ones with the locked fridge and the forced prayers and the idea that children were the spawn of Satan to be beaten and starved into godly angels. After them came the Johnsons. They were a young couple, hopeful and naive, and completely unprepared for the half-feral, skin and bones desert commune child that the government dumped in their laps. She didn’t last long there either. But they hadn’t let her starve and they hadn’t hit her and Rey tended to put that down as a plus in her book. It was why she started speaking (though in a British accent much to everyone’s surprise) and it was why she still kept their last name. Even when they gave up on her. After them… It was years in the system until she came to be in the hands of Unkar Plutt.

She learned how to survive. Learned how he always hit her where no one could see, but he only did it when he was raging drunk and he only was raging drunk a few times a month. She learned his tells, knew that some nights she was better off stealing a slushie from the 7-eleven and camping out at the skatepark until it was late enough to go back home.

As long as she did her chores and didn’t give him trouble, Plutt let her be. Rey was okay with that. She could survive that.

She sat on the lip of the park's bowl as the sun set, casting riotous shades of pink and purple and red across the cloudy sky. Summer had only just begun and while that met school, which she hated, was over, it also met more time with Plutt. More time in his shop. More ways to mess up and more drunken rages to avoid. She often wondered if he kept her around as something to look at or because she knew how to keep her mouth shut and balance his books. Both sets.

She’s been coming to the park for a while now, at least when the weather was decent. The weather was always decent. There was something comforting about the sound of wheels and boards on concrete, the whoops and hollers of the skaters, the warmth of the sun on her skin. Reminded her of the desert- only the best parts. People left her alone.

They learned after… Well, after they learned what happened when they didn’t. A few bloody noses. A few broken boards. Cause and effect.

The only ones who ever paid her any mind were Kuruk and his small band of nerdy boys in black. Even then it was only a few words here and there. She respected their space and they respected hers. And after the broken nose incident, she’d almost become an honorary member of their group. A staple of the skatepark. She’d never had anywhere to belong before.

It didn’t mean anything and you could fuck off if you thought it did.

Rey watched them lazily, sipping on her stolen slushie as Cardo and AP kept biffing it on the same rail trick with a loud “fuck!” Every time.

There were a few other people around, but like usual, most had left as it started to get dark.

“Hey! Hey!”

Rey snapped to focus, frowning as she realized Kuruk had been trying to get her attention for a while and was now slowly jogging over to her. He held his board at his side and there was a lopsided smile on his face. He wore black baggy jeans and a baggy t-shirt like the rest of them and he always kept his dark hair buzz cut like he thought about joining the military but only committed to the hair style.

“What.”

Kuruk laughed. “You’re a Rey of fuckin sunshine, you know that?”

Rey rolled her eyes. It was only the millionth time he had used that line on her. “What do you want, Kuruk?”

“The guys and I are headed to the loft. We wanted to know if you wanted to come.” He gave her that look that he always did that only told Rey he was trying to get in her pants. She was pretty sure the guys had a bet going on it.

She sighed. “You better have the good vodka this time. And better smokes. Those last ones tasted like dried out ass crack.”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally. One of my buddies is coming back from Chandrila and bringing the good college town shit.”

She didn’t know much about college towns but was fairly certain that “good” college town shit didn’t exist. She nodded anyway. “Fine. But imma kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

“Bet.” Kuruk offered her a hand and Rey let him pull her to her feet. She practically flew off the ground and threw them both into the bowl. It wasn’t that Kuruk was supernaturally strong or anything- she had seen him shirtless and seen that unfortunate happy trail- it was just that she was built like a skinny prepubescent boy with an eating disorder. Rey landed in Kuruks chest and scowled, shoving him off before he could say anything. Some whistles echoed over the park. She grabbed her melted purple slushie and flipped off the rest of the guys.

Rey went with them with the promise that life would maybe suck less for a little bit with them. At the very least they treated her to free booze and a toke. Inebriation was about the only thing that made Trudge and Ushar’s misogynistic idiocy palatable and Kuruk’s advances maybe not the worst thing in the world. It was nice to be liked. To be wanted. Even if it was just to win a bet. She’d never let them know that. Maker end her if they ever found out. She had enough self worth to know it would never fucking happen.

They skated through the darkening streets of Coruscant, slow enough that Rey could keep up on foot. It wasn’t hard. None of them could go ten feet without tipping a trash can over or trying to nail a trick off the curb. No one cared as they loudly made their way down the street, making themselves known to the world in the one way they could. Rey trailed after them in the dark. They left the cracked and degrading streets and dipped through a hole in the chain link fence, passing through a barely used rail yard and a dry culvert until they reached a small mostly abandoned warehouse.

A few years back some real estate guy had bought it and started trying to convert the place into condos. He got about half way done before, probably, coming to his senses and realizing that no one on the south side of Coruscant wanted to buy a luxury condo. Even if there was exposed brick and industrial aesthetic, there was also high crime rates and a hatred of outsiders and gentrification. Scared off most of the investors and the rest vanished after the recession hit and never seemed to leave the south side. Buying the one completed loft back from the city was the only smart decision the guys ever made. Even if they only did it to piss the cops off who kept kicking them out for trespassing.

Part of Rey wishes she had seen the encounter instead of hearing about it every five seconds from one of the guys. The other part of Rey wondered how they were even smart enough to come up with that plan, let alone execute it.

The Loft as they called it consisted of a giant open area that functioned as a gaming room and kitchen, the most disgusting bathroom Rey had ever stepped foot in, and three bedrooms which had once been split between all of them till Cardo got his own place and Vic moved in with his pregnant girlfriend. Three bedrooms became six after one drunken night where Ushar had taken a sledgehammer to the wall and broken into the abandoned half-finished apartment next door. As far as Rey knew, they were arguing between turning that living room into a sex dungeon or a pool table room. The vote was fifty fifty since Rey refused to participate and Trudge refused to pick a side. The whole place constantly smelled of weed and Kuruk’s weird incense.

Rey would never admit it, but she secretly loved the place. The ceilings were at least twelve feet high and there were huge metal framed windows that looked out over a field of dead grass to the lights of the city.

Kuruk dug through the mess of a freezer pulling out a half bottle of Everclear and a mostly empty bottle of captain morgans, which Rey snatched from him without a word. She found an unopened can of coke and poured it straight into the Captain's bottle, swishing it around before taking a large sip. No one blinked an eye.

Across the room, AP cursed as he tried to get the projector working. It wasn’t that old of a projector, but it had been purchased from some seedy electronic store that definitely looked the other way on where they acquired their products. Gaming was about the only thing they ever spent their money on and they had almost every game and system out there. That was the other reason Rey secretly liked this place. Secretly liked most of them.

Rey carried her bottle with her across the room, stopping AP before the short haired black kid started to rip the machine apart in frustration. If she was being honest, AP was the only guy she ever thought about letting win their stupid bet. He was shy and generally quiet and never really said much to her, which Rey prefered. He gave up the projector to her with a frustrated grunt and sat down on the giant sectional couch to roll a joint with the last of their weed.

After Rey popped open the lid of the projector and blew out the fan and circuitry, the projector came to life with a small whine. She popped the lid back on and adjusted the focus so it hit the stretched sheet across the room right.

She hopped down from the chair and took the lit joint from AP for a deep hit before passing it back. Trudge and Ushar eventually moved from the back rooms howling to each other and fighting over who would play COD first.

“Hey, dickheads. The lady’s already chosen Mario Kart.” Kuruk slammed a shot glass on the table. “Loser finishes the everclear.”

“She always fuckin wins.” Trudge groaned. “She always picks rainbow road. I fuckin hate rainbow road.”

Rey smiled to herself as Trudge and Ushar groaned but ultimately complied with their ringleader’s orders.

She could kick their asses at Mario Kart with a blindfold on. Rey snatched up the Wii remote and easily beat Trudge, Ushar, and Kuruk on Mario Kart’s three hardest courses. Even when Kuruk sat beside her and Trudge tried to tackle him over the back of the couch. Happy with her victory and at the sight of Ushar and Trudge gagging down straight everclear, she released them to fight over endless rounds of COD.

Her and AP quietly pass the last joint back and forth, her eyes growing hazy as she practices blowing smoke rings into the air.

“God you fuckers are rank.”

Rey grips tightly the mostly gone Captain’s bottle in her hand at the unrecognizable voice. People stopped by the loft constantly, but it was always someone she knew. She was halfway to smashing her bottle and brandishing it as a weapon when the guys broke into a flurry of motion, leaping over the couch and flying at the voice as they howled. Rey jumps in the opposite way, watching as the stranger was set upon by the guys. It took a moment for Rey to realize that they weren’t actually beating him up. She took a long swig of her drink.

Out of the male-bonding wrestling pit emerged one of the tallest, broadest men she had ever seen. He wore all black like the rest of them, but there was something different about him. Long black hair came to his shoulders and Rey fought off the sudden urge to run her fingers through it. His pale skin was covered in smatterings of moles and freckles and his long nose was hooked from a break that didn’t heal right. It wasn’t until his eyes caught hers that the world seemed to break away under her feet. She felt his intense brown eyes from across the room. They dropped down before traveling back up again. He met her with eyes with a smirk and Rey scowled back. Something flashed across his face, too quick for Rey to tell what it was. Confusion, maybe?

Kuruk caught him staring at her and puffed out his chest in some sort of testosterone filled dominance display. The stranger's eyes didn’t leave her. Rey did the only thing she could think of to win whatever battle she was having with this asshole and downed the rest of the Captain's bottle without breaking eye contact. The corner of his lip tweaked up.

Kuruk cleared his throat. “Kylo - Rey. Rey - Kylo.”

#reylo fanfic #rey x ben #kylo x rey #reylo au #ben solo deserved better #reylo fiction #reylo fanfiction

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