#need to remind myself that mike still has did here

[nocofamilyau]

can we see how the family reacts to each of mikes alters.?? i think itd be cool ^_^

all of these are quite vague but it gives you a good idea of how everyone sees each alter

[watchmenanon]

THE ‘STRANGER THINGS’ BOYS ARE OUR ‘NYLON GUYS’ SEPTEMBER 2017 COVER STARS

If anyone understands the sudden shift from “not fitting in” to “one-million-plus followers,” it’s these guys.

The following feature appears in the September 2017 issue of NYLON Guys.

Finn Wolfhard just couldn’t resist. Despite needing to be camera-ready for his NYLON photo shoot, the 14-year-old star of Stranger Things decided to suck on a blue Warhead anyway, and now he’s paying the price. “All these sets have candy on them, and I can’t help myself. It was a mistake,” he admits, sheepishly trying to scrub the cerulean stain from his tongue with a miniature toothbrush. To his right, Gaten Matarazzo wears a gray T-shirt that reads, uh oh! did my sarcasm hurt your feelings?, a slogan worthy of Dustin Henderson, the lovable wisecracker he plays opposite Wolfhard on the hit Netflix show. Matarazzo, also 14, is getting his trademark tangle of curls straightened, much to the delight of Noah Schnapp, who, at 12, is the youngest in this group of breakout stars that has helped make Stranger Things the most obsessed-over show in Netflix’s boundless roster of original series. Missing is Caleb McLaughlin, the energetic 15-year-old who plays Lucas Sinclair, but he’s on his way over in a black car, having just arrived from Los Angeles, fresh off an appearance at the BET Awards.

It’s the first time the boys have been together in several weeks, and none of them can pinpoint exactly when they were last in the same room. Ever since Stranger Things became a cultural phenomenon last summer, they’ve been swept up in a whirlwind of red carpets, talk shows, and fan conventions. And as the premiere of the sci-fi and horror fantasia’s top-secret second season nears, this summer has been overtaken by a flurry of promotional duties. Next week, while most kids their age are cooling off in pools or testing out the latest in roller coaster technology, Matarazzo and McLaughlin will be at Denver Comic Con, signing autographs and posing for selfies with wide-eyed fans. A few weeks after that, all four will find themselves inside the hallowed Hall H at San Diego Comic-Con, where they’ll premiere the thrilling trailer for Season 2 to rapturous applause.

But on this day, even though they’re technically at work, the boys still find time to goof off. They are, after all, best friends—like brothers, even, they say—and there’s a lot of catching up to do, memes to be shared, and jokes to be cracked. “We used to call Noah ‘Señor Biebs,’” Matarazzo offers at one point, due to Schnapp’s Season 1 bowl cut and its resemblance to the former haircut of a certain Canadian pop star. “He hates it!” he says, just before he sticks his finger into Schnapp’s ear (playfully, of course).

Inside the bright and breezy photo studio on Manhattan’s West Side, publicists abound, but because these budding stars are still minors, there are also parents. It’s an unusual sight, and a reminder that despite having very grown-up jobs, they’re still not old enough to drive. Wolfhard, the Vancouver native who plays Mike Wheeler, is here with his father, as is Matarazzo, who hails from Little Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey. Schnapp and his parents came in from Westchester County, north of the city. When McLaughlin, who grew up in Carmel, New York, finally arrives lugging a suitcase that’s almost as big as he is, he’s accompanied by his father, a burly man in an Atlanta Braves cap who goes around the room with his son hugging the other parents, a reminder of how tight the makeshift family has become since this odyssey began more than two years ago.

Stranger Things premiered as an underdog. Its creators, the twin brothers Matt and Ross Duffer, were unproven talents who had previously written for the Fox sci-fi series Wayward Pines. Except for Winona Ryder’s comeback as a grieving mother searching for her missing son, the cast was composed largely of unknowns and newcomers. But thanks to its double dose of supernatural intrigue and a nostalgic ’80s-tinged glow, along with a miraculous performance by a young British actress with a shaved head, Stranger Things quickly commandeered the pop-culture conversation in a way that few shows have done. In July, the show received a staggering 18 Emmy nominations, including Outstanding Drama Series.

Created by the Duffers in the spirit of the Amblin-era entertainments they were raised on, the eight-episode first season is set in 1983 in Hawkins, Indiana, and unravels the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Will Byers, played by Schnapp, who vanishes in the first episode after an encounter with the show’s resident boogeyman, the otherworldly creature known as the Demogorgon. As Will’s three misfit best friends—Mike, Lucas, and Dustin—embark on a quest to find him, they uncover an alternate dimension they dub The Upside Down, and a sinister government conspiracy that may be responsible for opening it. They also befriend Eleven, the feral girl with telekinetic powers embodied iconically by 13-year-old Millie Bobby Brown.

Stranger Things began filming its second season under very different circumstances than the first. What once felt like a scrappy production free of scrutiny from outside sources suddenly had the mood and atmosphere of a major Hollywood blockbuster. “Netflix knew it would be a good show,” McLaughlin says, “but they didn’t realize how big it would be and that the whole world was going to freak out about it.” Because of that intense interest from both the network and the public, the set suddenly had a noticeable security presence shielding it from nosy onlookers and paparazzi, while network executives showed up to make sure their prized racehorse was galloping along. Suddenly, there were expectations. “We raised the bar pretty high with the first season,” says Matarazzo. “There was a lot more tension on set, in that we really needed to make sure it was good.”

When Season 2 premieres on October 27, a year will have passed since Eleven sacrificed herself to defeat the faceless Demogorgon and save the boys, in the Season 1 finale. Trying to squeeze spoilers out of Wolfhard, McLaughlin, Schnapp, and Matarazzo is useless. Extensive media training, including detailed notes on what they can and can’t discuss, have transformed them into a rare breed: teenagers who can keep a secret. What they can say: Season 2 is bigger, darker, and scarier. There’s also a new character in town, played by Sadie Sink. (According to the Duffers, Millie Bobby Brown was “relieved” to have another girl on set.) “She’s a skater, sort of a punk girl, and she slowly becomes part of the group,” says Wolfhard, who also says his character will be depressed and “a loner” in the wake of Eleven’s disappearance. What they can’t say: pretty much everything else. But it’s not just scoop-hungry journalists who harass them for info. “Whenever you get recognized by fans, most of the time they ask you if you’ve got any spoilers for Season 2, and I’m like, ‘No, none, not at all,’” says Matarazzo. “It’s definitely kind of stressful.”

One of the biggest changes for the new season is the expansion of Schnapp’s screen time. Because his character spends much of the first season trapped in an alternate dimension, Schnapp spent a good deal of time at home in New York while everyone else filmed in Atlanta. “Last year I would drive up to the studio and everyone would be like, ‘Hey, Noah, we’ve missed you! How’ve you been?’” says Schnapp. “This year was a lot easier because last year, I’d have to go in and out of school, and that was hard. This year I could focus.”

Although he’s rescued from The Upside Down, we last saw Schnapp removing a slithery creature from his mouth, a telltale sign that not all is well with Will Byers. For Schnapp, whose character mostly communicated through Christmas lights in Season 1, the new episodes meant new challenges as an actor. “Shawn Levy, one of our directors, was telling me, ‘Noah, you have something really big this season. We have a lot in store for you, and you should get really excited,’” he says. Schnapp felt the added pressure, and would sometimes text his TV mom, Ryder, for extra help with particularly emotional scenes. “We knew we needed a strong actor in case the series moved forward into a second season, because we knew he was going to be a centerpiece,” says Matt Duffer. “We needed not just a good actor, but a really, really good actor.” Schnapp rose to the occasion, according to the Duffers. “Shawn [Levy] was like, ‘We’ve had a Ferrari sitting in the garage all of Season 1, and now the fucking garage doors are open.’”

The Duffers knew that casting child actors, who have a tendency to favor exaggerated performances over naturalistic ones, would make or break their show. “There’s really nothing worse than a bad child performance,” Ross Duffer says. “You couldn’t have any weaknesses, or the eight hours would be excruciating.” Along with their casting director, the Duffers saw what they estimate to be 900 kids, an undertaking they say was easier than it sounds because they could tell within the first few minutes if the actor had what they needed. “You’re looking for something authentic, and most kids don’t have it,” says Ross. “There are the ones that are obviously well-trained, but they feel too Disney, like they’re winking at the camera.” What the Duffers found with their four young male stars were kids who seemed like actual kids.

Matarazzo was the first one cast, his audition so impressive that he found out he got the part on the way back from the airport. “We didn’t really even know who the Dustin character was until we found Gaten,” says Matt Duffer. “He was sort of a generic nerd with glasses. He was a stereotype.” Matarazzo, whose sense of humor inspired the Duffers to transform Dustin into the show’s primary source of comic relief, has grown up with a condition known as cleidocranial dysplasia, which stunts the development of bones and teeth. “We wanted to make a show about outsiders, about kids who didn’t fit in and who were bullied and made fun of,” says Matt. “Gaten was really able to tap into all of that.”

McLaughlin and Matarazzo had known each other from their days as stars in two of Broadway’s biggest shows. Matarazzo portrayed Gavroche in Les Misérables, and McLaughlin played Simba in The Lion King. They’d often see each other in a park frequented by “Broadway kids,” as Matarazzo calls them. “When I found out Caleb had gotten Lucas I was like, ‘Caleb? Where do I know that name from?’” he recalls. Wolfhard and Schnapp established an early connection, too—sort of. “He doesn’t remember me, but I remember him,” Wolfhard says. “Because I asked him what other projects he had done, and he said, ‘I was the voice of Charlie Brown in The Peanuts Movie.’ I was like, ‘What?! You’re Charlie Brown?’ I was so pysched about that.”

Although they had all crossed paths during the audition process, usually around the hotel pool or at chemistry reads, it wasn’t until they arrived in Atlanta to begin production that all four boys, along with Millie Bobby Brown, found themselves together in the same room for the first time. If there was a first-day-of-school feel, it made sense: They met in a classroom, which is where the young cast of Stranger Things still spend most of their time when they’re not filming. That grueling schedule means the only opportunities they get to really mess around are between takes, and sometimes during them. “We have laughing problems,” says McLaughlin. Matt Duffer elaborates: “We definitely have an issue, where we can’t get through a take without someone busting up. They’re always making each other crack up—the number of takes ruined by laughter is in the hundreds.”

Schnapp was at summer camp when Stranger Things dropped on Netflix. He wasn’t allowed to have his phone, but shortly after the series premiered, one of his counselors happened to check his Instagram account—80,000 followers. The next day it was 85,000. “I was like, ‘Wait, what’s going on?’ I think I was at one follower before that,” Schnapp says. Wolfhard also remembers that odd rush of watching his followers skyrocket and realizing his life was changing right in front of his eyes. McLaughlin felt his anonymity evaporate the first time he was recognized. “In L.A., this kid came up to me and was like, ‘Hey, are you Caleb Reginald McLaughlin?’” he says. “And I’m like, ‘What? You know my middle name? That’s nuts.’” 

The connection between the boys is strengthened by the surreal turn their lives have taken, circumstances that most kids their age can’t relate to. When Matarazzo, McLaughlin, and Wolfhard met Barack Obama last October, as guests of the White House’s South by South Lawn festival, the former president, who’s a fan of the show, told them he especially enjoyed their on-screen camaraderie. That bond exists offscreen, too, and has only gotten stronger with every award show and panel. “They really are my best friends,” Matarazzo says. “We can relate to each other a lot more than other people can. People try to understand everything that goes on, but they can’t unless they’ve been there.”

“I don’t think any of the kids would say that our friendship is similar to the friendships they have back home, because it’s not,” says Wolfhard. “No kid has ever really had an experience that I’m experiencing right now—it’s a unique sort of friendship.”

Wolfhard is careful not to bring his work home with him. “If you go home and all you talk about is acting, then you’re a douchebag,” he says. “Your friends don’t want to hear about your professional life, they just want to mess around.” Plus, when you’re 14 years old, talking about work is never cool, even if it involves facing off against a faceless interdimensional demon. The boys are also learning that with a great number of Instagram followers comes great responsibility. “We have to be more cautious with what we say on social media and in public,” says McLaughlin, who was shocked to lose followers after he openly rooted for the Golden State Warriors during the NBA playoffs.

While Netflix has yet to make an official announcement, a third season of Stranger Things is a given, meaning the boys are all but guaranteed to live out their teenage years on one of the most popular shows on television. The Duffers, then, will have to follow in the footsteps of long-running properties like Game of Thrones and the Harry Potter franchise in making sure their child actors don’t grow up faster than their characters. “It’s terrifying,” Matt Duffer says. “I shouldn’t even be highlighting this, but if you watch Season 2, they’ve grown from Episode 1 to Episode 9. I’m terrified one of them is going to have a major growth spurt basically in the middle of shooting. But as long as they’re growing outside of the course of our shooting, I’m not too worried about it, because we just have to build it into our story. As much as you would like to keep some of it more continuous, every time we take a break between seasons, we have to make a year time jump at least.”

All four actors say that they want to remain in show business into adulthood. Wolfhard, who obsessively studies the filmmaking process while on set—he’ll star in the remake of Stephen King’s It, in theaters this month—is eyeing a multihyphenate career as a director, actor, and musician. Back at the photo shoot, Matarazzo and Schnapp gather around his iPhone to watch a video Wolfhard co-directed for a friend’s band, Spendtime Palace. Earlier this year, McLaughlin, who is a trained dancer, played a young Ricky Bell on the BET miniseries The New Edition Story, an experience he describes as “historic.” Matarazzo wants to continue acting, but not forever, and is keeping an open mind about other aspects of the industry. Schnapp, who took his first acting class at the age of six, describes winning the Screen Actors Guild Award for Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Drama Series as one of the greatest moments of his life, and is doing exactly what he wants. (The boys, who describe the awards as “very heavy,” keep them in their bedrooms, except for Matarazzo, who has been meaning to retrieve his from his grandparents’ house. )

“They all love what they’re doing,” says Matt Duffer. “They love coming to set, they love working, they love acting. In terms of the fame thing, it’s a side effect that I think some of them are more into than others. You’re worried about, ‘What if they realize this isn’t their true passion?’ They’re so young. But this year those fears went away. They’re all very committed to this. That’s the important thing, that they enjoy what they’re doing. And that they’re passionate about it.”

[andiwriteordie]

tell me everything about will's airbending <3

a dare is a dare

look i really really REALLY need to go back through and like organize this into some giant masterdoc or something (my other wips and projects are over here looking at me like... bitch pls), because i can't remember what i've talked about with will and his airbending LOL.

so, i apologize if i'm repeating myself!

will misses his airbending.

i think i'm noticing a theme with literally all the party members, and it's that so much of their identity and their joy in life comes from their bending, and a lot of what happens in this little world challenges that/takes it away. (something something something about bending kinda being what dnd represents in the stranger things canon—that loss of childhood and innocence and the difficult journey to reclaim all of that and break free from the cycle of trauma and abuse).

so, in the aftermath of his kidnapping, will's airbending isn't gone. but it's... not the same. will isn't the same, and he can't even pretend like he is. not when everyone around him treats him differently (everyone but mike, that is). everyone handles him with kid gloves. he has to go to the doctor—some airbender who is nice on the surface level but doesn't really seem to care about what will wants—a couple times a week for breathing treatments, his tattoos are scarred and ugly now as a result of what happened, and it feels like every time will closes his eyes, he's reliving those terrifying moments surrounding his near death experience. the encounter with that airbender ruined will's ability to separate his own bending from his trauma.

and will misses his airbending.

because unlike his brother, will's airbending has always been a source of joy for him. jonathan made sure of that, and jonathan protected will from the brunt of lonnie's abuse. even if jonathan didn't enjoy his bending, he still did everything he possibly could to make sure will loved his own airbending. so, as a kid, growing up, airbending has always been one of will's most favorite parts about himself. he's pretty good at it too, and he can make his friends laugh and smile when he takes them to go airgliding (dustin and lucas both scream like little girls, but they still love it; and mike always begs will to take him), or when he shows them new tricks he's been working on, or when they all hang out with poki the bison who all of them are determined to help fly. (it doesn't work, but that's okay. will loves poki anyways!) airbending has been will's escape—from his dad's anger, from the bullies at school, and from everything else that was difficult growing up.

and then, all of that got taken away from will.

he can't airbend anymore without gasping and feeling like somebody is stopping him from breathing. he can't look at himself in the mirror without remembering those moments when his body did something instinctual and terrifying and so painful in an attempt to save itself. physically, he can hardly breathe on his own anymore, and at first, dr. owens agrees that his lungs are weaker and just need some help, but eventually, owens begins to remind him that this is in his head. it's no longer the physical. it's all in will's head now.

which is just miserable. because how can that make any sense? obviously, will misses his bending. he misses his ability to breathe well and to stop associating everything with how this man hurt him. he misses the person he used to be. he feels so different now—different and broken and so unlike himself. so, in the aftermath of his kidnapping, will doesn't airbend. he can't bring himself to. he stays close to the earth, like there's some imaginary shackle preventing him from taking flight. maybe it is all in his head. and maybe he's doing this to himself.

[smoosnoom]

was this chapter happier? yes. did I cry anyway? no shit.

“It’s deserved, even, all this burning, if he were to be finally honest with himself, and he doesn’t flinch when the fiery water hits his face.” well, i hope it’s not a projection this time cause mike in this chapter reminds me of.. myself during my depressive episode🧍🏻‍♀️it’s my turn to self-project

“I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t.” i don’t think i said it last time but bc see mikes pov i kinda forget that will canonically is/was in love with mike. and he was trying to push his feelings away during this 4 years. maybe even longer.

“Max steps forward to violently punch Mike in the arm” love that max didn’t hug him. not her style at all

““Seize the day,” Dustin claims, and opens the door, the winter air creeping in.” did dustin become fan if dps or he just learn latin phrases for fun?

“All he has is a bare basement and a sinking feeling in his stomach. He feels vaguely sick.” just stopped to say it’s beautiful

“It stings when he confesses, “I miss you.”” well that was the first time i crying reading this chapter

“When Will returns, he has a styrofoam cup in his hands. “Here.”” he’s clearly hurt but that shows that he still cares and will care about mike no matter what. idk does it make sense?

“Will is almost quieter when he says, “I missed you, too.”” and that where i cried for the second time. i have a thing for “i miss u” ig

“There is, unfortunately, no Steve Harrington behind the counter to sneak them into the movies” i hope steve got real adult job

“Staying in Hawkins for a little before I figured out where I want to go next sounded pretty nice” oh i see where it’s coming

“Loved, he thinks, loved, appreciated, wished –“ “wished” hits HARD

““Of course, I did,” Mike says, not having checked behind the television. “On an unrelated note, I’ll be right back.”” this one made me giggle. but more cause of the thought that they’re coming back to their little bubble, starting to feel comfortable enough to joke around. and it’s happening naturally and pretty fast

““It’s so different down here,” Lucas notes” ok, somehow ive been waiting to tell my thoughts about basement till this moment. i.. don’t think empty walls r bad thing. i think it’s like the omen of the new beginnings? yeah, my old basement was cool but it’s time to make new memories. happier. without the burden of the past. it’s like rediscovering the place u used to visit exclusively with the people u don’t talk now.

““I enlightened him!” Dustin claims, sitting opposite of her, and El snorts beside Mike.” well dustin stays the party member with the best taste 😀

one last thing i wanted to say about this chapter is that ur style has changed. diffidently in a good way. i’ve mentioned one sentence that i like but tbh.. i could choose any of them and that would be true. and i had to check vocabulary more often

oh no 😭 IM SORRY FOR MAKING U CRY ALYA hopefully the next one it is Tears of Joy 🫶🫶

LMAOO if it helps . we can both self project . mom says it's my turn with the self projection

omg that is a Fantastic point bc mike doesn't know !!! at all !!!!!! i tried to make wills frustration obvious for u know . dramatic irony but also that it makes sense for mike even tho he doesn't know the full length of it all 🫡 im so happy u noticed omg

YEYY3A OMG i am so glad u think so too 😭 i rly couldn't write max hugging him it felt Wrong

HELNGPOY dustin dps fan in this au 🫶 it has no relevancy but idc !

thank u alya ☹️ ily

NOOO no more tears . writing only Happy from now on (🤞 no promises ...)

it does make sense !!!!! it does !!!!!!!!!!!!! they're both hurt but they also Care so much !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

characters admitting they miss each other no matter how much it hurts . it will always get to me too </3

HELEP yes steve and robin rooming together and attending to their Adult Jobs

alya i need u to shut down ur big brain so the final chapter IS A SURPRISE OK

wished !!!!! u get it !!!!!!!!!!

YAYYYYY im so glad u thought it was natural, i was kind of second guessing myself bc it felt like Maybe it's too quick for them to joke again . but whenever i meet up with friends i haven't seen in months or even years it is always so easy to slip back to who we used to be, you know ?

"it's like rediscovering" alya u absolute angel . my graham cracker . my vanilla latte . u get it U Get It oh my god it's alll about change !!!! and it doesn't always have to be bad !!!!!!!!!!

U LIKE PINEAPPLE ON PIZZA ????? FIRST THE FRIES AND MILSKSGKES 😭😭 ALYA WHY

im so flattered u think so !!!! i think i definitely took a different tone to this fic and im rly happy u noticed :] it means the world to me and im always so happy whenever u drop by my askbox with a Huge commentary like this 🫶 it means the world to me ive reread this like . nine times !!!!!!

[briamichellewrites]

51

Jason was thrown into therapy by Muto. He and his mother wanted to know what was going on inside his head. If it was mental illness, they would learn how to help him. He was initially hesitant about talking to a stranger. Muto gave him an ultimatum. If he wanted to continue living with him and his mother, he would have to accept help. His financial situation was tight and he couldn’t afford to live by himself. He would have to pay legal fees with the divorce.

Bria already filed. The court was requesting he respond to the request. When he was served papers, they went through them together. He was not contesting anything. Did he want alimony or spousal support? No. He didn’t want any money from her. Once they filled out the paperwork, he sent it back with a check. Mike got in contact with him to see how he was doing.

He was having regrets. Mike reminded him that he made his bed. Now, he had to deal with the consequences. He would never be truly happy or satisfied if he continually made the wrong decisions. What about Bria? She would pick herself up and continue her life. It might be with Brad, or it might be with someone else. Whoever she chose, he would treat her like the woman she was. He would have to watch her be happy. His tone was stern, as he scolded his little brother.

“What about you and Dave?”

“Dave pushed me into working on myself and my sobriety. He told me that I needed to learn how to love myself first. The reason why I’m being so hard on you is because I know that my little brother is in there somewhere and hopefully, he’s still listening to me.”

When he returned home, Bria was asleep on the couch. Micha and Henry were keeping watch over her. He found it odd since it was one o’clock in the afternoon and she wasn’t known for taking naps. The only time he ever saw her nap was when she returned home from the hospital. Brad came out and over to him. He wanted to talk to him, so they went into the studio. Alarms were going off in his head. Why else would he pull him aside to talk privately?

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I brought you in here, so we don’t wake Bria up.”

“Is she okay?”

“Relatively speaking? Yes. She didn’t sleep well the night before. What did your brother say?”

“He’s having a pity party for himself. Our father has him going to therapy sessions. I’m not putting up with it. He made his bed and now, he has to sleep in it.”

“Is this normal behaviour for him?”

“No, not at all. He’s usually very levelheaded. His problem is flip-flopping. He has ideas in his head that he thinks he wants and he acts on them impulsively. Like getting married to Bria. That came from a very short sexual relationship they had. He all of a sudden decided he wanted to marry her. Then, he decided he wanted an open marriage. We want him to be truly happy.”

Did he have problems with addiction? He thought they mentioned something like that. Yes, he had a drug and alcohol problem. He started using drugs in high school. In college, he started drinking while discovering his sexuality. He went into rehab for his drinking. They had no idea he was using drugs until he broke down in tears. He confessed to Dave that he was a drug addict and needed help.

He brought Bria into his drug use. She had been sober for three years before she went back to using drugs. They never wanted them to get married because they were not ready. They fought against them. He had a feeling that she went along with what he wanted. Brad knew about her addiction because she was open about it. She wanted him to keep her accountable. He had a drug and alcohol problem when he was first starting in Hollywood. It wasn’t anything serious. He was just smoking too much weed.

His ex-wife got him help. When he saw what she and Jason were going through, he felt compassion for them. It was probably misguided, but he knew what it was like to go through a divorce. When he met Bria, he was going through a separation. He saw something special with her. Mike agreed. He had the honour of watching her grow up. She was a one-of-a-kind woman.

They heard knocking on the door. She apologised for interrupting.

“It’s not a problem. We’re just hanging out in here because we didn’t want to wake you up. How are you doing”, Brad asked.

“I’m decaffeinated. Other than that, a lot better.”

“What happened? You couldn’t sleep last night”, Mike asked.

“Yeah. It was just one of those nights where my brain couldn’t shut off. Dave told me where he was going, but I totally forgot.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see where he is. Are you hungry?”

She was, so they had her get dressed to get something to eat. As she did that, he texted Dave to see where he was. He reminded him he was at the gym with Chester.

Yeah, you told me that earlier. I forgot. Brad and I are taking Bria out for dinner because she hasn’t eaten yet. Do you want me to bring you back something? I don’t know where we’re going yet, but I bet I can find something you’ll like. – Mike

Yeah, I’ll eat whatever you bring home for lunch tomorrow. I’ll figure something out for tonight. Maybe I’ll get takeout. I’ll let you know what I decide. – Dave

The restaurant was fairly busy. They got a table inside. Brad loved the restaurant because of their no pictures policy. It was a wonderful break from the paparazzi. They ordered their drinks before looking at the menu. Brad happened to notice how beautiful she looked in the lights. How did he end up falling in love with a woman like her? She was one of the rare women who didn’t care about his fame. He could be vulnerable with her and she wouldn’t judge him.

He didn’t feel pushed off to the side with her. There were endless reasons why he was in love with her. He was going to introduce her to his family. He knew his parents were going to judge her for her young age and for being divorced. What they thought didn’t matter to him because he would stand up for her. They wouldn’t see what he saw.

Would they get married? Maybe. He wouldn’t rule it out. It just had to be the right time. At the moment, he was happy with where their relationship was. Maybe they could plan a vacation for just the two of them. His thoughts got away from him, as he responded to her tapping his arm. The waitress was waiting to take his food order. He laughed embarrassed before telling her what he wanted. Mike remembered when she had done that to him. It was a way of redirecting attention without being obvious.

“My mother used to do that with my father. He had a one-track mind sometimes and he would be so hyper-focused. She had to tap his arm to get his attention whenever they were with a group of people”, she said.

“It’s great because it’s subtle and doesn’t embarrass anyone”, Mike said.

“Did your father have ADHD”, Brad asked.

“He had late onset bipolar disorder. I believe he was screened for ADHD, but he was found not to have it. If I’m remembering correctly. His bipolar diagnosis was why I was evaluated for it. It took a few years before I was diagnosed.”

Ever since they died, she had a hard time talking about them. It was too painful for her. That was why she mentioned her father. Brad would have loved him. They would have had fun hanging out together. Maybe he would hire him for one of his movies. He believed he and Christina were watching their daughter from heaven. They had to be so proud of her because he was. He was proud of the woman she was becoming.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

[amazildoessomethingstupid]

Chapter 85: Total Recall

Well, now that we’ve had a good laugh and some great times, it’s time to get into the big stuff.  We’ve had our sweet fun chapters, but now it’s time we get serious as we get into Chapter 85: Total Recall. By far one of the most memorable chapters in BCB, with the second most impactful moment in recent memory!

Look we get one alright? I get one.  What was the most impactful moment you ask? Oh, that’s easy!

Why yes, I am proud of myself. Very much so, thank you for asking, your boos make it all the more worth it.  But seriously, Total Recall is an interesting chapter to revisit because going back to reread it’s allowed me to bring up and talk about some of the moments that got overshadowed by that one big moment and the little things that lead to it. One thing I want to point out though about the early part of this chapter though, is all the callbacks!

It straight up just pokes at the carnival chapter! Which I guess it has to since it’s another prom chapter, so it would naturally draw comparison to the previous prom chapter, but still it’s worth mentioning since BCB has this nasty habit of preferring to push aside things from Volume 1 that it doesn’t like.  With a common consensus at the time being, “NEW READERS SHOULD START FROM VOLUME 2! THAT’S THE BEST WAY TO READ BCB!” And while yes, we did also get nods to past gags during the Stacy chapter but that was a commissioned chapter with a character that hadn’t been relevant SINCE Volume 1. But here it’s more in your face and lingers on that a lot, with whole pages used to remind you of what happened, and how far Paulo has come in his romantic journey.  But it’s not just Paulo though, as that jab at the carnival wasn’t just a one-off! It actually sets up THIS scene:

Yeah! The awkward talk between Daisy and Augustus, that reaffirms his character and shows that the AU of Love My Way was correct in that he was just intending for that moment to be nothing more than a kiss, but it was still over the line?  The scene where Daisy repells Augustus, but tells him that he needs help? THAT WAS IN THIS CHAPTER! I COMPLETELY FORGOT! I bet you did too, didn’t you?  But as for the actual chapter, Paulo goes to the junior prom and we get to spend time with all of them!  Of course, Rachel, but also Jess, Matt and Jordan who is…

Going through his own character arc it seems.  And I love it! It harkens to a critique I had with the comic at the time, and even now in that it shows that there is life outside of the main characters’ plotlines!  While I’ve complained and maintain that Jordan’s no-good-very-bad-inconsequential love square is fucking POINTLESS; in here it helps flesh out the world a bit.  Much like the Stacy chapter, it shows that these side-characters we may not care about have lives of their own, their own little drama arcs and romantic interests, it’s nice! Although it’s weird to compare him to Mi- wait a second…

oh ha. Ha. Very funny Taeshi- IS THAT WHY ROXY GETS SHOVED ASIDE AND CAST AWAY LIKE SHE NEVER EXISTED? IS THAT MEANT TO BE LIKE HOW MIKE TREATED LUCY? *hissss* positivity. Positivity… BUT WE WERE ROBBED! Everyone gushes over how adorable the twink team is...

BUT WE HAD THIS CUTIE PATOOTIE WAIFU BAIT RIGHT HERE! SHE HAD A FUCKING NAME! SHE HAD POTENTIAL! WE WERE RRRRROOOOBBBBBEEEED! Ahhh oh well.  The girls hang back as the boys drive home, and we are treated to an actually nice bit where Jordan sympathizes with Paulo a bit, and it’s sweet before they all get Charlie St. Cloud’d an-… OH MY GOD I GET TO USE THIS PHRASE! OH MY GOD GET IN THE CAR, WE GOTTA GO RIGHT NOW! I GOTTA SHOW YOU SOMETHING!

So “Getting Charlie St. Cloud’d” is a term that I and only I ever use.  If you find another person using that term, that is me do not reveal yourself until the time is right.  I have been waiting YEARS to use the term, because it perfectly describes a common trope in media.  The phrase comes from the movie Charlie St. Cloud. Have you ever seen Charlie St. Cloud?  No! Of course you haven’t, it’s a stupid boring fucking movie from 2010 that is only known for two things.  One being that it starred Zach Efron hot off the heels of High School Musical in a dumb melodrama about a guy talking to his little ghost brother, but the other was that in the trailer for the movie it prominently featured the trope where two characters are having a benign conversation where out of fucking now-

And now the cursed knowledge of the phrase, “Getting Charlie St. Clouded” is in your brain tooooo.  But jokes aside, we really should talk about this scene because it does something very very well.  Pacing.  And I know, I joke and poke and get angry at the overuse of splash pages in recent chapters.  Going so far as making a drinking game out of Eternal Flame for how many there were in that but in Total Recall? I’m going to tell you to do something that I would never tell you to do under any other circumstance because this is actually important.  I want you, to stop right now.  And go to the official Bittersweet Candy Bowl website- NOW DON’T CLICK ANYTHING YET, DO NOT LOOK AT THE FRONT PAGE! Okay, DON’T read the comic.  Glance at the pretty colors, but do not even read the words. I’m going to guide you through this, okay? this next part may be tricky but I need to be particular about this.  Some people reading this may not have actually read BCB, so we have to be VERY delicate, and VERY particular about this.  This is a live bomb we are handling and I do not want to be responsible for any of you who have not been caught in this hellhole, to fall for it now! So, keep your eyes firmly at the top of your screen.  Where it says Bittersweet Candy Bowl, right underneath there are going to be a few words.  You are going to click the word “Archive”, now this is very important there are going to be a list of chapters DO NOT CLICK ANY OF THEM YET! You are going to count the numbers and scroll down the list until you find number 85. Total Recall.  If you see a banner that says “Volume Six” you have scrolled too far! Calmly but firmly scroll a  little further up and you should see Chapter 85.  Now you will notice that under that chapter’s description there are a few titled links.  You are going to click the link that says “Blinding Light” it should take you to page 25 of 42.  Click on that comic page, and you will see what makes this scene with all its splash pages… blows every other excuse for “pacing splash pages” out of the water.  It is fantastic.  It’s minimal, and it’s Taeshi at her most brilliant.  It’s dramatic pacing in a webcomic done right. It’s Taeshi utilizing her artistic talent to perfectly set a scene.  The stark contrast of pages filled with word bubbles to a hard splash page of white ruggedly brushed to fade into black.  The realistic watercolors working in perfect comparison to the cartoonish artstyle we had been accustomed to in Volume 5. Fading softly into white again to reintroduce us to the cartoonish style in a bouquet of flowers. The use of longer vertical pages to turn what could’ve been three splash pages of nothing into only two pages! It doesn’t waste your time, it perfectly itself and puts you into the place of Paulo’s waning consciousness.  And we see the light at the end of the tunnel.

it’s SO good! There’s a reason it’s the one thing people remember from The Paulo Show.  The way this scene is handled, perfectly exemplifies what Taeshi is capable of.  This was what made me realize that Taeshi wasn’t good.  She was great.  She was an artist, and she is able to do fantastic work.  Even when the characters look like munchkins, she could turn it serious and make you shut up without missing a beat. I mean think about it.  Paulo just got Charlie St. Cloud’d one of the oldest tricks in the book, we get baited with Lucy coming back when we know that wasn’t happening.  It was bait to make us think Lucy was there to see Paulo when even back then I knew that it wasn’t just for him. It was because her brother was in the car too when it got wrecked, and so her family probably insisted she come see him. But none of that mattered. Because this scene was fucking PERFECT.

AND THE AFTER CARE IS GOOD TOO! We get everyone showing up to Paulo’s bedside and showing that they care, it’s filled with some well-needed comic relief that much like the rest of The Paulo Show, is really fun and sweet.

 And it’s capped off by a talk with Tess explaining how like Paulo she too has progressed and moved on from who she was in that last prom chapter. She shows that she’s in a better place now, and is able to move on.  Yeah, it’s kinda forced and it’s blatant exposition to explain her lack of presence in the last two volumes but… It doesn’t matter.

10/10

It was perfect

[nineliabilityrisk]

⭐

[ send a " ⭐ " and i will list muses i would be interested in throwing at yours ]

[ asked by @muutos ]

this one took a while to get to bc i realized how much i wanted birdie to interact with some of ur muses and then got distracted with trying to set up her blog and stuff but im here to answer this now hopefully . my brain is still all over the place please excuse me

[formatting is "your muse - my muse(s) i would like to see with them"]

vanessa - sb verse mikey :] torment this little shit. because the concept of these two interacting is so fucking hilarious im so happy the movie brought it up and this way it doesnt even have to be movieverse. also i NEED her and birdie to interact so so so bad im trying so hard to finish up birdies sideblog its taking forever but i wanted the chance to give them a lil separate space to themselves. uh who else. i have glambun and cassie of course, she can have fun with them, and joshton also has a sb verse!! i know i never talk about him but id love love love to introduce him with vanessa or one of ur other muses

henry emily - cmon. i love your henry so much id willingly throw literally ANY of my muses at him i <3 him. ive already spent eons talking abt how much i love the potential dynamic between him and michael because i DO, so so so much. also just like i said to nic, he can interact with literally any of my animatronics whenever. i NEED interactions with him and lefty there is something so personal about those two. and of course ciarán goes without saying. your henry already gave him too much attention (like. literally one [1] positive sentence so far) and hes already hooked. good luck getting rid of that fucker. hes never letting go. sorry you shouldve known better than to be sweet with him (/lh)

mangle - im ngl i would love to have interactions with them and one of my withered animatronics. or jeremy, yknow,,, before Shit Goes Bad. could be fun. joshton Also has a verse where he works in the fnaf 2 location because i just kinda stick him wherever he would fit so if you wanna use it to traumatize the poor little minimum wage worker go right ahead i think itd be real funny

freddy fazbear - b..bonnie... thats it just bonnie i want the classic duo back i dont care what era. also if you want him to torment mike or josh theyre always up for it, as has been mentioned multiple times

roxanne wolf + glamrock freddy - lumping them together because theyd be interacting with about the same characters. same list as vanessa!!! its so funny because i wasnt interested in sb at ALL before ruin / interacting with you and ur little corner of the rpc and now im. fucken entangled in it. help.

vincent demarco - weve talked abt my interest in him before but like i said every time you rb some musings about him or something i go a little insane. also did you know his birthday is literally one day before mine i just realized it when i checked his bio page. anyway i really wanna toss like. ciar or josh or someone at him at some point just to see what would happen. he just intrigues me i just wanna see whats goin on in that brain of his idk idk

these arent really specific muse matchups but. every time i see you play like. stu or gwen or ar'alani i lose my mind a little and get reminded of all the muses from their medias i could pick up but i have to stop myself bc thats so much WORK. the star wars fixation would be enough to overpower it and make me find someone to interact with ar'alani if it werent for the fact that i havent managed to get my hands on the thrawn books yet and ive never watched star trek so i dont know anything about your interpretation and it makes me so so so upset. anyway this is an open offer (that may not make sense if you havent watched star wars rebels) but if you would like i would pick up ezra bridger to interact with her in a HEARTBEAT. it wouldnt matter how fucking clueless i am because hes clueless as shit too. i am so so sorry if this sounds overbearing or something i do NOT mean for it to be i have just been wanting to play these star wars muses for YEARS now. the star wars community is just so much more terrifying than this little group here. so the fact that someone that i know and trust and have written with before has even Somewhat of a star wars muse has. driven me a little bit insane. (/pos) this is all /nf of course im just. yeah 👍 this probably makes no fucking sense im sorry i am unwell about star wars

[survey--s]

571.

Do you own anything from Victoria's Secret "Pink" line? Do you really think the clothes are worth the price? Nope. I’m not even sure if Victoria’s Secret exists here lol. I guess there are probably a few shops in London or whatever.

What does your last incoming text say, who was it from, and how do you feel about that person? From Mike asking where the kitten’s food was. He’s my husband and I love him, though he does ask silly questions lol.

Did you have a New Year's kiss? No, I was asleep at midnight ha.

Are there any words that you cannot pronounce or that you pronounce incorrectly? Nothing is coming to mind right now.

After a long day at work or of doing something physical what tends to hurt more? Your back or your feet? My back, for sure. I have chronic back pain anyway though.

Do you have a smart phone? If so, what's your favorite app? Sure. I use Reddit, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and Mumsnet the most, plus Spotify and a few games too.

Who would you say is the overall best person you know, and why? My husband. Because he picked me and continues to pick me.

If you had to choose between being a Nurse or an English teacher which would you choose and why? An English teacher - I’d hate to be a nurse - I’m really not very good with bodily fluids and bad smells lol.

Do you have a specific gas station you usually go to? Or do you stop wherever? Yeah, the one at the end of our road lol. I mean, I’ll go to other places if I need to but that one’s the most convenient.

How much older than you was the oldest person you have dated/had a relationship with? Chris was eight years older than me.

Is anything stressing you out at the moment? Nah, I’m feeling pretty chilled out right now. 

What is your opinion on dating someone who already had a child/children from a previous relationship? Been there, done that, would never do it again.

Have you ever actually found a mascara that makes a huge difference for your lashes? Sure, most of them seem to do the job.

Would you rather have one or two great facial features that stand out, or have just an overall pretty face but have no special features? An overall pretty face, I think. 

Do you have any plans for Valentine's Day? Did you do anything last Valentine's Day? It’s only July lol. We didn’t do anything last year, we never do.

Do you check your horoscope daily? If so, did you relate to your horoscope at all today? No.

When you need to remember something, how do you usually go about doing so? I put a reminder in my phone.

Do you think you're a confident person? In your opinion what makes someone "confident" anyways? I think I have an average amount of confidence? I mean, I’m happy to go places alone and do things alone, at least.

How would you describe someone that is your type of guy/girl? I really don’t have a type.

Do you read books often? What is your all time favorite book and author? I don’t really read much anymore, but my favourite author is probably Neil Gaiman. Neverwhere is definitely my favourite book of his but I also like Alice in Wonderland and The Night Circus. I love fantasy type stuff that’s also kind of based in reality.

Have you recently accomplished anything that you are proud of yourself for? Yes! Setting up my own successful business, and I’m also proud of myself for learning to ride horses even though I fell off in a lesson and it really knocked my confidence.

Are you still friends with any of your exes? Do you still communicate with any of them at all? I wouldn’t say we were friends but I have a few of them on my Facebook.

What is your opinion on people that shop at Sephora for makeup as opposed to buying makeup from the drugstore? I really don’t care - people can spend their money on whatever they want.

When you enter a store like Target or Walmart where is the first section you go? It depends - normally I just start at the entrance and work round unless there’s something specific I’ve gone in for.

Are you the type of person to fight for someone or walk away? It depends on the situation, but normally I’ll fight before walking away.

Is marijuana legal for "recreational use" where you live? Also what is your opinion on the recent legalization of marijuana in certain states? Nope. I don’t really agree with it being legalised but I do think it should probably be decriminalised.

Do you live on your own or with your parents/a roommate? Do you think you'd like to live alone? I live with my husband, three cats and a dog. If Mike died I think I’d prefer to live alone rather than with a roommate.

How often would you say you use Microsoft Word? Never.

What is the last online purchase you made? Some supplements for the dogs’ anal glands lol.

Do you usually have bad symptoms around "that time of the month"? Yeah, mood swings and spots beforehand, then pretty bad cramps for a couple of days - even to the point of vomiting. I also get diarrhoea for a few days lol. 

Is there anyone you have to see on a daily/weekly basis that you really dislike? Nope, thankfully not.

Is your hair thick or thin? Would you say it's easy to manage? It’s really fine and flyaway - it’s not very easy to manage, no. It’s curly but frizzy and really not very nice lol. I just tie it up mostly.

Have you ever had to deal with any type of long distance relationship, whether it be a romantic relationship or a friendship? Yes.

Are you procrastinating doing anything right now? No.

How do you feel about being called sweetie/dear/honey/etc.? I’m not really a fan.

Have you ever had a thing for/relationship with a coworker? How did it end? I met Chris through work but we didn’t get together until he left.

What type of deodorant do you use? Do you notice any difference between powders and gels? Just whatever is on offer at the supermarket. I only use spray stuff though, I find roll-ons really sticky and unpleasant.

What would you say is your worst habit? Squeezing spots.

Do you have a place you go to a lot that you may be considered "a regular" at? Yeah, our local ice-cream coffee place, I guess.

Do you ever read the articles posted on the home page of Xanga? Has there ever been one that has really stood out to you? I’m sure I have done, but none of them stick in my mind now.

What is the weather currently like where you live? Rainy. It’s due to be like this for pretty much the whole of the next week lol.

Is there anyone that you text on a regular basis that you do not have saved in your phone? If so, why don't you have their number saved? Nope.

Do you have any plans for Mardi Gras? We don’t have that here.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

tell me we'll never get used to it

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader; Eddie Munson/You

Summary: Sequel to "i can't carry it for you, but i can carry you," but this one can technically be read as a standalone.

Set a few weeks after the finale, you and Eddie are finally healed enough from your ordeals to have sex. You both get a little stoned on California weed, and then Eddie confesses to you that not only is he a virgin, he's also self-conscious of the scars the demo-bats gave him. So you seek to reassure him, remind him how much you love him, with both your words and your body.

Rating: E(xplicit). Minors DNI

Warnings: smoking/shotgunning weed, smut, virgin!eddie munson, loss of virginity, oral sex (f/m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, riding, scars, self-confidence issues

A/N: I started this fic with the intention of making something quick and smutty, and then it turned into... this. And this fic stems from my deep seated belief that Eddie Munson deserves to get really high and have really tender loving sex, and since the Duffers are cowards, I did it myself. Also, as much as I love bad boy, sex-god Eddie, I just head cannon Eddie Munson as a virgin because come on, lol, he's a DnD nerd who plays in a "weird" band, sells drugs, and failed senior year twice. I love him with all my heart, but the boy has never gotten his dick wet lmao

(And, yes, I took the title from a Richard Siken poem, sue me)

Ao3 Link: Here

“‘Kay, kids, I think it’s time to pack it in,” Steve said as he stood up and clapped his hands.

“What?!” Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Will protested in unison, snapping their heads up from where they were crowded around your long coffee table.

“We’ve barely even started,” Mike argued as his eyebrows furrowed sharply.

“Yeah, the sun hasn’t even set yet,” Dustin added, stabbing an accusatory finger at where the fading orange sunlight was filtering in through the living room window. “We’ve got like, at least thirty, thirty-five minutes before we need to leave.”

“But we’ve been playing for hours,” Robin groaned as she flopped over on the couch, into the space Steve had just vacated. “I’m bored.”

“You’re only bored because you died,” Dustin shot back. “By tripping off a cliff, I might add, which I’m still not sure how you did that…”

“And this is nothing,” Nancy scoffed from beside Robin. “Mike once ran a marathon forty-eight hour session in our basement, starting Friday and going all through the weekend. That room smelled disgusting by Sunday night.”

“Shut. Up. Nancy!” Mike was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and he turned and scowled at his sister over his shoulder. He was blushing, and when El giggled from where she was leaning against Mike’s opposite shoulder, he only blushed harder.

“Only telling the truth,” Nancy said as she raised her hands.

“I believe you,” Steve muttered and then ducked when Dustin threw a six-sided die at him. “Hey! That’s it! Party’s over. It’s past your bedtimes, so pack up all your little toys and dolls.”

“Hey, no need to disrespect the game, Harrington,” Eddie said from behind you.

He was sitting in the recliner your mom’s boyfriend bought only a few months ago, and he looked every inch like a king on his throne when you glanced up at him from where you were sitting— also cross-legged —between his feet. Since he’d been discharged from the hospital, he hadn’t let you leave his side, and he always had to be touching you, not that you were complaining. Right now, both of his legs were pressed against the outside of your arms, and one of his hands was idly playing with your hair.

“I have respect for the game,” Steve huffed with his hands on his hips, like a disgruntled mother. “But like Robin said, it’s been hours, and you know Agent Mustache gets pissed when we’re not back in our homes by sunset.”

All at once, the teasing atmosphere in your living room evaporated, and you watched as everyone’s smiles slowly faded.

It had been three weeks since everything went to shit. Three weeks since Hawkins was split in half by the Upside Down’s gates. In those three weeks, a lot had changed. For one, Hawkins felt like a ghost town now. Most people had either fled or been evacuated. But there were still a few hold outs: a couple of simply stubborn people who didn’t like being told what to do, a handful of others who just had nowhere else to go, and some old men and women who’d been born in Hawkins and planned to die there, too.

And, of course, the families of the kids in this room. El had needed to stay to deal with the gates, and Mike of course wasn’t leaving her, which meant neither were Dustin, Lucas, and Will. Steve, Nancy, and Robin felt like they needed to protect the kids, and you and Eddie had already given a pound of flesh to the cause, so what was a little more?

The government hadn’t been too happy with the number of liabilities left on their hands, but Mike pointed out that he and his friends had already broken into a secret lab and a Russian spy operation, so slipping back into Hawkins would have been child’s play. The government just gave up trying to make them leave after that.

Instead, they’d instated a curfew. A heavily enforced curfew. Soldiers armed with flamethrowers roamed the barren and broken streets of Hawkins at all times, but at night the patrols doubled, bright headlights sweeping the darkness for anything that moved.

Surprisingly, nothing had happened yet. In fact, it had been relatively quiet. The gates were still a ghostly specter that haunted the town, spewing forth ash and killing all plant life within a certain radius. But nothing else had come through the portals. No demo-dogs, or bats, no Demogorgons, nothing. El and Will said it felt like Vecna was biding his time, licking his wounds, preparing for his next big move, so everyone was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But there were only so many strategy meetings a group of teens could sit through, only so much prep and training they could do. Sometimes, everyone just needed a break, a few hours to not think about monsters, or the world ending, or the fact that Max still hadn’t woken up, no matter how hard El tried to reach her.

And that’s where Eddie Munson came in. Eddie, with his infectious smile and enthusiasm, his elaborate storytelling skills that ensnared his audience and made the real world just fall away. Everyone had become an honorary member of the Hellfire Club, even Steve “the Hair” Harrington. Not everyone was particularly good, but it was a fun way to pass the time, a nice reprieve from all the life-and-death situations this group somehow always found themselves in.

But now, reality had come calling once again.

“Ugh, way to kill the mood, Steve,” Dustin sighed, breaking the morose silence as he flopped back onto the carpeted floor.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the bad guy.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Blame me all you want, but we still gotta get going.”

The kids all grumbled as they started packing up, and as if on cue, Jonathan suddenly came stumbling in through the back door off the kitchen, coughing and watery-eyed. He’d excused himself about half an hour ago, and it wasn’t hard to tell what he’d been doing on your back porch.

“Hey, guys are we, uh, heading out soon?” he drawled. “Sun’s setting.”

He blinked slowly at everyone, and you saw Will roll his eyes, which made Mike, Lucas, and Dustin stifle snorts. Then Dustin got this mischievous look you knew too well, and he turned to Jonathan with a startled expression.

“What are you talking about, dude?” the kid asked. “We’ve been here all night, that’s the sunrise.”

Jonathan balked and snapped his head toward the window, which caused the whole room to break out in laughter. Blushing, the older Byers rubbed the back of his head, and Nancy smiled as she walked over, placed her hand on his arm, and murmured something to him in a reassuring cadence.

You didn’t know what was going on with Nancy and her so-called boyfriend, especially with the way Steve was staring at the pair of them, but you were a professional at minding your own damn business, so you turned away from them, craned your neck back, and looked up at Eddie behind you.

“That was a good session, Munson,” you said, smiling up at him as you leaned your temple against his knee.

“I know.” He smirked, but then he narrowed his eyes at you. “Wait, why do you sound surprised? All of my sessions are good sessions, Obi. You might be a Jedi Master, but I am the Dungeon Master.”

Even after all this time, that stupid nickname he gave you made butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Of course.” You nodded, making sure you face was very serious. “You are the Dungeon Master to end all Dungeon Masters. No one can hold a candle to your genius.”

“That’s more like it,” Eddie said with a pleased expression, and he wrapped a lock of your hair around his finger. His eyes were dark and deep as he stared down at you, but his touch was soft when his thumb brushed the side of your face.

You leaned into his hand with a sigh, but the moment was abruptly broken by Dustin making a gagging noise.

“Ugh, get a room you two,” he groaned.

You whipped your head around and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Um, this is my house, Henderson,” you reminded him. “And didn’t your babysitter say it was time to go, anyway?”

Dustin made an affronted noise, and you laughed as you stood up and stretched your back. But before you could move to help pick up some of the various snack bowls scattered around the living room floor, two hands suddenly snaked around your waist, tugging you backward.

“Munson!” you gasped as you fell into his lap, the chair rocking back from your added weight. You turned your head to chide him, but then Eddie seized your lips, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head.

Instantly, the living room, your friends, and the rest of the world faded around you. Eddie had this… magnetism about him or something. Every time he looked at you, touched you, especially kissed you, it was like nothing else existed except the two of you. Now wasn’t any different, and you sighed as you opened your mouth to his probing tongue.

But all too soon, he pulled away, and when your eyes fluttered open, he was smirking.

“Okay, yup, time to go,” you distantly heard Steve mutter, followed by a chorus of agreements.

“Heh, worked like a charm,” Eddie whispered in your ear, and you knew he was just joking around, but his warm breath brushing your skin made you shiver.

You didn’t want to completely embarrass yourself in front of your friends, though, so you shook your head to clear it, pushed yourself off Eddie’s lap, and walked everyone to the door. The sun was just starting to dip below the tree line, and you could see a government Jeep roll by the end of the street, but everyone lived pretty close, so they should able to beat curfew.

Nancy and Mike climbed into Nancy’s car to head back to the Wheelers’, and Steve was practically the designated carpool, so he was dropping off Robin, Lucas, and Dustin. Jonathan was taking Will and El back to the combined Hopper-Byers residence, and even though his eyes were still bloodshot, you knew Jonathan was a cautious driver and would get them all home.

Maybe just a little bit slower than everyone else.

You stood on your front porch and waved goodbye until the last car slipped out of sight, and you fought back a yawn as you dropped your arm. Then your eyes trailed to the reddish sky, searching the streaks of black clouds that perpetually hovered over the gates.

It felt so strange to be living a somewhat normal life with the apocalypse hanging over everyone’s neck, but what else were you supposed to do?

“Obiii-wannn.” Eddie’s singsongy voice pulled you from your thoughts, and his arms wrapped around your waist as he tugged you back against his chest. Then he pressed a kiss to your hair and rested his chin on the top of your head. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“All the shit rolling around up here would definitely cost more than a penny,” you snorted and leaned back into him.

“Ah, well, never mind then, cuz I’m broke.”

You laughed as you turned in the circle of his arms, and the lopsided grin you loved so much was beaming down at you. You rose up on your tiptoes to kiss him, but before your lips could meet, the sharp honk of a car horn blared behind you, making you jump.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw one of the government Jeeps stopped in the middle of the street in front of your house, and the soldier in the passenger seat gave you a pointed look through the open window.

You blushed as you fell back on your heels, but Eddie just wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against his side.

“Evenin’, gentlemen,” he called out as he put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “We were just heading inside. Keep up the good work!”

The soldiers seemed unimpressed with him, but Eddie just snickered as he turned and steered you back into the house.

“Tough crowd,” he said as you shut and locked the door behind you.

Since the town still needed power, and since he was used to the hours, Wayne had continued to work nightshifts— with ample guards, of course— so he wouldn’t be home until after dawn, and he had a copy of the key to let himself in.

“I don’t know why you have to antagonize them,” you sighed, referring to the soldiers, as you turned to your boyfriend.

“Because it’s funnnn.” Eddie grinned, and he reached out to pull you against him again. “And I’ll take all the fun I can get these days.”

You didn’t blame him for that.

Still, you playfully rolled your eyes as you pulled away. Eddie made a whining noise in the back of his throat and grabbed after you, but you batted his hands back.

“Help me pick up first,” you chuckled. “Then you can Velcro yourself to me while I warm up dinner.”

“Nooo, let’s just pick up everything later,” Eddie said with a cajoling grin.

“And let Wayne trip over all this shit in the morning when we inevitably forget and fall asleep?” You raised an eyebrow and gestured to the living room floor, which was still strewn with snacks and the various odds and ends that came with every DnD session.

“Fine,” Eddie pouted, but then he got a mischievous glint in his brown gaze. “That just means you’ll have to wait longer for my surprise.”

You couldn’t help it. Your curiosity was piqued.

“What surprise?” you asked as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“That’s not how surprises work, Obi.” He smirked and wagged a finger at you, spinning on heel. “You’ll just have to wait and see now. Cleaning up comes first after all. It’s so very important.”

You knew that when Eddie got like this, he would tease you to the point of torture. He would pick up one paper, one stray chip at a time just to drag it out until you eventually broke and gave in to his demands.

“I am a hostage living in my own home,” you muttered, bending down to pick up an empty bowl covered in Dorito-dust fingerprints.

“How’s that Stockholm Syndrome treating you, baby?” Eddie asked with a wink, and you turned away from him so he couldn’t see your stupid, dopey smile.

God, you loved him. Even when he was being annoying.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem in the mood to torture you too much tonight, because he helped you pick up relatively quickly. He did distract you several times by brushing up against you on his way to the kitchen, and then twice just to full on kiss you, but eventually the living room floor was no longer a death trap. You’d mostly just stacked the mess in different places— empty bowls on the kitchen counter, and DnD supplies on a living room end table— but at least it wasn’t underfoot anymore.

And it wasn’t like your mom or her boyfriend were here to bitch at you, anyway.

“Alright, Munson,” you said, and you turned to him and placed your hands on your hips. “What’s this surprise?”

“Aw, I think you can ask a little nicer than that, sweetheart,” Eddie teased as he faced you in the middle of your living room. His dark-brown eyes were dancing with a playful delight, and he tapped the fingers of his right hand against his lips, like he was trying to hide his shit-eating grin.

He wasn’t successful.

But two could play this game.

You dropped your arms from your hips and slowly sauntered up to him, closing the distance in three strides. Some of the cockiness went out of his gaze the closer you got, and once you came to a stop in front of him, you slowly wound your arms around his neck, pressing your chest into his. Then you rose up on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against the shell of his ear.

“Pretty please?” you breathed, punctuating the question with a flick of your tongue against his earlobe.

Eddie groaned deep in his chest, and you knew you’d won.

Smirking, you dropped back onto your heels, but Eddie latched his hands onto your hips to keep you from pulling away. When he looked down at you, his eyes were narrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“You are evil,” he deadpanned. “Evil Obi. You might have all the others fooled, but I can see the horns holding up your halo.”

You grinned, stuck your tongue out, and lifted your hands up to your head in the symbol for horns, copying a face Eddie had made many times.

It worked like a charm, because the fake-hardness to his expression melted, and he bent down to slant his mouth over yours.

“Is this my surprise?” you giggled against his lips. “Not that I’m complaining, but it isn’t exactly a surprise when you kiss me every five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” Eddie gasped, pulling away from you with wide eyes. “Shit, I’m way off schedule. No way am I gonna make my daily quota now.”

You giggled again and playfully shoved his shoulder. “I’m serious. You have me dying with curiosity now. What’s the surprise?”

“Well, we definitely can’t have you dying,” Eddie said with a smirk, and one of his hands left your hip to dig around the back pocket of his jeans. After a moment of rummaging, he withdrew his hand with a flourish and dangled something in between your faces. “Ta-da!”

You blinked and leaned back a little to bring the object into focus, but the smell hit you before your brain processed what was in the small plastic baggie.

“No way,” you murmured, reaching up for the bag of weed. “Where the hell did you get this?”

The two of you hadn’t smoked anything besides cigarettes in weeks. Eddie had suggested maybe going back out to Rick’s to see if the drug dealer had anything stashed since Rick himself was still in jail, but Lover’s Lake was a hot zone with Watergate being in the center of it, so neither you nor Eddie wanted to take the risk for a little grass.

“I have my ways,” Eddie said as he tugged the bag out of your reach. “A good man never reveals his sources, like a magician never reveals his tricks.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms over your chest, and he caved in less than thirty seconds.

“Alright, twist my arm, damn,” he grumbled. “IIIII might have told Byers— the older one— that my pain levels have been… higher than they actually are, and he was a good enough friend to give me some primo pain management all the way from California.”

“Munson!” you gasped, your tone half scandalized, half amused. “You conned Jonathan out of what is probably the last of his Cali stash?”

“It was for a good cause!”

“And what cause is that?” you asked as you tried to keep from laughing, but it was hard when Eddie was standing there pouting like an innocent puppy while holding a bag of illicit substances.

“Becauseeeee… I wanted to get high with you?” Eddie replied with a sheepish smile. “And I think I deserve it after being such a brave hero, don’t you?”

“You’re really going to milk that forever, aren’t you?” you deadpanned, but secretly you were happy that he saw himself as you did, even if just a little, even if he tried to make it a joke.

“Forever and ever, baby.” He grinned before shaking the bag at you. “So, what do you say, Obi? Do you want to enjoy your surprise, or do you want to be a goody two shoes and give Byers back his weed?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look conflicted, but really, there was no question.

“Fine.” You snatched the bag out of his hand while his grin widened. “But I’m rolling. You always make them too fat.”

“No such thing,” Eddie snickered, but he dutifully followed you back to your bedroom.

You went over to your desk while Eddie sauntered over to the bed. Before your mother left, you always kept your papers and lighters hidden deep in a junk drawer, or even in the floorboards after David moved in and started giving you shit when you came home from Eddie’s smelling particularly skunky. But now she and David were gone, and Wayne honestly didn’t give a shit. He even sometimes smoked a bit himself to deal with the pain that came from working in a powerplant for thirty odd years. So, your tray was just sitting in the corner of your desk, and you pulled it towards you as you flicked on the lamp in the opposite corner.

Behind you, Eddie had grabbed his guitar from the side of the bed and was idly strumming out the riff of a Motorhead song. Gareth had given him a small amp after the Munson trailer was destroyed, but Eddie was always respectful and kept the volume at a tolerable level, unless you asked him to crank it up. It might be strange to some, but you found the heavy rock chords soothing, and you hummed along absently as you picked up your grinder.

“Obiiiii,” Eddie sing-songed from the bed behind you, and he suddenly paused his strumming.

“I haven’t even started yet, Munson,” you said without looking back at him. “Patience.”

“But why are you allllll the way over there?” he asked, and you could just imagine the pout on his face. “Just come roll it on the bed.”

“You know that never ends well,” you snorted, shooting a look at him over your shoulder. And yup, he was pouting. “We always end up spilling it, and I am not picking crumbs out of my carpet and wasting what little we have.”

“We don’t always spill it,” Eddie argued, but when you just cocked an eyebrow at him, he huffed. “Okay, maybe, like, eighty percent of the time.”

“So basically always.” You shook your head and faced forward again, opening the bag of weed and trying not to greedily inhale like a crazy person. God, you’d missed smoking. Your anxiety had been through the roof this past week as everyone waited for the other shoe to drop. You just wanted one night to not think about it. “Just give me five minutes, and I’ll come join you.”

“That’s soooo long, though,” Eddie groaned from behind you. “I don’t know if I’ll make it that long.”

You glanced at him again to see he’d sprawled back dramatically on your pillows, his guitar laying across his chest. He was staring at you with those puppy dog eyes again, but your gaze got sidetracked by the sliver of pale skin just visible between the hem of his black hoodie and the tops of his black and torn jeans— both hand-me-downs from Jonathan, though Eddie was a bit taller. Heat bloomed to life in the pit of your gut, but it was quickly extinguished when you saw the edge of a pink and still-healing scar.

That night, filled with blood and the shrieking of bats, suddenly filled your mind, and now you wanted to be close to him, too, to feel him pressed against you, warm skin and beating heart.

You didn’t say anything as you turned back to the desk, quickly gathered your tray and supplies, and stood from your chair. You crossed the room in two strides, but instead of sitting on the bed itself, you sat on the floor between the wall and the side of the bed. Pressing back against the mattress with Eddie’s legs dangling to the left of you, you stretched out your own legs and set the tray of supplies between your thighs.

“Wait, are you telling me that worked?” Eddie laughed from the bed above you.

“Hush, I’m working,” you muttered, but you leaned your shoulder into the side of his leg to quell the latent panic still haunting the corners of your brain.

He was fine. He was sitting right here beside you, alive, and the two of you were going to get high, so all was right with the world.

You repeated these things to yourself as you slowly ground up some of Jonathan’s weed, but almost like he could hear your thoughts, Eddie suddenly swung himself upright. Then he slid down to sit beside you on the floor, leaving his guitar against your pillows. His legs were longer than yours, so when he stretched them out, his toes brushed the edge of the wall in front of you.

“That’s better,” Eddie sighed as he leaned against you, settling his right hand on top of your thigh.

It was still strange to see his fingers bare, but the ring he previously wore on that hand was now perched on your middle finger, the black stone clicking off the grinder as you turned it. He’d given it to you a few days after he got out of the hospital, at first just lying on your couch with his head in your lap and playfully stacking his rings on your fingers. Most of them were too big, but the gemstone one fit, and he’d grinned so wide when he told you to keep it that you couldn’t deny him.

After a moment, Eddie started idly tugging at the dangling strings of your jean cutoffs, and his touch distracted you enough that you almost dropped the grinder and spilled everything.

“Munson.” You shot him a quick glare, and he grinned, stilling his hand but not taking it away.

“Sorry, princess,” he said. “I’ll be good.”

“I highly doubt that,” you muttered as you carefully opened the grinder, set it on the tray, and reached for the rolling papers.

“I take offense, dear Obi,” Eddie gasped, and his hand squeezed around the meat of your thigh, his thumb slipping under the hem of your shorts.

Your breathing stuttered as the papers crinkled in your hands, and you shot the dark-haired bastard another heated look.

Eddie glanced down at his hand like it wasn’t his, and then he moved it further down toward your knee and shot you another disarming smile.

“Okay, now, I’ll be good,” he said.

You shook your head but didn’t respond this time, instead focusing on the task at hand. Very slowly and very carefully, you bent one of the rolling papers into a shallow trench and then tapped some of the ground-up weed out of the grinder and into the paper. By some miracle, you didn’t spill any, and you set down the grinder and capped it before you started rolling the actual joint. Once you were satisfied by the overall size and shape, you brought the joint up to your mouth and licked the edge, your fingers nimbly rolling the paper into a cylinder and twisting off the ends.

“Ta-da.” You smirked and flourished the joint as you looked up at Eddie, but your smugness evaporated in an instant.

Eddie was staring at you with such an intent expression that you felt naked. His pupils were dilated, turning his already dark eyes into pools of black that glimmered with something you couldn’t name, and his gaze was locked onto your lips. You also realized his hand had tightened around your thigh again, and your skin broke out into goosebumps.

“Um…” Your voice cracked, your mouth suddenly dry, and you snaked your tongue out to wet your lips, Eddie tracking the movement like a predator tracks its prey. “Munson?”

His named seemed to snap him out of hit, and his eyes flicked up to yours.

“What?” he asked. His voice was raspy, rough, like he’d swallowed nails and gravel.

“I, uh…” You fought to regain your composure and suddenly remembered the joint in your hand. “I finished. And I w-will say, it looks pretty perfect. Definitely not too fat.”

Eddie stared at you for a long moment before his gaze finally drifted to the joint between your fingers, and now that his eyes weren’t boring into yours anymore, you felt like you could breathe.

“Hmm, I’ll be the judge of that, Obi,” he said as he plucked the joint from your hand, his voice back to its usual teasing cadence. He narrowed his eyes at the joint, inspecting it from every angle at great detail and making exaggerated faces. After a few moments, he clicked his tongue and looked back at you, and the hint of a smirk was tugging at his lips. “Well, I don’t know about perfect, but it’s pretty good. A solid eight out of ten.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, playing along. “And where did I lose two points?”

“The ends are messy,” he said with all seriousness. “And since there are two ends, you lose two points.”

“Fine, then give it back.” You reached out for the joint. “I’ll smoke it all by myself, messy ends and all.”

“Well, now, let’s not be too hasty,” Eddie laughed, leaning back and extending his arm out of your reach. Then he pressed the fingers of his opposite hand to his ear and nodded like someone else was talking to him. “Wait, what’s that? I’m hearing from the other judges that your score has been reconsidered! Perfect ten out of ten.”

“That’s what I thought.” You smirked and sat back against the mattress, picking up the lighter from your tray and tossing it into his lap. “And because I’m so nice, I’ll even let you light it up.”

“Your charity knows no bounds, Obi.” Eddie stuck the end of the joint between his lips and grinned as he picked up the lighter. “One of the things I love most about you.”

His tone and expression were joking, but there was a genuine earnestness to his eyes that made your cheeks flush.

But then he was striking the lighter, bringing the flame to the tip of the joint, and inhaling. You watched his cheeks hollow, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief, and the sight made the heat in your face travel down to the rest of your body.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Shit,” Eddie exhaled a few seconds later, smoke curling from his lips and rising to the ceiling. The acrid smell hit you like a wave, and already you felt your body relaxing.

No, you needed this.

“Don’t hog it, Munson,” you muttered, nudging your elbow into his arm. “Sharing is caring.”

“And you said I needed patience,” he teased but handed the joint over.

The second it was at your lips, you inhaled slowly, holding the breath deep in your lungs until spots of color began to dance in the corners of your vision. Then you exhaled all at once, a sharp release, and your ears rang slightly as you started to cough.

“Fuckkkk.” You dropped your head back against the edge of the bed. Tears blurred your view of the ceiling, but then you blinked, and drops of warm water trailed down your cheeks.

“I know, right?” Eddie snickered, taking the joint back from you. “This shit’s way better that what I got from Rick. I didn’t know Byers was such a connoisseur.”

“Connoisseur,” you echoed and then giggled. Your head already felt a little swimmy, but that might be from the coughing and lack of oxygen. “That’s a funny word.”

“Blame the French, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled before he took another drag.

The two of you passed the joint for a few rounds, and you felt like you could melt into the carpet. Every knot in every muscle you had unwound bit by bit, and the horrors of the Upside Down and the impending future faded until they were nothing but a distant memory.

“Hey, Obi,” Eddie murmured what felt like minutes and hours later. “Pssst, Obi.”

“Hmmm?” you hummed, lolling your head to the side to look at him.

His face was less than a foot away, so close you could count every pore and laugh line, and his brown eyes were hooded and glassy as they skipped over your face. He was holding the still-smoking joint between his middle and index finger, like he would hold a cigarette, but when he caught your gaze, he shifted his grip so he was holding it more firmly between his index finger and thumb.

“Can I try something?” he asked, and there was a glint in his gaze that you knew you should be worried about, but you felt too relaxed to worry about anything right now. “There’s this thing I’ve always wanted to try…”

“Sure,” you mumbled, and Eddie grinned before he brought the joint to his mouth and inhaled again, the cherry on the end flaring orange.

Then he held the joint out of the way and leaned forward, and dull surprise sparked through your veins when his lips met yours.

You opened up to him instinctively, inhaling sharply just from his proximity, and Eddie seized the opportunity to shotgun the hit he’d taken into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed as his tongue chased the smoke past your teeth, and he flicked the point of it against the roof of your mouth before he pulled away.

You held your breath for as long as you could before exhaling, and when you opened your eyes again, Eddie’s gaze was locked on your face. His eyes were black once more, his head backlit by the lamp on the bedside table behind him, and you suddenly realized what that something in his gaze had been when he’d watched you roll the joint. Because it was there again.

Lust.

Your stomach immediately bottomed out inside of you as every hair on your body stood on end.

It had been three weeks since Eddie woke up in the hospital, three weeks since the two of you confessed your feelings to each other, since he moved into your house. He even slept beside you in your bed every night. Not at first, of course. For the first two nights, he just “slept” on your living room couch while Wayne took the master bedroom. But by the third morning, you couldn’t ignore the dark bags under Eddie’s eyes any longer and so confronted him. He had eventually confessed that he hadn’t been sleeping much. Kept being woken up by nightmares and then panicking that something was in the house and running to check on you in your bedroom. You had laughed a little, then, to his confusion, and told him you’d been checking up on him, too, the pair of you seemingly missing each other like ships in the night. Hell, for all you knew, you were the ones waking each other up.

After that, Eddie moved into your bedroom for both your peace of minds, but like a gentleman, he tried to take the floor. He piled it with sheets and blankets and pillows, assuring you it was fine, but that lasted all of five minutes after the lights were dimmed.

(You never turned them out completely at night, both you and Eddie too uneasy in the dark.)

Emboldened by the shadows hiding your furious blush, you were the one who broke and asked him to just come lie in the bed with you, and after only a few beats, Eddie had slowly and quietly climbed up onto the mattress. He’d been stiff, stretched out beside you on his back, and in an effort to help him relax, you’d rolled on your side to face him, tentatively placing your hand on his chest to show him it was okay. He’d immediately subsided into the sheets, sighing, and turned his head to brush a kiss against your brow. And the two of you slept that night with no nightmares, for either of you.

Since then, you’d slept every night in the same bed as him, and more and more lately, you woke up with him wrapped around you, his front to your back, holding you tightly against his body.

But it had never been sexual. (Well, you had woken up a few times with his morning wood pressed against your back, but that didn’t count, that was just an…unconscious physiological response, and you always pretended to be asleep until he rolled out of bed to go to the bathroom.)

Either way, nothing had happened between you two except for a few heavy makeout sessions, and those never happened in your bedroom. The living room, the kitchen, the hallway, but never the bedroom. And whenever things got too heated, Eddie was always the first to pull away, to press one last kiss to your brow and step back, changing the subject to something innocuous.

You knew it had been because the two of you were so injured at first. You’d only ditched the sling a few days ago, and your arm was still sore, needing to be exercised every morning and night. Eddie had also recently received the all-clear from the doctors, and you wondered if he’d just been waiting to make sure neither of you got hurt.

The look in his eyes was definitely not hesitant now, and you felt your core throb in response.

A thousand thoughts tumbled through your brain like rocks in a dryer, a very slow dryer, because everything felt slow and languid around you, like it always did when you got high. Your skin was lightly buzzing, but your tongue was heavy in your mouth, and Eddie’s hungry gaze continued to pin you to the spot like a butterfly pinned beneath glass.

“Do you…” The words fell from your mouth unbidden, slow like molasses, but nervousness suddenly traced its hand down your spine, making you shiver.

“Do I… what?” Eddie murmured after a moment of silence. His voice was lower than usual, made rougher by the smoke, and you suddenly remembered the joint in his hand.

For courage, you leaned forward and plucked the remnants of the joint from between his fingers. There was maybe one good hit left, so you took it, the embers burning your fingertips as the smoke swirled into your mouth before you held it there. Then, as Eddie’s black eyes swallowed you whole, you bridged the distance between your lips and his. He opened dutifully beneath you, inhaling as you exhaled, and one of his hands came up and cradled your jaw, long fingers framing your face.

Once your lungs were emptied, you pulled back a fraction, and since you were feeling a little more brave, you trapped his lower lip between your teeth and tugged. You let him go just as quickly, but Eddie’s fingers had burrowed into your hair now, holding you in place.

Your eyes fluttered open— when had you closed them?— and you could see a tiny version of yourself reflected in Eddie’s wide pupils. Then he exhaled sharply, a curtain of smoke rising between your faces, and you were just about to pull further back when he lunged forward and smashed his mouth against yours.

His sudden ferocity startled a gasp out of you, and Eddie cupped your face more soundly as he leaned forward, his tongue delving past your lips and pulling up a moan from deep within your chest.

You had just enough sense left to drop the ashes of the joint on your tray before you were tangling both hands in Eddie’s hair and kissing him back with equal intensity. The rings on his left hand felt cold against your temple, your cheek, but everywhere else you felt hot, so hot. His mouth was like a furnace, a fiery brand, tasting of ash and smoke.

You were both gasping for breath every time your lips parted, but then one of you would dive back in for more, teeth and tongues clashing. When his left hand trailed from your cheek down to your neck, you thought you were going to combust, and then his other hand tiptoed up your thigh, and you knew you were going to burst into flame.

The apex of your thighs throbbed again when his fingers brushed the hem of your shorts, and you whimpered before you ripped your mouth away, gasping for breath and dropping your hands from his hair.

“Come back here,” Eddie muttered as he chased after you, but then he suddenly hissed and froze.

The pained note in his voice abruptly cleared some of the fog from your mind, and you blinked as your gaze zeroed in on him.

“Are—” God, your voice sounded wrecked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie nodded, but his eyes were tightly closed as he faced forward and leaned back against the bed again. “Just… twisted a little too far.”

His right hand ghosted over his side, and you chewed on your swollen lower lip.

“Sorry,” you murmured, guilt stabbing through you. He was still healing, and here you were being a horny mess.

Eddie opened the eye closest to you, and then, when he saw your expression, he opened the other and turned his head to face you.

“Nothing you should be apologizing for, princess,” he said, and his smile turned a little sheepish before he continued. “That was… so fuckin’ hot.”

His voice took on that gravelly quality again, and you could feel slickness pool in your panties.

“Yeah,” you breathed, the filter between your mind and mouth nonexistent, shrouded by smoke and the buzzing feeling in your veins. “It was.”

Hunger flashed in Eddie’s gaze again, and he reached his arm out to you.

“Come here,” he muttered, flexing his fingers in a grabby motion.

“I’m sitting right next to you,” you said, but you didn’t fight it when his fingers gently latched onto your wrist.

“Not close enough.” Eddie pouted at you, tugging your arm.

You were half turned anyway, so you kneeled and shifted to fully face him, shuffling forward until your knees were pressed to the outside of his thigh.

“Closerrrrr,” he hummed and tugged at you again.

You realized he wanted you to straddle his lap, and a wave of heat washed over you from head to toe.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you again,” you tried to argue.

“You didn’t hurt me in the first place, Obi,” he said with a lopsided smile, the one that always tore down all of your defenses. “I just turned in a weird way. Buttttt, if you’re sitting right in front of me…”

He yanked at your arm a third time, and to keep from falling over, you clumsily slung a leg over his lap. Once you regained your balance, you hovered over him with your knees digging into the carpet on either side of his thighs, and he grinned up at you.

“Now I don’t have to turn at all,” Eddie finished, sounding proud of himself, but it was hard to be angry at him when his hands were settling on your hips, thumbs rubbing at the jut of your hip bones through your shorts.

“That’s… good,” you said. The slow-firing synapses in your brain were unable to come up with anything else.

“Doing okay there, sweetheart?” he asked as he smiled up at you. His thumbs were still stroking your hips, slowly driving you insane.

Your mouth was so dry, but you swallowed as best you could and nodded.

“Yeah,” you murmured, but then you wobbled on your knees and had to put your hands on his shoulders for balance.

“You sure?” Eddie chuckled before he tugged on your hips. “Why don’t you sit back a bit, Ms. Weeble-Wobble.”

You slowly sat back on his thighs, careful to not crush his legs, and Eddie smiled when you were at eye level.

“Hi,” he said, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Hi,” you giggled back, and then giggled again as you settled more comfortably on his thighs. “Shit, this stuff is good. I feel like I could float away.”

“Yeah, we’re definitely moving to California,” Eddie snickered and squeezed his hands over your hips. “And don’t worry. I’ll keep you anchored, princess.”

“You always do,” you sighed, and something flashed in the dark depths of his bloodshot eyes, but it was gone just as fast, fleeting and mercurial.

“What were you going to ask me before?”

“Huh?” You blinked to focus on his face a little better, and Eddie was staring at you intently.

“You started to ask me something before you took that last hit,” he clarified. “You said, ‘Do you…?’”

You frowned as you tried to remember, wading through smoke and the memories of his mouth hot against yours. Then you suddenly recalled why you’d taken that last hit in the first place, and your face burned with embarrassment.

“I don’t remember… it was nothing,” you said, squirming in his lap and then stopping when the movement pressed the seam of your shorts into your clit.

Fuck, when did you get so wet?

“Well, that’s not contradictory,” Eddie teased. “Which is it, Obi? You don’t remember, or it was nothing?”

“It was stupid,” you amended and refused to meet his eyes, staring instead at a spot on the bed above his shoulder.

“I highly doubt that,” he scoffed, but when you stayed silent, he reached out, gently took your chin between his thumb and index finger, and turned you to face him. He was still smiling gently, but his eyes were serious. “Nothing you say or do could ever be stupid.”

The sincerity in his face and voice made you blush even deeper, and you wished he would just drop it, but Eddie Munson was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something, and he stared at you patiently as he waited for you to respond.

“Fine, it’s… embarrassing,” you huffed, and you shifted your hands on his shoulders so you could fiddle with his curls.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Eddie smirked and turned to playfully nip at your fingers. “Come on, tell me.”

You stubbornly shook your head, pressing your lips together, and Eddie narrowed his eyes. After a moment, a familiar glimmer of mischief flashed across his face, and one of his hands abandoned your hips to cup your cheek.

Then he leaned forward until his lips were just a hair’s breadth away from yours, but he paused before kissing you.

“Not even if I say pretty please?” he whispered as he tossed your earlier words back at you, warm breath fanning across your lips.

His proximity, the warmth of his hands on your cheek and hip, and the high still buzzing through your body, it all overwhelmed your senses, short circuited your brain, and your mouth opened of its own accord.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” you blurted out.

Your words echoed in the deafening silence that followed, and Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise, his teasing expression going slack.

You were so embarrassed, you were sure your blood was going to start boiling.

“W-Wait, no, that’s not what I— that was stupid, oh my god, forget I said that… like that,” you rambled. Your tongue felt clumsy and alien in your mouth, and at this point you wanted to bite it off. Instead, you slammed your eyes closed and tried to pull away. “Never mind, I’ll just—”

“Woah, hey, now,” Eddie said, clamping his hands around your waist and keeping you seated on his thighs. “Where’s the fire? Come on, Obi, it’s okay. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re high.”

You peeked open your eyes to see him smiling at you reassuringly, and he was just so beautiful, so kind, that you couldn’t stop yourself from digging your hole even deeper.

“I… did mean it,” you murmured, and again your words seemed to surprise Eddie, his fingers flexing around your waist. You thought you saw his pupils dilate even further, and that gave you the courage to go on. “I-I mean, I know I’m high, but tonight isn’t the first time I’ve… thought about this. It was bad enough when we were just friends and I thought I didn’t have a shot with you, but ever since that first time you kissed me in the hospital, I’ve been… And I know we’ve both been healing, and the world is set to end at any moment, but I just… I want you, Eddie.”

You were panting for breath by the end of your little spiel, and you bit your lip as you searched his face for a reaction. You hadn’t been very eloquent, but you hoped he understood what you were trying to say.

Eddie’s pupils were definitely blown now, swallowing his irises into inky pools that contrasted with his reddened sclera. He exhaled shakily and licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat clicked with a swallow, and you thought you could feel his fingers tremble where they were still resting on your waist.

“Are—” Eddie started, stopped, cleared his throat. Then his gaze met yours, and you were surprised to see the uncertainty there. “Are you sure, Obi? B-Because I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’m perfectly fine with taking things slow, just kissing you— god, just kissing you is already enough to drive me fucking insane. So we don’t have to rush. I don’t… I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. I don’t want to hurt you. Never want to hurt you.”

That last sentence was murmured softly, Eddie’s face twisting, and your heart twisted along with it. This man. This ridiculous, noble, gentle, kind man. You loved him with your entire being.

“You could never hurt me, Eddie Munson,” you said, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. The kiss was soft, barely there, and you didn’t seek to deepen it. Instead, you pulled back and moved one of your hands to his cheek, stubble scraping across your palm as your pressed your forehead to his and stared into his eyes. “And if you want to wait, that’s okay with me. Because I agree, kissing you is pretty awesome.”

Eddie cracked a smile, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

“But,” you continued, your voice dropping low, and Eddie fingers tightened around your waist in response. “Just so you know, I could never regret anything I do with you. How could I regret something I’ve been dreaming about for almost an entire year?”

Eddie sucked in a breath and held it, and under your palm, you felt the muscles of his jaw flex as he ground his teeth together. He studied your face for a long, endless moment before he suddenly jerked his hips up. His belt buckle just barely brushed your clit through your shorts, but it was enough to tear a gasp from you, pleasure zapping through every nerve in your body, and Eddie snapped.

One of his hands left your waist to grab the back of your head, and then he was tugging you forward, crashing your mouth against his.

“Fuck, okay, yes, god, yes,” he gasped between kisses, and his hands were everywhere, in your hair, dragging down your spine, grabbing your ass to pull you against him.

“I… take it… you don’t want to… wait?” you couldn’t help but tease in the brief moments he released your lips.

“You’re not the only one who’s been dreaming of this, sweetheart,” he muttered as his mouth left yours, trailing across your jaw and down your neck. He pressed a kiss over your pulse point, and your breathing stuttered.

“Then maybe we should turn those dreams… into reality?” you suggested and tilted your head back to give him more access. The fact that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him made you bold, and you ground down into his lap to further emphasize your point.

“Shit,” Eddie hissed, and then his mouth was on yours again, hungry and insistent. His tongue traced over every one of your teeth before he pulled back and nipped at your lip, his voice coming out in a desperate gasp. “J-Just tell me what to do, Obi. Fuck, I’ll do anything, anything you want, just tell me.”

It could have just been dirty talk, but you thought you detected a strange note of uncertainty to his words, and the fire building in your gut cooled a degree as you pulled back and looked into Eddie’s face. His eyes were glassy and full of lust, but you saw insecurity there, too, and a question jumped to the forefront of your mind and off your tongue before you could stop it.

“Have you… done this before?” you asked.

Eddie winced slightly, more of that insecurity blooming on his face, and you felt him start to fiddle with his rings against your right hip.

“Well, um, technically, no, b-but I know the general gist. Talk floats around the boy’s locker room, ya know, and all those magazines under my bed certainly painted a picture— shit, fuck, forget I said that. What I’m trying to say is all of my knowledge is, uh, theoretical, not practical. Not a lot of girls lining up to sleep with the trailer trash freak who sells drugs and worships Satan and… wow, I’m really selling myself here, huh? So sexy. Shit.”

Groaning, Eddie clenched his eyes shut and dropped his head back, but you chased after him, rising up on your knees a little to lean into his chest.

“Hey,” you muttered, and when he wouldn’t look at you, you reached out with both hands to cup his face. “Hey, Munson.”

Reluctantly, he tilted his head up and opened his eyes, and you smiled.

“Hi there,” you giggled, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose like he had done to you earlier.

“Hi,” he grumbled back, but he let you brush his bangs out of his face and met your gaze.

“For the record,” you said as you ran your thumbs over his stubbled cheeks, and you couldn’t help but dip down and press a quick kiss to his parted lips. “I still think you’re very sexy.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie muttered, sounding unconvinced.

“I’m serious.” You met his eyes again before your own started to trail over the features of his face. “Sexy. Handsome. Pretty. Beautiful. I think of at least one of these words every time I look at you. Your eyes always make me feel like my lungs forgot how to work, and every time you smile, especially if it’s directed at me, the world stops for just an instant. And don’t even get me started on the tattoos and jewelry. Chicks dig that stuff, you know?”

You ended on a partial joke because Eddie had started to squirm under your praise, but then he looked up at you, shifted one of your hands off his cheek, and pressed a kiss to your palm. He looked less uncomfortable now, less insecure, but his smile was still tentative.

“So… I haven’t ruined my chances, then?” he asked, and seeing the lust spark back to life in his eyes made you clench your thighs together.

“Definitely not,” you muttered as you hovered over him, your lips slowly descending toward his again.

“And you’re sure it doesn’t… bother you? That I haven’t… you know?”

“Not at all,” you breathed. You were less than a centimeter away from kissing him, but a sudden thought popped into your head, and you felt it only fair to voice it. “Does it bother you that I have?”

“No.” Eddie’s response was instantaneous, full of sincerity, and you couldn’t wait any longer. You dove down and slanted your mouth over his, and Eddie groaned against you, his fingers digging into your waist. All of his hesitation was gone now, and his hands burned a path down your back to cup your ass. You whimpered into the kiss, and your noise seemed to spur him on, because the next thing you knew, he was shifting his feet behind you and pushing upright.

“Eddie!” you gasped as you tore your mouth from his. “Be careful!”

“I got you, sweetheart, don’t worry,” he chuckled once he was fully on his feet, his hands tucked under your thighs that were wrapped around his waist.

“I’m more worried about you hurting yourself.” You frowned. You weren’t exactly thin, not like Nancy and Robin. “Put me down.”

“As the lady requests.” Eddie smirked and then turned, throwing you down on the bed beside his guitar, which he immediately moved out of the way and onto the floor. He was grinning when he looked back at you, but he seemed to freeze at the sight of you sprawled across the mattress.

You were wearing jean cutoffs, his old Metallica shirt that Dustin saved from the trailer, and a worn red flannel on top. It was a casual outfit, not even especially cute, but Eddie was staring down at you like you were wearing the sexiest set of lingerie.

“Fuck, Obi,” he breathed as his eyes pinned you to the mattress, and you squirmed under his scrutiny.

“Well, are you just going to stand there and stare at me, Munson?” you asked, cheeks flushing.

“Hell no,” he said, and then he was climbing onto the bed, hovering over you on his forearms and claiming your lips once again. He wore a new guitar pick necklace, the pick having fallen out of his copy of The Hobbit the other night. At some point, he’d apparently forgotten he was using it as a bookmark, but now it was hanging on a loose silver chain, brushing your jaw and neck as it dangled from his throat.

The two of you made out for a minute, but then Eddie started pressing kisses down your neck. When he reached your collarbones, he paused to dip his tongue into the hollow between them, and you moaned as you arched your back. The weed high was still making everything feel tingly and cranked up to eleven, and you could already feel that your panties were sticking to you beneath your shorts.

“Eddie, please,” you gasped as you buried a hand into his mane of curls.

“What do you want, Obi?” he muttered against the base of your throat, licking the skin there again.

“You.” Squirming, you arched up into him again, brain fuzzy with pleasure. “I-I want you. Want you to touch me.”

“Shit, sweetheart,” Eddie groaned before he lifted his head to seize your lips in another kiss. “Where? Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Everywhere,” you whined, reaching for the hem of your own shirt. It suddenly felt stifling in your bedroom, and you could feel sweat bead along your brow.

Eddie let out a litany of curses, but he helped to slip the shirt off over your head, and then you reached behind yourself and undid the clasp of your bra with a flick, too impatient to wait.

As you tossed the bra away and fell back onto the bed again, you saw that Eddie’s wide eyes were glued to your breasts, and his mouth hung open like the hinge of his jaw had broken.

“Oh, f-fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Obi, god, I want to put my mouth on them.” His dark gaze flicked to yours, begging. “Can I? Please?”

You wanted to tease him, but the earnest way he asked your permission made your pussy clench around nothing, and all you could do was nod your head.

Eddie wasted no time, diving down and immediately dragging his tongue over one of your nipples. The shock of his wet, hot mouth made you gasp, then whine as he closed his lips around you and sucked.

“O-Oh, shit,” you moaned when he reached up and tweaked your other nipple with his nimble fingers.

“Feel good?” he mumbled, words muffled by your flesh.

“So good,” you breathed and then cried out when he ran his teeth across your nipple. “F-Fuck! Don’t stop, don’t…”

You trailed off into another moan as Eddie flicked the nipple he wasn’t sucking on, the nub pebbling between his fingers.

“Goddamn, you make the prettiest noises, princess,” the metalhead muttered between your breasts, switching from one to the other. “Better than I ever dreamed of. And I’ve dreamed about sucking your titties a lot.”

The vulgar confession made more slick pool in your panties, and you whimpered as you reached an arm down, wiggling it between the two of you until you found the button of your jeans. But you couldn’t open it from this angle, and you groaned in frustration.

“Please, Eddie,” you begged, using your other hand to tug at his hair until he released your nipple with a slick ‘pop.’

“What?” he asked as he looked up at you, and his eyes were glassy with pleasure. You could also feel where he was hard against your thigh, and you pressed up into his bulge, making him stutter out a moan.

“Pants,” you gasped, reaching for the button of your shorts again. “Help me… help me get them off.”

“Shit,” Eddie exhaled with wide eyes as he watched you lift your hips, and then he was fumbling into motion. “Yeah, here let me just…”

With his help, you were able to push your cutoffs down your thighs and kick them away, but he stopped you when you reached for your panties.

“Eddieeee,” you whined, but he clasped your wrist firmly and pressed your hand into the bed beside your hip.

“Slow downnnn, Obi,” he said, that familiar teasing lilt in his voice, and he flashed a lopsided smile as he started to crawl down the length of you. “There are some things I want to savor.”

“Sadist,” you pouted, and Eddie opened his mouth like he was going to retort, but then his eyes zeroed in on the apex of your thighs.

“Fuckkkkk,” he breathed as he lied down on his stomach, legs dangling off the bed and his gaze glued to your pussy. “You’re so… wet. Did I do this to you?”

The awed disbelief in his voice made you moan, and you tried to clench your thighs together, but Eddie grabbed them, fingers digging into your skin.

“No, don’t hide,” his said, voice breathless. “I— fuck, I want to—”

He broke off suddenly and then just darted forward, licking a hot stripe up your slit that you felt even through the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Oh!” you gasped, the syllable cracking in the middle, and your hips bucked toward his face.

Eddie pulled back as he licked his lips, and then his wide eyes flicked from your pussy, to your face, and back again.

“S-Shit, you’re right,” he rasped out, and his fingers started clawing at your hips, tugging your panties down your thighs. “These have to go, gotta get out of the way, f-fuck.”

You giggled a little at his frantic fumbling and the way he threw your underwear over his shoulder, but then his hands were sliding up your thighs again, prying them apart, and the laughter hitched in your lungs when his eyes zeroed in on where you were wet and trembling.

“Je-Jesus Christ.” Eddie swallowed sharply as he lowered himself onto his stomach again, his gaze still locked on your pussy. “I— Jesus H. Christ. God, you look so pretty, so… Fuck, can I taste you, Obi? Please?”

Your whole body flushed, from the tips of your ears to your toes, and you squirmed beneath him.

“Y-You don’t have to,” you muttered. Despite not being a virgin yourself, you’d actually only slept with one other person, and he never did that to you. In fact, the whole “losing you virginity” thing took less than five minutes and was ultimately pretty unsatisfying.

“Oh, I want to, baby,” Eddie corrected as his eyes finally clicked to yours, dark with hunger. “Holy shit, do I want to.”

The last remnants of saliva in your mouth dried up, but you felt more wetness trickle out between your legs.

“O-Okay.” Your voice shook as you nodded, and Eddie grinned like you told him he won the lottery.

Fuck, he was going to destroy you.

Eddie wiggled a little to get more comfortable, but after a moment, he ended up just kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, tugging you down until your butt met the edge of the mattress.

You gasped as he parted your thighs to make room for his broad shoulders, and he smiled as he trailed kisses up each of your legs before he pushed them back so your feet dangled near his ears.

In this position, you felt vulnerable, all of you laid out and laid bare, but the absolute adoration and lust in Eddie’s eyes chased away any of your lingering insecurities.

“Damn, I wish I had a camera,” he muttered as his gaze dragged over you, hot enough to burn. “You look… so fucking incredible.”

“Eddie, stop teasing me,” you huffed, reaching out to twine your fingers through his curls. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, pretty girl.” He smirked, but then his cocky expression grew a little hesitant. “I-I’ll probably fuck it up at first, but just tell me what feels good. I want to make you feel good.”

You nodded frantically, but all your words were lost when Eddie leaned forward, his breath fanning over your slick folds. His fingers dug into the meat of your thighs as he anchored himself, the rings on his left hand cold against your overheated skin. Then the flat of his tongue dragged across your pussy, and your vision whited out.

“F-Fuck!” You tossed your head back as pleasure zapped through you, and you unintentionally tugged on Eddie’s hair, pulling him further between your thighs.

“Oh, god,” Eddie whimpered, and then he was suddenly licking you with fervor, delving between your folds until his nose bumped into your clit. Even that slight stimulation to your bundle of nerves had you jolting, and Eddie noticed, shifting his mouth upward, tongue swirling in circles that made you see stars.

“Eddieeee,” you keened to the ceiling when he sucked your clit between his lips, and he immediately popped his head up so you could just see his wide eyes and slick mouth over the curve of your belly.

“Holy shit, you taste so fucking good, Obi,” he said, voice guttural. “Am I— does it feel good, too?”

“Y-Yes, fuck, Eddie, feels incredible,” you panted as you tugged at his hair. “Please don’t stop.”

Eddie stared at your flushed and writhing body for a moment before he was diving back between your legs, tongue and lips everywhere. He was a little sloppy, saliva mixing with your arousal and making everything slick, but his eagerness made up for it. He was also very attuned to your every sound and twitch, so when he dipped his tongue into your entrance, and your moans rose in pitch, he started swirling the tip of his tongue around your hole until you were practically sobbing. Then he fucked his tongue into you as far as it could go, his nose pressed firmly to your clit, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

You didn’t know if it was the weed still singing through your veins or if it was just Eddie, but your orgasm crept up on you without warning. One moment, Eddie was pressing a sucking kiss to your clit before fucking his tongue back into you, groaning at the taste, and in the next instant, your spine was arching off the bed as every muscle in your body locked up.

“Shit, I’m-- ohhhhhh!” you wailed as Eddie rapidly thrust his tongue into you, shaking his head at the same time so his nose flicked back and forth over your clit.

It felt like you shattered into a million pieces, lights and colors exploding behind your tightly shut eyelids. You could distantly feel your legs spasming and clamping around Eddie’s head, but he was still moaning as he tongue-fucked you through your climax. You whimpered and clawed at his hair, feeling like every nerve in your body was an exposed live-wire, chanting his name until you ran out of breath.

Once your whines took on a slightly pained quality, Eddie pulled his mouth away, and it was like you were a puppet whose strings got cut, because you immediately slumped into the bed.

Air sawed in and out of your lungs as you gasped for breath, and you stared blindly at the spinning ceiling while you slowly descended back into your body. Your limbs felt like they were filled with static, but you mustered up enough energy to lift you head and look down toward the foot of the bed.

Eddie was still kneeling on the floor between your legs, and you felt your walls flutter around nothing at the glimmer of your juices smeared across his chin. His breathing was as ragged as your own, and his hair was wild, mussed by your fingers. When he caught your eye, he exhaled sharply and half-heartedly dragged the back of his wrist against his chin, his chain bracelet glinting in the light of your lamp.

“Jesus Christ, Obi,” he grunted out, and his black eyes threatened to swallow you whole. “That was… fuck, that was so goddamn hot. I could feel you fluttering around my tongue. Shit.”

He reached down with his right hand, and though the edge of the bed hid it from view, you knew he was palming his cock through his jeans. His obvious arousal made you throb again, and you bit your lip.

“I’ve… I’ve never cum that fast,” you confessed, and your cheeks still flushed with embarrassment even though the man in front of you had been tongue deep in your pussy just seconds ago.

Eddie groaned at your admission, and then both of his hands were latching onto your inner thighs again, thumbs smearing saliva and slick into your skin.

“Do you— can you do it again?” he asked, his dilated eyes flicking from your folds to your face. “I want to see you do it again. Wanna see you cum, pretty girl.”

His pet names made more slick drip out of you, made your thoughts fizz out into static for a moment, but then you frowned and propped yourself up on your elbows.

“What about you?” From this angle, you could see his lower half, and his cock was straining against his tight black jeans. It looked like it hurt. “I want to make you feel good, too. Can I put my mouth on you instead?”

Another groan rattled deep in Eddie’s chest, and he had to reach down again to press the heel of his palm into his crotch.

“Christ, that’s fucking tempting,” he panted, but then his eyes drifted back to your pussy, and they got that hungry glint in them as he leaned down and darted his tongue between your folds.

You cried out as your elbows buckled, your spine falling back to the mattress.

“But you just taste too goddamn good, baby,” he muttered against your clit. “Wanna make you feel good again. Want you to fall apart on my tongue, my fingers.”

You whined as he started licking at you once more, and soon you could feel the coil in your gut tightening bit by bit. This time, Eddie focused his mouth around your clitoris, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it between his lips, and when your legs started twitching around his ears, he snaked a hand down your belly and pressed a finger to your entrance.

You immediately shoved your hips down, sucking his finger in to the knuckle, and the two of you moaned in unison, the sound rattling through your bones.

“O-Oh, fuck,” Eddie hissed as his twisted his finger inside you, pressing against the walls of your pussy. “Fuck, Obi, you’re so wet and goddamn tight. Holy shit.”

“Eddie,” you whimpered, clenching around him. His finger was thicker than any of yours were, but it was still not enough, so you bore down, tears gathering along your lashes as you begged. “M-More. Please, Eddie. Y-Your finger f-feels so good— fuck! So good. I need another one, please.”

You were practically sobbing now, humping into his hand, and Eddie leaned down to pepper kisses over your inner thighs.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, and you felt the tip of a second finger prod at your entrance. “It’s okay, baby, I got you, give you everything you want. Anything you want. Here you go… shit, you gotta relax sweetheart, let me in.”

You whined but listened as best as you could, and a moment later, he slotted both fingers home inside of you, drawing a shout from deep within your chest. Your pussy immediately clamped down around both digits, but Eddie twisted and spread them inside you, stretching your walls, until he brushed up against that one spongy spot that caused you to wail.

“Fuck, is that it, baby? Is that the spot?” he grunted, pressing more insistently on it.

You couldn’t respond because your toes were starting to curl, your moans rising in pitch, but apparently that was all the response Eddie needed because he suddenly started thrusting his fingers, hard. They nailed your G-spot with pinpoint accuracy, squelching through your wetness, and then you felt his thumb brush over your clit.

“Cum for me, Obi,” he said as he pressed on your pleasure zones from both the inside and outside. “Cum on my fingers. Want to see it so bad, baby, please.”

The coil in your gut spun tighter and tighter, but it finally exploded when Eddie leaned down and sank his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and you felt yourself levitate off the bed as your second climax crashed into you like a tsunami wave. The weed in your system amplified the sensations once again, sending your mind into the stratosphere and your limbs spasming like you were being electrocuted. Then there was a gush of wetness between your thighs, and Eddie’s guttural groan echoed through your bones.

The world blacked out around you for a moment, and when you came to, you were sprawled limp on the bed. Your chest heaved as your lungs fought for oxygen, but the sensation of a wet tongue dragging across your thigh caused you to jerk.

You blearily glanced down at Eddie, and a gasp whistled between your teeth at what you saw.

His curly head was propped against your thigh, which he was still kitten licking, but what shocked you were the droplets dripping off his cheeks, jaw, and bangs. Then you shifted, and you realized you were lying in a very wet spot.

“F-Fuck!” You propped yourself up on shaking elbows, disbelief burning through you. “Did I…”

You trailed off, unable to complete the sentence, and Eddie’s eyes finally met yours. They looked like twin oceans of oil that were threatening to suck you under.

“Squirt?” he finished your hanging question, and his tongue flicked out to lick a drop of your juices off his chin. “Fuck yeah you did. Hottest thing I’ve ever goddamn seen.”

“Shittttt, I’m sorry,” you groaned and covered your face with both hands, falling back onto the bed as shame spiraled through you. “I-I forgot that smoking sometimes makes me do… that.”

It had happened twice, both times after you left Eddie’s trailer high and had to come home to satiate the burning ache between your legs. It had been embarrassing then— when you were alone, and no one saw you shamefully wash your sheets in the middle of the might— but it was mortifying now.

Eddie was silent for a moment, but then you felt him shift, the bed dipping as he climbed up onto his feet and hovered over you.

“Did you miss the part where I said that was the hottest goddamn thing I’ve seen in my life?” he asked, and when you wouldn’t reply, he used one of his hands to pry yours from your face. His fingers were tacky against your skin, and you flushed when you realized it was from your orgasm.

“R-Really?” you asked tentatively, finding his eyes, and the lust in his brown gaze almost set you aflame.

In response, Eddie lowered his hips, rolling them against your own until his erection pressed into the crease of your thigh. He was hard as steel, and since he was still somehow fully clothed, his belt buckle and jeans scraped over your sensitive skin deliciously.

A whimper caught in the back of your throat, and Eddie dove down to seize your lips. You groaned at the tangy taste of yourself, and he rolled his hips into your thigh again.

“What do you think?” Eddie asked against your lips, the question half growl, and even though you’d already cum twice, desire ignited in your belly again.

“I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you muttered as you reached down to grab the hem of his hoodie, but the instant you brushed fabric, his fingers latched onto your wrist, his grip tight and unyielding.

You thought he was teasing you again, but when you looked up at his face, the lust that had been there was suddenly gone, replaced by an uneasy fear.

His expression immediately made you still.

“Eddie?” you asked and shifted your head to meet his gaze more directly under the shadow of his bangs. “Are you… okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” He smiled shakily and cleared his throat before he turned the wattage up on the smile, but it still looked forced. You stared at him patiently for about ten seconds, and when Eddie saw he hadn’t convinced you, he sighed and averted his eyes. “It’s just, uhh, can I keep my shirt o-on?”

The question hung between the two of you for a moment, and Eddie seemed to hunch more into the curtain of his hair.

“If that’s what you’re comfortable with, of course,” you said as you frowned at him, frown deepening when he seemed to sigh in relief. “But… can I ask why?”

His sudden change in demeanor concerned you, and you could feel your desire fading, taking a back seat as you hesitantly reached out and cupped his face. Eddie ground his jaw beneath your palm, but when he finally met your eyes, his expression fractured.

“It’s just—” he started, stopped, took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he turned his head and nuzzled into your palm. “I… don’t exactly look pretty from the neck down anymore. Damn bats really ruined my bikini body, ya know? And I just didn’t want my s-scars to ruin the mood, but hey, would you look at that, I did it all by myself, huh?”

He laughed in a dry, self-deprecating manner, but you immediately tilted his head up.

“Eddie, look at me, open your eyes,” you said firmly, and after a moment of hesitation, he obeyed. His deep brown eyes looked so lost now, so uncertain and scared, it broke your goddamn heart. “Eddie Munson, I want you to listen to me, and listen good. First off, you didn’t ruin anything. Secondly, and more importantly, you are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met—”

He opened his mouth, probably intent to argue, but you narrowed your eyes at him, and his lips pursed shut.

“You are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met,” you repeated as you held his gaze. “Both inside and out. And I know for a fact that will not change no matter what’s under your shirt. I-I love you, Eddie. Did you forget that?”

“No,” he murmured, voice strained.

“Good,” you said. “Because I do. Munson, I love you so much it drives me insane. Literally insane. Insane enough that I dove head first into a hellish dimension and took on an army of bats with a lighter, a can of hairspray, and a busted shoulder.”

Eddie cracked a smile at that, his eyes going soft as melted chocolate. “My warrior princess.”

“Damn straight,” you huffed before you grew serious again. “But I love you, Eddie. Love the way you are so passionate about everything, be it DnD or learning a new song on the guitar. I love the way you’re always looking to make someone smile, someone laugh, or feel included. And I love how fiercely loyal you are, even to the point of stupidity. So nothing about you could ever be ugly. Especially not your scars. Because those scars mean y-you’re still with me, still alive. I’m, fuck, I’m so goddamn grateful for those scars, Munson.”

Your voice grew rough with tears, the backs of your eyes burning, and Eddie’s face twisted.

“Fuck, Obi, no, don’t cry. Come here.” He quickly gathered your naked body up in his arms, and then he half-carried, half-dragged you up the bed until you were both settled against the headboard. “Shhhh. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m such an idiot.”

“No, no, you’re not,” you argued, rubbing your face into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you. He sighed into your hair, the sound tortured, and you knew you needed to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe a little. Sometimes. But not right now.”

“Ah, so the truth comes out.”

You snorted as you wiped your eyes against his hoodie and lifted your head off his shoulder, and Eddie immediately brushed back the hair hanging in your face. The two of you were settled on your sides—you, on your right, and him on his left— and his other hand, the one not in your hair, was wrapped around your back. His fingers trailed over your spine, spreading shivers, and you flushed a little when you remembered you were naked. You were naked, thighs still tacky with your release, and one of your legs was slotted between his.

“Sorry, again,” Eddie murmured as his eyes roamed over your face. “For, you know, ruining the mood and making you cry.”

You shook your head before you leaned up, pressing your lips chastely to his.

“Stop apologizing,” you said. “If anyone ruined the mood, it was me, the crybaby.”

Eddie smirked, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “A very cute crybaby.”

You nipped at his thumb in retaliation, but when you felt his breath hitch, you flicked your thumb across the pad before drawing the whole digit into your mouth. Eddie stopped breathing completely then, and his eyes darkened as they stared intently at where your lips were wrapped around his thumb.

You sucked in briefly, hollowing your cheeks, and something twitched against your thigh from where it was wedged between his.

“Shit, Obi—” Eddie started, then hissed when you rocked your thigh into his crotch.

“I still haven’t made you feel good,” you whispered once you released his thumb with a pop. “Can I, Eddie? Please?”

“Fuck, how am I supposed to say no to that?” he groaned before he captured your mouth with his. When he pulled away, he was breathing hard, muttering against your lips as he rocked against your thigh. “Asking so sweetly, almost as sweet as you taste. Fuck, I love you, Obi. You know that, right? Tell me you know that.”

“I know, I know, love you, too,” you gasped and pressed your naked body against him, losing yourself in his kisses for a moment before you pulled away. He chased after you with a whine, but you placed your hand on his chest and pressed him back into the pillows propped up against the headboard. “But let me take care of you this time, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and then exhaled shakily as you carefully straddled his lap. “F-Fucking-- Christ, you’re so beautiful, Obi.”

“Mmmm, you, too,” you hummed and pecked a quick kiss against his lips. Then you leaned back a little, met his eyes, and took the hem of his hoodie between your fingers. “Let me see you?”

Eddie bit his lip and looked a little hesitant, but after a moment, he nodded.

You smiled and gave him another kiss. “Thank you.”

Even though he’d given you consent, you still took it slow as you worked the hoodie up over his chest and tossed it to the side. Eddie flicked his hair out of his eyes as his hands settled tentatively on your waist, and you ducked to press your lips against the tip of his nose.

“Hi, there, handsome,” you said, reveling in the slight flush that spread across his lightly freckled cheeks. You traced the spreading red hue with your lips, then your tongue, shifting as you trailed across his jaw and down his neck.

“Obi,” Eddie rasped as his fingers flexed around your waist.

“Shhhh.” You dipped your tongue into his collarbone like he had done to you earlier. “Unless you want me to stop, just lie back and let me make you feel good. Do you want me to stop, Eddie?”

“N-No, fuck, no,” he stuttered, tilting his neck back to give you more room.

You smiled against his skin and sucked a quick hickey into the base of his throat, causing him to moan, but then you pulled away and shuffled backwards so you were kneeling more over his knees than his thighs. Eddie’s fingers slipped from your waist as you sat up more fully, and you felt him stiffen slightly below you as you gazed down at his bare chest.

You were careful to keep you face completely neutral, but your heart ached inside your chest for the boy beneath you. You’d seen glimpses of him shirtless before, usually when he spilled something on himself while you two were getting high at his trailer, and he stumbled around his room half-naked to look for a semi-clean shirt. So, the long, pale expanse of his torso wasn’t necessarily new to you. You even knew all of his tattoos by heart, mostly because he loved showing them off. There were the bats, the wyvern, and the puppet master on his right arm, on his forearm, tricep, and inside of his wrist respectively. Then there was the black widow spider below his left collarbone and the skull of a demon below the spider, just above his heart.

Except both the spider and the demon were unrecognizable now.

Eddie’s chest and abdomen were covered in ropy scars, pink and knotted and barely healed. Slashes marred the tattoos on his chest, so the images were dissected and distorted. But the scars on his stomach— above his right hip and below the left side of his ribcage— were worse. These scars were more jagged, both from the demo-bats’ teeth, and from where you’d burned him with a serrated knife to cauterize his wounds. The skin there was more red than pink, and you frowned as you ghosted your fingers over the raised lines, almost but not quite touching.

“Obi?” Eddie asked, and the quiet timidness in his voice snapped you out of it.

You flicked your eyes up to find him starting at you with his lip caught between his teeth, and the tinge of fear in his eyes made your throat tight again, but you shoved it down.

“I was right,” you said instead. “Still as beautiful as ever, Munson. Truly, it’s a little unfair.”

“I-I think that’s my line, sweetheart,” he scoffed, but a small smile tugged at his lips, so shy and endearing that you had to crawl up his body again to kiss him.

Eddie opened his mouth to your tongue, groaning when your naked body brushed against his. For a second, you were worried you’d hurt him, but then his kiss turned more bruising, and one of his hands came up to grope your breasts, tweaking at your nipple and causing you to groan this time.

“S-Shit, how are you so goddamn soft everywhere?” he gasped against your lips. “My hands must feel like f-fucking sandpaper.”

“No,” you moaned as your pressed into his left hand, his rings cold against the hot flesh of your breast. “Your hands feel s-so good… but stop distracting me, Munson.”

You pulled back and pouted at him, and before he could stop you, you started kissing your way down his neck again. This time, you didn’t stop at his collarbones, and you hovered over him reverently as you oh so softly dragged your lips over his scars.

“So handsome,” you muttered, pressing a kiss to his sternum. “So fucking handsome, baby. Love you so much. Every bit of you.”

“Fuck, O-Obi,” Eddie whimpered above you, and you felt him buck his hips.

You didn’t want to torture or overstimulate him too much, so you continued down his torso, pausing only briefly to dip your tongue into his bellybutton and run it across his happy trail. When you got to the buckle of his belt, you glanced up at him, finding him staring back at you with eyes as wild as his hair.

“Is it okay if I keep going?” you asked as you reached for his belt.

Eddie bobbed his head sporadically but then seemed to swallow and find his words. “Yes. Christ, yes, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, pretty boy,” you parroted his earlier words back at him. It was supposed to be a joke, but you saw the breath hitch in his chest, and you felt his cock twitch beneath your fingers.

Oh. He seemed to like a little praise. This knowledge made you throb, and you filed it away to use later.

Instead, you focused your attention on opening his belt and jeans, and you immediately started working both his pants and boxers down his thighs. Eddie lifted his hips to help you, and after a brief tug, his cock sprang out and slapped against his belly, causing him to moan.

You quickly shoved the rest of his clothes down his legs, and Eddie kicked them off before you knelt in the V between his thighs.

“Christ,” you breathed. It was one of Eddie’s favorite words, and it was the only thing you could think of as you stared at his straining cock.

You admittedly hadn’t seen many dicks in your life, but his was by far the prettiest. Were dicks supposed to be pretty? Because his sure was. It stretched out maybe seven inches, arching towards his belly button, and the girth of it made saliva pool in your mouth. At the base sat a bush of dark brown curls even more wild than the hair on his head, and at the tip was a little mushroom cap, beading with pearly fluid.

“I-Is that a good, um, Christ?” Eddie asked nervously.

Instead of answering, you leaned down and licked up the underside of his cock, pausing at the tip to lap at his precum, and Eddie cried out, his hips leaping off the bed.

“Mmmm, you taste as good as you look, Munson,” you sighed and licked your lips. Then you shifted, positioning yourself flat on your stomach between his legs, your own kicking up into the air behind you. Eddie’s thighs tensed when you slid your hands across them, one snaking further up his pelvis to grip the base of his cock and tilt it toward you.

“Ohhhh, son of a—” Eddie whimpered as his shaft throbbed in your hand. It was warm, and softer than you imagined, and you couldn’t stop yourself from sticking out your tongue and swirling it around his head.

“I’m not exactly an expert at this, either,” you confessed, feathering a kiss under his mushroom shaped head. “So tell me if you do or don’t like something.”

“Obi,” he gritted out with his head pressed back into the pillows and his eyes tightly shut. “I can’t even fuckin’ look at you right now because I’m on the edge of losing my absolute shit. Y-You could probably just sit there like that for a minute, and it would be enough.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You smirked, feeling high off the power you held over this man. And from the weed, too, if you were being honest.

Then, before he could say a single thing in retort, you fitted your lips over the head of his cock and sunk halfway down.

Eddie wordlessly shouted as he thrashed, and you had to use one of your hands to press his hips back into the mattress. The other you used to grip the base of his shaft, and you pumped softly as you swirled your tongue around the portion in your mouth. His skin tasted a little salty but clean, and the smell of him was more pungent here, muskier. It drove you a little crazy, and you felt drool dripping past your lips as you slowly started to bob your head.

“Fuckkkkk, Obi, holy shit, t-that feels—” Eddie broke off with a whine, and suddenly his fingers were tangling in your hair. He didn’t push your head down, though, just held you there as he twitched his hips upward, his shaft throbbing against your tongue.

After letting him shallowly thrust for a minute, you pulled back until his head popped free of your mouth, but you didn’t go far, pressing kisses to his tip and using the saliva running down his shaft to lubricate your still-pumping hand.

“God, you’re so hard, Eddie,” you muttered absently, feeling him throb between your fingers. “Does this feel good?”

“Ohhh, so good, so fucking good, you have no idea how good,” he babbled as his fingers scratched pleasantly against your scalp.

“Hmmm, excellent,” you hummed and licked at his leaking head like a lollipop. “Because I want to make you feel as incredible as you made me feel.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re already— AHH!” he cried out, voice cracking, as you suddenly took him in your mouth again and deepthroated him.

You gagged a little, eyes stinging, as he hit the back of your mouth, but your breathed in through your nose and swallowed, feeling the walls of your throat cinch around the head of his cock.

“Shit!” Eddie’s voice rose an octave, taking on a panicked pitch, and then he was suddenly, frantically, yanking at your hair. “F-Fuck, Obi! Stop, shit, stopstopstop!”

You immediately pulled your head back, his dick sliding out of your lips with a wet slurp. Your breathing was ragged as your looked up to find him in a half-seated position, his face contorted and eyes closed, and your stomach immediately churned.

“A-Are you okay?” you rasped, your voice hoarse but concerned. “Fuck, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You used your arms to push yourself up and away from his pelvis, until you were kneeling again between his thighs. Eddie panted as he slowly collapsed back onto your pillows, and one of his hands came up to push the damp bangs out of his face while the other flopped across his hips.

“Eddie?” you prompted when he didn’t answer, and finally he cracked open a single eye and tilted his head to look at you.

“You… didn’t hurt me,” he muttered, and he still sounded a little breathless. “I just— fuck, that felt so good, sweetheart. Too good. I, um, almost… ya know, i-in your mouth.”

“Oh.” You smiled, your concern melting away as your desire reignited. “You could have, you know. That was kind of the goal, Munson.”

Eddie exhaled shakily, and you saw his dick twitch where it laid against his stomach, still red and slick with your spit.

“Jesus Christ, don’t say stuff like that, Obi,” he breathed, and he reached down to squeeze the base of his cock. “I-I don’t want to… finish… in your mouth. This time.”

The ‘this time’ made the heat in your gut travel up into your chest, and your smile widened at the implication that he planned to do this again. Because you wanted to do it over and over, for the rest of forever. Until you got sick of it, though you didn’t think that was possible.

You’d only gotten a taste, and yet you knew you were quickly becoming addicted to Eddie Munson.

“Oh, really?” you asked with a smirk, slinking up his body until you were straddling his lap. Your pussy hovered right over his cock, but you stayed hovering above him as you met his glassy gaze. “Where do you want to finish then, Munson? What do you want?”

Eddie’s hands settled against your hips, and his eyes were wide as he gazed up at you with naked adoration etched across his face.

“I-Inside,” he stuttered and then swallowed as his fingers tightened around your hips. “God, Obi, I want to be inside you so fuckin’ bad, I— t-there’s a condom, in my jeans. Can I— let me grab it.”

“Since when have you started carrying around a condom in your pocket?” you teased.

“Since I started waking up every day with your ass pressed against my morning wood,” Eddie said, making your pussy throb, and he patted your naked thigh as he twitched beneath you. “Come on, let me up, it’ll only take a second.”

“Actually…” You bit your lip as you placed one of your hands on his sternum and gently pressed him back down into the bed. “I was thinking… y-you’re clean, since you’ve never, um, been with anyone. And I’ve only, uh, d-done this once, and I’ve been tested since then. Also, I’ve… been on birth control for years now, it helps to regulate my cyc— never mind. What I’m trying to say is we don’t need a condom… if that’s alright with you?”

You didn’t know where you found it in you to be embarrassed after everything you and Eddie had already done together, but your cheeks flushed with heat all the same. You were still hovering over Eddie’s lap, but that quickly changed when he suddenly lunged out and yanked you down onto his chest. You squeaked in surprise, barely able to catch yourself by bracing your hands on the bed beside his shoulders, but then Eddie was devouring your mouth, teeth and tongue and hands everywhere.

You moaned as his fingers skimmed up your sides, detouring to your breasts and nipples for a moment before they continued upwards to cup your face. His tongue swiped across yours one last time before he ripped himself away, and he panted against your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“That’s… holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” he whimpered as he bucked up beneath you, and the brush of his bare dick on your wet folds punched a groan from your chest. “Obi, Christ, Obi, I need to be inside you. Fuck, please, I just— I’m gonna die if I’m not inside you in the next thirty seconds.”

“I already told you once, you’re not dying on me, Munson,” you said, snaking a hand down between your torsos to grasp the base of his cock.

Eddie whined again at your touch, but it was nothing compared to the strangled sound he made when you notched the head of his dick against your dripping cunt. You sat up a little to get the angle right, but then you paused and smiled at the tense, panting man beneath you.

“Love you, Eddie. I love you so goddamn much.”

“Fuck, I love you, too, sweetheart, I— OH!”

He broke off with a shout as you pushed your hips down, popping the head of his dick past your entrance. The stinging stretch made your eyes roll back into your head, and a guttural groan echoed up your throat as your slowly sank down, inch by inch, onto his cock.

“S-Shit, Eddie,” you whined once you sat in the cradle of his pelvis. Your walls ached and fluttered as they tried to accommodate him, and it felt like he was lodged all the way up in your chest. The first and last guy you’d been with definitely hadn’t felt like this.

“Fuckkkk,” Eddie practically sobbed out, and his nails dug into the skin of your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. But he managed to lift his head from where he’d thrown it back into the pillows, and his hazy, unfocused eyes found yours. “Christ on a fucking crutch. A-Are you okay, Obi? You’re so goddamn tight.”

“It’s cuz you’re f-fucking big,” you shot back, your voice a little breathless as you gently settled your palms against his belly, careful to avoid the worst scars. The stretch of him inside you still ached a little bit, but it was beginning to fade, and you slowly rocked your hips against his.

You moaned at the dual sensation of him moving inside your pussy while his pubes tickled your clit, and Eddie cursed again as his fingers clamped down around your waist.

“Wait, s-stop, stop,” he suddenly hissed, and you froze above him, lifting your hands off his stomach.

“Sorry, did I—” you started to ask, but Eddie quickly shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No, you just feel too goddamn good. Again.” Eddie laughed shakily before he took a deep breath and let it out slow. Then he opened his eyes, and he smiled up at you sheepishly. “Sorry. You’re just… so fuckin’ beautiful, and I’m on a virgin hair trigger here, and—”

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you cut him off with a smile, reaching down to pry one of his hands off your hips so you could press a kiss to his fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. Do you feel good right now?”

“Good doesn’t even fuckin’ scratch the surface, sweetheart,” he breathed out, and when you released his hand, it immediately fell to one of your breasts, brushing over your nipple. “This is quite literally the best goddamn day of my life. Don’t know how it could get better from here.”

“I think I have an idea.” You smirked before you leaned down and slanted your mouth over his, rolling your hips in the process.

Eddie’s groan was muffled by your tongue, and you whimpered along with him as you lifted a few inches up his shaft before sitting right back down. You swirled your hips with him rooted deep inside you, and his hands ghosted up your spine, pressing you against him.

The two of you rocked together as you kissed, but you needed air eventually, so you tore your lips away, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder as you gasped for breath.

With his lips free, Eddie took to babbling, and every word out of his mouth just made you drip and clench around his cock.

“O-Oh, fuck, baby, you feel sooo good, so goddamn good. So wet and-- Fuck! Squeezing me so tightly. Christ, you’re driving me insane, I can’t even t-think. My brain is on fucking fire-- god! Obi. S-Shit, Obi, w-wait. I’m sorry, wait, waitwait.”

You froze midroll and whimpered as his cock brushed that special spot inside you. Eddie panted as he clutched you to him, but after a moment, he slowly relaxed into the sheets, and you carefully propped yourself up on your hands.

“Sorry,” Eddie muttered as he blinked up at you.

“I told you, you have nothing to apologize for,” you reminded him with a smile, but he still looked so contrite, so you clenched around him, rising up a little and sinking back down so he could hear the wet noises coming from between your bodies. “Hear that? That’s because you turn me on so much, Ed. You’re the one making me so wet. I could probably just sit here on your cock and cum without either of us moving. That’s how good you feel inside me.”

“Goddamn it, Obi,” he gritted out as he clenched his eyes shut again, his hands clutching at the top of your thighs. “I’m trying not to cum here, and you’re not helping.”

“But I want you to cum,” you said, sitting up fully and starting to rock on his cock again. From this angle, you could almost feel him in the back of your throat, and you tossed your head back as you settled your palms against his belly and rode him in slow but deep movements. “I, ah, want you to cum deep inside me, pretty boy. Want— fuck, want to feel it.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie hissed and bared his teeth. Then his hands wrapped around your hips again, guiding you a little bit faster. “S-Shit. I— Can you cum again? Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Fuck, I want that so bad. What can I do?”

“Touch me,” you gasped. The coil in your gut was tightening again, wound tighter and tighter by the insistent press of his cock deep inside you.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” he groaned, shifting his left hand from your hip, and the cold bite of his metal rings against your heated and swollen clit made you cry out.

“Eddie!” You jolted further up his cock than you had been, and you were so slick that you just slid right back down, your ass meeting his pelvis with a wet slap. The head of his cock knocked against something inside you that made you see stars, and suddenly you were bouncing on his dick, rapid and wild, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuck! Oh, god, oh, Christ, O-Obi, Obi, I’m— shit, I’m cumming.” Eddie’s voice rose into a high-pitched whine, his fingers and rings blindly bumping against your clit, his hips bucking off the bed to meet yours. “I’m cumming, fuck, cum with me, cum with me, baby, please!”

“Yes, cum inside me!” you sobbed as he snapped his hips up into yours, and your third orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. “Eddie!”

You felt his cock thob in the tight clutch of your walls moments before you were filled with the warmth of his cum, and the sensation heightened your own climax. Your whole body spasmed, lightning in every nerve, and you only distantly felt Eddie tug you down onto his chest, his tongue invading your mouth, his sobs and curses muffled by your lips.

The two of you rolled and writhed against each other as you rode out your climaxes, but eventually your thighs burned too much, so you just collapsed limp on Eddie’s chest while he thrust up into you a few more times. You whimpered from oversensitivity and the aftershocks of your orgasm, and your brain felt like slush between your ears when Eddie finally gasped, shuddered, and stilled beneath you.

A long moment stretched by in silence as you both caught your breath and returned to your bodies, but Eddie was the first to stir, his hand feathering up your spine. It tickled slightly, so you involuntarily clenched, and then you both groaned as you tightened around his softening cock.

“Fuckkkkkk.” Eddie laughed, his chest rumbling beneath you, and his palm pressed flat between your shoulder blades. “That was… holy shit. I… I think I might have died. I think this might actually be heaven.”

“Why do you keep trying to die on me?” you grumbled as you lifted your head off his shoulder and pouted at him.

“’M not trying to, baby.” Eddie smiled and cupped your cheek, but then he bit his lip, his dark-brown eyes searching your face. “Was that… okay… for you?”

You blinked at him. And then again. “Munson. Did you not just make me cum three times?”

He blushed, but his smile was equal parts sheepish and proud. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Damn right you did,” you sighed, wincing as a cramp started up in your thigh. “But, um, I need to… dismount now. Leg cramp.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, let me—” Eddie paused and glanced down at where you were still connected, and then his eyes darted from side to side, searching. “My shirt, I—”

“Too slow,” you groaned, and you pulled up without warning.

His half flaccid cock slid out of you with a wet sound, and both of you whined. You could feel something start to trickle out of you and onto your inner thigh, but you just flopped onto your back, Eddie scooting over to make room for you against the headboard.

“Sorry,” you hissed as you stretched your legs out, pointing your toes. “Couldn’t wait. Damn Charlie horse.”

“Want me to rub it?” Eddie asked, and he shifted partially onto his side next to you.

“No, it’s fading, I’m okay,” you sighed, relaxing into the bed and turning your head to look at him. But he wasn’t looking at you. No, his eyes were glued to the inside of your thighs, and when you followed his gaze, you blushed. Your skin was wet, glistening in the light of the bed side lamp, and you could feel more wetness seeping out of you and onto the covers.

Oh, well. You needed to wash the sheets anyway. Thankfully, you had spares for tonight.

“Eddie,” you muttered when he just kept staring, and you tried to close your legs, but he suddenly reached out and stopped you, his fingertips pressing into the tacky skin of your thighs.

“No, wait… can I…” He trailed off as he glanced at you, and you wanted to tell him no, were already squirming with embarrassment, but you found yourself nodding yes.

Yes to whatever he wanted.

Eddie smiled before he scootched down the bed a little, and then he was pressing your thighs open, his fingers brushing against your sopping folds and spreading them apart.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he gaped at your swollen pussy, and you moaned, walls fluttering, pushing out another glob of his cum. “Goddamn, you look…”

He trailed off again, and you felt his thumb swipe up your slit, collecting his cum, before he slotted it back inside you.

“Ah!” you gasped, the sound transforming into a moan and then a whimper. You closed your thighs around his wrist and arched your back, trying to scoot away. “Eddie, s-sensitive.”

“Oops, sorry.” He immediately withdrew his thumb, but he paused a moment to inspect the slick glint of your combined juices on his skin.

You reached for his hand without thinking, meeting his wide eyes as you pulled his thumb to your mouth. Gently, you wrapped your lips around him, swiping your tongue over the pad of his digit. The taste was salty and tangy but not bad, and your eyelashes fluttered a little as you hollowed your cheeks.

When you released him, Eddie exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath, and then he was swooping down to kiss you again. His tongue stabbed into your mouth, chasing the remnants of your combined flavors, and you moaned as you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down to lie half on top of you.

“Whoa,” Eddie laughed against your lips. Then he pulled away to stabilize himself so he didn’t fall off the bed or crush you. “Careful there, Obi. I might trip, fall, and end up with my dick inside you again.”

You giggled at the corny joke and pecked another kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“You are so evil,” Eddie groaned as he wrapped his arms around you, trapping your own against his chest. “Evil, evil Obi.”

“Muhahaha,” you murmured sleepily, settling against him. But then your eyes fluttered open, and you saw the scars inches away from your nose. Tentatively, you traced your fingertips down the pink, ropy tissue, and when Eddie tensed slightly, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the remnants of his spider tattoo. “I didn’t hurt you, though, did I?”

“Princess, what you made me feel was the opposite of pain,” Eddie sighed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You made me feel… fucking fantastic. Is it weird if I thank you? Because I feel like I should thank you. You know what, I’m doing it. Thank you, Obi. Thank you for rocking my goddamn world.”

“You’re welcome.” Giggling, you pressed another kiss to another scar. “And thank you, Munson. I… I love you.”

“Fuck, I love you, too,” he breathed as he placed his fingers under your chin and tilted your face up. His lips brushed over your so sweetly, and his opposite hand traced idle patterns against the bare skin of your back.

When he pulled back, he was smiling that smile you loved so much— the one that crinkled the lines around his eyes and made his dimples stand out— and there was a hint of mischief in his chocolate brown eyes.

“Now, what do you say to us rolling another joint, raiding your kitchen, and going round two?” Eddie smirked.

“I think…” you said with a smile, tickling your fingers against his chest until he giggled and pulled back. “That you better hurry up and get rolling, Munson.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and smacked another kiss against your lips before clambering out of bed.

You laughed at his overexaggerated hurried pace, the way he kept glancing at the clock on your nightstand with increasing faux-worry. He somehow managed to roll another joint without spilling anything, and you felt your breath hitch a little as you watched him lick it closed.

Yeah, you were definitely addicted to Eddie Munson now.

But you didn’t really see the problem with that.

[familyvideostevie]

hi can I request a steve x fem reader where Steve just noticed every single detail about reader (how she skips a commercial that has sad dogs in shelters because she genuinely suffers if she sees a sad or homeless dog, how she always picks her nails when she’s anxious, stuff like that) and it’s just so special to her because literally no one else had noticed those little things.

this is so cute i made myself sad writing this bc i want steve. hope you like it! | 0.9k, fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff

Steve isn't the fastest to the answer or the one to put the pieces together, and he knows that. But he's gotten really good at watching and paying attention. He knows that Dustin hates tomatoes and Robin never double knots her shoelaces until he reminds her. He knows that Max likes when Lucas hooks his fingers through her belt loops but doesn't make a big deal about it. He knows that Mike always calls El when it rains. Hell, he even knows which brand of juice box Erica prefers and keeps them in his fridge.

So, it's only par for the course that Steve spends a lot of time watching and learning you. He did that before you were together, but now it's different because you're his. And he's yours. And he really doesn't think it's a big deal, that it's something worth talking about until you come over one day looking sadder than he's ever seen you.

"Hey pretty girl," he says. You don't even hesitate before going in for a hug. "Oof. You okay?"

"Hi Steve," you mumble into his shirt. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." He rubs his hands over your spine. "Tell me what's up?"

"Am I boring?" Steve's brain skids to a halt. What?

"What?" He pulls back from you, hands on your shoulders. He realizes that you don't look sad, actually. You look like you're thinking hard about something, brows scrunched and nose wrinkled. You let go of him and fill up a glass of water at the sink.

"You can be honest," you say. Your hand is clenched on the counter top. "I can take it."

"I...think I'm missing something here." Steve doesn't know where you've gotten this idea and he wants to figure it out so he can hunt them down and...wag his finger in their face, or something. "Who said that? Did someone tell you that?"

"Doesn't matter who said it, Steve," you sigh. "Is it true?" Steve moves behind you and puts a hand on your lower back, fingers splayed so his pinky sneaks under the hem of your shirt to touch your bare skin. Your whole body relaxes, just a little bit, but that's all he needs.

"C'mon," he urges. "Fill me in. You know I'm slow." That gets your attention, your head whipping over to glare at him.

"Steve. You're not slow."

"And you're not boring." You roll your eyes at him and turn so his hand rests on your stomach as you lean against the sink.

"The new girl at the store was talking about all the stuff she does for fun. She's on a roller derby team, she volunteers at the library, she lived in France for a year. And I thought about what I do and what I like and I...couldn't think of anything."

"So you decided you're boring because you haven't been to France?" Steve honestly doesn't see what's happening. "Still confused over here." You groan and move away from him and he can't bring himself to be embarrassed about the sound he makes now that he's not touching you.

"There's nothing special about me!" you cry, all of a sudden incensed. You pace, hands in your hair in agitation. "I'm just...some girl. I work at a bookstore and I don't have interesting hobbies and I'm boring." Well, that won't do. Steve lets you pace, but he's not about to let you say those things about yourself.

"When you wake up you always stretch like a cat and then crack your neck," he says. You stop in your tracks and look at him like he's speaking gibberish. "You pick at your cuticles when you're anxious and you drum your fingers in a little pattern when you have a song stuck in your head."

"Steve--" He holds his hand out and starts to count on his fingers.

"You dog-ear the pages of your books but won't annotate them because it's 'vandalism,' you tug on your seatbelt just once after buckling it, and you always squat down whenever you talk to a kid."

"Are these interesting? Steve, come on --" He plows on, moving closer to you with each thing he says.

"You always know when Robin gets too nervous and you hold her hand to give her courage. You make Max new mixtapes every month. You write Will letters." He cups your face and plants a kiss for each thing he says, forehead, cheek, cheek, nose. "You eat popcorn at the movies one kernel at a time. You always smile when you see a butterfly. You hate wearing socks to bed unless they're mine. You wrinkle your nose after you sneeze like it's your first time sneezing."

"Those are just silly things, Steve," you whisper, eyes downcast.

"No, they're you," he says, tapping your chin so you'll look at him. "Nothing about you is silly."

"I can't believe you noticed all that." You lean in to kiss him just once, a sweet, quick thank you. "No one ever has before."

"Of course I did. You're interesting. Like a science experiment or something, I swear." You laugh and he relishes the sound. "Seriously. That's what makes people interesting. All the small stuff."

"I don't know --"

"I do. Everyday I learn something new about you. And I get to do that forever. What's more interesting than that?" You close your eyes and he kisses the soft skin of your lids.

"God, Steve. How do you come up with this stuff?" He smirks, pleased.

"I practice in front of the mirror." You groan at his joke, surging forward to kiss him for real this time.

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete

want to be added to my tag list? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

[impostoradult]

I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)

I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me: 

- the queer-baiting - the bury your queers - the undermining of Dean’s character arc  - the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure - the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles

 All of that bothers me tremendously. 

But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up. 

*** This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out) 

But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday. 

I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered? 

Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all. 

***

A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).

One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™. 

Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)

Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written. 

But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this. 

And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER. 

I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:

There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV. 

Not ever.  

I can’t think of ONE example  Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna. 

Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.

That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes. 

***

Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing. 

And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct. 

There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.

A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough). 

B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough). 

C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough). 

D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough). 

But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging. 

Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents. 

All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely. 

But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!) 

Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail. 

***

Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place. 

And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.  

Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.

That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.  

But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again. 

All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime. 

So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn. 

***

Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:

1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)

2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder) 

3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings

[bowiebond]

Hey Babe, Your Hair’s Alright (Hey Babe, Let’s Stay Out Tonight) - Chapter 2

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39597543/chapters/99122538

Summary: After Eddie is humiliated at graduation by the town who still believes him to be the murderer, he breaks. He recluses. Steve isn't taking his shit for a second, and he's not letting Eddie's fire burn out.

CW: Depression, Lack of Hygiene, very slight disordered eating, Minor Drinking, Self Esteem Issues.

Eddie doesn’t hear the knock at first. He’s become used to tuning out his Uncle’s presence, tucked into the divot he’s made in the mattress. His Uncle has given him some leniency; he’s seen how Eddie reacts over the years to being forced out of his slumps, though they had grown fewer and fewer over time.

They usually didn’t last more than a week, but Wayne had a dreadful knot forming in his stomach every time he had to send those insistent teenagers away. Gareth had understood when Wayne told him Eddie needed space, knowing not to question the days when Eddie wouldn’t come to school at all but show up at practice with a tired smile and a languidness to his notes. He never asked and Eddie never said, but Gareth knew Eddie would laugh it off if he did.

Dustin and Mike were a little pushier, Dustin fuming besides his friend who pleaded with big dark eyes. If Wayne were a weaker man, he may have let them in, but a bunch of kids fussing and making noise in Eddie’s space was not what his boy needed.

Robin had been a snarky, worried mess when Wayne said Eddie wasn’t feeling their movie night on day six. But after catching her eye, standing firm, she deflated and asked him to pass on that she’d be by next week the same time and he better be ready to hang out properly. Wayne promised and she left with a slump in her shoulders.

When day eight rolls around, Wayne wonders if its time to try and rouse the young man, to remind him he has a show at the Hideout two nights from now with his band, the one he usually does every Tuesday, and that he shouldn’t miss it again.

He expects that maybe Eddie will argue with him like he did as a young teen, so full of hormones, but he just stares at him with blank brown eyes and says nothing as Wayne tries to convince him to get up, to eat more. He knows he’s not making contact and can only really sigh when Eddie rolls over and pulls the blanket back over his head.

Eddie was...a special boy. That much he knew. A sensitive boy beneath all the bravo.

So Wayne says goodbye and heads to work, leaving a tenner on the bench in case Eddie wants to leave the house and grab food - though he doubts it. The kid never takes his money anyway, hasn’t dared to since he started making his own pocket money with that rusted old lunchbox of his.

“You barely make enough to scrape by as it is, Uncle, I can take care of myself. Hell, one day I’ll be famous and take care of you, got it?”

Eddie rolled over in his bed and felt his muscles ache from disuse, stretching and promptly sinking back into his pillow. It was easier to sleep through the days then to get up and do stuff. And maybe the constant sleeping only made him sleepier, groggier, but he didn’t care.

Eddie jumped when the knocking got louder, closer, rising his head with a loud groan, glaring at his door. Couldn’t people get the hint? He wasn’t home. He didn’t care if his car was parked out front or his body laying inside this piece of shit trailer, he didn’t have energy to be home and people should respect that.

“Munson, open this goddamn window!” Eddie’s head whipped around in alarm towards the window above his bedside table, Steve Harrington’s perfectly dumb face peaking through the murky plastic window.

“Steve?” He groaned, head throbbing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He rubbed a hand down his face and pushed his greasy hair from his face. He felt gross, and he probably looked it, and why the hell is Steve Harrington here?

He was tempted to just lay back down and ignore the man, but Steve smacked the window with his palm and pointed at him like a scolding mother, like he knew what he was thinking.

“You open this window right now, I can see you, Munson.” Eddie sighed, long and heavy before forcing himself to sit up properly and stretch his arms across his dresser to unlock the window and pull it up - though Steve seemed to be impatient since he did most of the pushing on the jammed up junk. It only got about half way up before refusing to budge, but it was enough to see Steve’s face clearly. His swooping hair, his furrowed brows, the slight parting of pink lips and the wayward dotted moles on his left cheek and down his neck.

Eddie feels like rotten garbage compared to Steve right now and it’s not helping his self esteem.

“Where the hell have you been, man? You’ve been off the grid for like a week and I only just found out from Dustin.” Steve’s concerned eyes fell to his window sill, hands grasping the edge. He looked like he was contemplating jumping in through his window and Eddie knocked his hands off it.

“Don’t even think about it, you’ll take my whole damn wall with you.”

“Then open the front door next time.” Steve sassed with a quirked brow and an unimpressed purse to his lips.

“Look, I don’t wanna deal with this right now, man, can you just...leave me to wallow in my tarnished pride?” Eddie gestured for him to leave, back to his fancy car and away from Eddie’s grossness.

“I’m not leaving.” Steve crossed his arms, stubborn as a mule. “I heard one of your band mates talking about how you blew off one of their shows last week, and then your Uncle won’t let Dustin check in on you, and you totally bummed out Robin by ditching the movie night you guys have had planned for like two weeks!”

“Yeah well, people are disappointing.” He rolled his eyes. “Surprise surprise, Harrington.“ He knows he’s being a dick, but he’s tired and oily and his headache is only getting worse. He goes to close his window but Steve grabs the frame first and he’s more determined than Eddie right now.

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t you dare close this window on me. I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on considering nobody will tell me squat, but keeps moaning over your moping to me.” Steve’s eyebrows jump up his forehead expectantly and Eddie just stares.

“...You’re not gonna leave, are you?”

“Nope. I will sit outside your door until you let me in. I don’t have work until tomorrow.” Steve shrugged, acting nonchalant.

“Jesus Christ - fine! Fine, you can come inside.” Eddie grumbled, his fingers sinking into his hair and scratching roughly at the base of his skull. With a few shakes of his hands, he got out of his bed. He was irritated now, and he made it clear in the stomps of his bare feet. He jiggled his lock and roughly yanked it open, waiting expectantly for Steve who was making a pit stop at his car. Eddie tilted his head with a ‘seriously?’ expression as he watched Steve rummage through his backseat. His eyes dipped lower to his backside and knocked his knuckle against the door frame before tearing his gaze away and smacking the frame in frustration.

Could he not be a freak for two seconds?

“Cheer up, I brought a peace offering like a good guest.” Steve showed off a carton of beer with a shameless grin, jogging up the steps of the porch and slipping past Eddie. His front brushes his arm and Eddie flexes his fist, rubbing the base of his middle finger with his thumb, aware of the rings hes missing.

“Dude. You stink.” Steve wrinkled his nose and Eddie rolled his eyes, snatching the carton from his hands.

“You’re a shit guest.” But he brought beer, and Eddie has never craved it more. Steve buys the good shit too, sparing a hearty dime on him, and it makes Eddie’s stomach flutter.

“No, man, I don’t mean to be mean, but its bad.” Steve covered his nose somewhat discreetly. “When’s the last time you showered?”

“Graduation morning.” Eddie shrugged. He can’t give an actually day count, they blurred together at the third one in bed.

“Dude, it’s been a week and a half.” Steve snatched the beer back.

“Hey!”

“Go shower, and then you can drink your sorrows down the drain.” Steve gave a pointed look to his bathroom door - because of course the guy knew where it was after sitting in his shower trying not to gain an infection from demonic bats.

“That’s so much effort...” Eddie breathed, staring at the door.

“Then you can sit in the shower like a toddler, I don’t care. But you need to wash whatever...” Steve squinted at his hair, pointing at the sticky patch that shined in the light. “...that is out of your hair.”

“Tomato.” Eddie wrinkled his nose and tried to run a hand through his hair but caught it on multiple knots. He was starting to regret not brushing it. He spent forever growing it out, it would be a shame to cut it all off because he let it get matted.

“Yeah, no, that shower is mandatory, go.” Steve patted his shoulder and steered him towards the bathroom. “I’ll grab you a towel - where do you keep them?”

“They’re under the sink, its fine.”

“Okay, good, well...” Steve stood there awkwardly, hand still on his shoulder. The silence drags on and Eddie turns his head to look at Steve’s distant expression. Steve snapped out of his daze when he noticed Eddie looking and sighed. “Are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek and forces a smile, but it comes out tired and bitter.

“Yeah. Sure, Harrington. Now get out before I hurt your ego.” Eddie thumbed the waistband of his sweats with a smirk and Steve rolled his eyes with a huff of a laugh, punching his shoulder lightly as he left Eddie to his shower.

Eddie stared at the shower as the door clicked shut behind him.

“You’re such a sad sack of shit.” He murmured to himself as he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it in the hamper, shimming out of his bottoms. There’s no warmth anymore without his armor, and the shower is cold when he steps under its spray. He lets his thick hair soak up the water, lets the past week and a half seep out of it. His headache eases and the shower heats up slowly as he scrubs his hair. He shampoos it twice before he feels semi-human, lathering it in conditioner after and letting it rest over his shoulder as he scrubs away the grease and dead skin from his body. The steam smells like vanilla and sandalwood - sweet smelling hair care and woody body wash he shares with his uncle. It feels good to be clean, even if his body is exhausted.

He shuts the water off after the fifteen minute mark - he’s usually an in and out kind of guy, but he’s reluctant to leave the warmth of the spray and steam that wraps him up like a hug.

He dried himself off with the only towel that doesn’t make him gag to touch. Not because they’re gross or anything, they’re fine, they just don’t have the right texture and he’d rather jump off a cliff than put himself through that. He’s used the same towel since he was fourteen and he refuses to toss it out even as it gets thinner.

Eddie dried off his hair roughly and wiped himself free of water, skin a rosy pink from the heat. He wrapped the towel around his waist and made quick work of brushing his teeth when he thought too long about how disgusting the inside of his mouth was. Spitting the paste out and feeling fresher, he made his way to his room, licking his lips as he watched Steve pick up his laundry.

“Dude.” He spoke up and Steve jumped, a faded band shirt in hand. He cleared his throat and tossed the shirt into Eddie’s hamper, hands finding his hips.

“Uh, sorry. Habit. Kids, you know, they- they don’t know how to pick up after themselves.” He rocked on his heels and shrugged, eyes flickering over Eddie’s body. He clapped his hands with a nervous laugh. “I’ll uh, I’ll let you get dressed, man.” He tried to step by Eddie like he had at the door, and as per usual, Eddie didn’t move out of the way like he probably should have. Steve’s hand finds his bicep and squeezes as he passes, maybe a reassurance or a nervous gesture, but Eddie appreciates the firm touch.

“Yeah...” Eddie watched Steve make his way to the living room and closed the door behind him slowly. He pushed his bangs back, still damp enough to stick out of the way as he pulled his drawer open. He dropped his towel and shucked on a pair of dark grey sweats along with a Led Zeppelin tee. Majority of his shirts were cheap ones he had made more his style with thread and scissors, or band tees he had got secondhand or saved up for. He cherished every one and wearing the bands he loved made him feel like himself.

Eddie drifted by his bedside table and picked up a ring, playing with it. Feeling the weight, the feel, trying it on and spinning the metal. One by one, he placed each ring where they belonged and gave it a spin to settle it against his skin. He scrounged around for a hair tie, wondering if he had lost his only remaining one until he found it under his tiny bookshelf that he tucked away at the end of his bed. He messily tied his hair back, ignoring the knots for now and just happy to feel it soft and fluffy again.

He took a deep breath and tore his bedroom open, making himself appear bigger and wilder than he felt.

“You better have saved me a beer, Harrington!” Steve jumped at his boisterous entrance, eyes wide as Eddie grabbed a lock of his hair, twirling and tugging, grinning as he practically spun and dipped himself onto the couch, lounging in the space besides Steve. His knee knocked against Steve’s and he began playing with his own loose strands at Steve’s bewildered expression.

“You...look better.”

“Ouch.” Eddie pouted and rubbed his chest as if he had been wounded. “I thought you came here to make me feel better, Stevie, but all you’ve done is insult me. You’ve really lost your touch.” Eddie sucked his teeth absentmindedly, eyes falling upon the beer in Steve’s hand. He heaved himself up to sit properly, stealing one from the carton by Steve’s foot. He twisted it open with the bottom of his shirt and sighed like a content man with his morning coffee.

They drank quietly, Eddie thankful for the quiet, but he could feel the tension in the atmosphere. He’d let Steve decide if he wanted to broach the topic. He got through half the bottle before Steve cleared his throat and leaned his elbow on his knee. Engaging Eddie into a conversation that hadn’t even begun yet.

“Look, I just want to know what happened. I know after the whole...Vecna thing, we didn’t really talk, not like you and Nance or you and Robin, heck even Dustin. I know we aren’t close, but like Jonathan likes to say, shared trauma bonds people. Hell, I care about you, man. A lot of us do. So when you go from making all these plans with people after it was all over to only a few weeks later not talking to anyone, skipping out on your band and your friends, we’re gonna be concerned.”

Eddie brought the lip of the beer to his mouth and held it there, not drinking but mulling over his thoughts. He sighed and let his hands fall into his lap, bottle dangling in his fingers as he tilted his head back against the couch.

“So Dustin really didn’t tell you. No one did?” He lolled his head to face Steve who only shook his head, turning to face him more. Elbow on the back of the couch, knee bumping his thigh and giving him his full attention. Hell, Eddie might have blushed. Probably did by the warmth tingling his cheeks.

He turned his face away as not to get lost in those concerned doe eyes. He stared at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. His chest felt heavy.

“Just good old school public humiliation. Got reminded that everyone in this town hates me, and that I...” Eddie swallowed through the ache, tonguing the upper right of his lip. “...really am...just a freak.” It comes out in a whisper, those last three words and he allows himself to turn his head to take in Steve’s expression, his own brown eyes big and sad.

All he gets is the most earnest response he thinks he’s ever heard out of Steve The Hair Harrington.

“You’re not a freak, Eddie.” He shakes his head subconsciously like he truly means it, baffled that Eddie would think so of himself. Somehow he gets even closer, a pained pinch in his brows. “You’re all kinds of fucking weird, but you’re not a freak. At least, not in a bad way.”

Eddie puckered his lips and moves his head away in an ‘aw shucks’ gesture.

“Flattery works wonders on me, Stevie.”

“I’m serious, man. You’re a good guy. Your freakiness saved our asses back in the Upside Down. El’s definitely not normal, you think we care? None of my friends are normal.” Steve huffed a laugh, looking away and placing his beer down on the coffee table. He placed those cool fingers on Eddie’s shoulder, encouraging the other to look him in the eye.

“You never let that shit bother you before. Why care now?”

“Because...I want people to like me.” And that’s the truth of the matter, isn’t it? He wanted people to like him when he was a kid, wanted his mother to like him, but when he realised he couldn’t have that, he threw the notion out of the window and decided he would just be himself. Loud and impulsive and nerdy. For a long time, it worked. He was able to convince the fellow losers that there was pride in being freaks.

But being on that stage, seeing how many people genuinely hated him, despised who he was, it cut too deep. Everyone wants to be liked, don’t they? Everyone wants to be loved and Eddie - Eddie isn’t sure if has ever been. If he ever will be. Sure, his Uncle loved him, but there was obligation there, his Uncle was naturally a kind person. He wouldn’t kick his own nephew onto the street.

“Eddie, people do like you.” Steve furrowed his brows, blinking in his confusion. “Your band, the kids, Nance, Robin, they all like you. They all consider you to be their friend. I just told you I think you’re great.”

“And I appreciate it.” Eddie smiled stiffly, patting Steve’s knee. “But I don’t really understand why. I get why people hate me. I don’t get why they like me though.” Eddie slowly stood up and finished off his beer in a few heavy swallows. He clanked it against the table with an exhale.

“It was nice. That you visited. But you can tell everyone I need some time away from...everything.” Eddie made a move towards his room, but Steve stands up too quickly and they collide, Steve gripping his arm.

“No.”

“No?” Eddie quirked a brow.

“No.” Steve reiterated. “You don’t get to just avoid the world because you’re sad. You think not going and doing the things you love, is going to make you happier?”

“It won’t make me happier.” Eddie admitted. “But it will be easier.”

“Tough shit. I’m not letting you wallow in that frankly disgusting room for another week and a half. You have to go to practice, you have to do another campaign, you have a movie night to attend - you have friends and promises to keep. You’re a graduate now, you have to start thinking about what you want to do, or apply for work so maybe you can take that guitar and get the hell out of this town. You have a life to live, Eddie, and you can’t waste it by holing up in this trailer forever.”

“That...was a magical speech, Harrington. Truly.” Eddie nodded his appreciation. “But I am tired. And I think I’d like to take a nap before I even think about the big, bad world.” He clapped a hand against Steve’s shoulder and stepped around him.

“Eddie-”

“A nap, man.” Eddie didn’t spare him a glance. “Lock the door behind you.” His door clicked shut and he tuned out the outside world as he crawled back into bed.

Steve doesn’t come after him, he isn’t sure how he feels about it, but it’s easier.

Everything is easier when you give up, it seems.

[robertreich]

The Anti-Family Party

Last Thursday, 39 million American parents began receiving a monthly child allowance ($300 per child under 6, and $250 per child from 6 through 17). It’s the biggest helping hand to American families in more than 85 years.

They need it. Even before the pandemic, child poverty had reached post-war records. Even non-poor families were in trouble, burdened with deepening debt and missed payments. Most were living paycheck to paycheck -- so if they lost a job, they and their kids could be plunged into poverty. It’s estimated that the new monthly child allowance will cut child poverty by more than half.

But every single Republican in both the House and Senate voted against the measure.

After I posted a tweet reminding people of this indisputable fact, Republican Senator Mike Lee of Utah responded Friday with a perfectly bizarre tweet: "If you're one of the 39 million households receiving their first Child Tax Credit payment today, don't forget that every single Democrat voted against making it larger.”

Hello? Did we just go through the funhouse mirror?

In point of fact, when the American Rescue Plan was being debated last February, Lee and Senator Marco Rubio did propose slightly larger payments. But here’s the rub: They wanted to restrict them only to “working parents.” Children of the unemployed would be out of luck. Yet those kids are the poorest of the poor. They’re most at risk of being hungry without a roof over their heads.

In a joint press release at the time, Lee and Rubio said they refused to support what they termed “welfare assistance” to jobless parents, warning against undercutting “the responsibility of parents to work to provide for their families.” Then Lee, Rubio, and every other Republican voted against the whole shebang – help for working and non-working parents. And now Lee wants to take credit for wanting to make the payments larger to begin with? Talk about both sides of the mouth.

As we move toward the gravitational pull of the midterm elections – and polls show how popular the monthly child payments are -- I expect other Republicans to make the same whopper of a claim.

But underneath this hypocritical Republican rubbish lie two important questions. The first: will a payment of up to $300 per child every month – totaling up to $3,600 per child per year – invite parents to become couch potatoes?

That seems doubtful. Even a family with three kids under six would receive no more than $10,800 a year. That’s way below what’s needed to pay even subsistence expenses, and still far below what a full-time job at the federal minimum wage would pull in.

But even if the payment caused some parents to work a bit less, it’s far from clear their children are worse off as a result. Maybe they benefit from additional parenting time. 

Which only raises a second question: should children be penalized because their parents aren’t working, or are working less than they would without the child payment?

This question has been debated in America for many years – ever since Franklin D. Roosevelt first provided “Aid for Families with Dependent Children” (AFDC) in the Social Security Act of 1935.

It can’t be decided based on facts; it comes down to values. We know, for example, that child poverty soared after Bill Clinton and congressional Republicans ended AFDC in 1996 and substituted a work requirement. Many people – myself included – look back on that decision as a horrible mistake.

But many of its proponents call it a success because it resulted in additional numbers of poor adults getting jobs and thereby setting good examples for their children of personal responsibility. In the view of these proponents, a country where more parents take responsibility to provide for their children is worth the collateral damage of a greater number of impoverished children.

Since the 1990s, the Republican view that public assistance should be limited to families with breadwinners has taken firm hold in America. Only now, with the American Rescue Plan -- put into effect during the worst public health crisis in more than a century and one of the fiercest periods of unemployment since World War II -- has that view been rejected in favor of a universal family benefit.

It’s too early to know whether this about-face is permanent. The Act’s payments will end a year from now unless Congress passes Biden’s proposed $3.5 trillion addition. Almost every Senate Democrat has signaled a willingness to go along. But here again, not a single Senate Republican has signed on.

Let’s be clear. Mike Lee’s Republican Party – the putative party of “family values” – doesn’t support needy families. It supports a pinched and, in these perilous times, unrealistic view of personal responsibility -- children be damned.

[ashleyinwondrland]

Going back an episode and watching Born This Way

Santana is such a bitch but I still love her. Also her first vest and hat combo is fucking iconic! “I gotta gay, I mean go I gotta gay” honey you are so bad at being in closet.

The way Will thinks he has the capacity to handle everyone’s problems…maybe he is the reason teacher’s need a masters in education. This just makes me think of when he said

The big deal about junior prom queen and king, when I remember in high school it basically as determined by who won homecoming. Tho senior year our prom Queen was a heavier girl, who was the sweetest and also one of the best singers! Like she deserved it!

YASSSSS my favorite song! Pretty/Unpretty is so amazing! It was a crime that Quinn and Rachel didn’t have another duet! There were like a billion opportunities! I love this song so much.

Honestly I would recap every episode just to go into missed opportunities, #1 Quinn in her ‘stank’ phase not having a punk song like Cherry Bomb by Runaways, I really believe Dianna could’ve killed it.

All the prom posters are horrible which is actually super realistic.

“The only straight I am is a straight up bitch” ICON!!

The lockers shot with Quinn and Finn was interesting, though we never see anything like that again.

Any chance for Mike Chang to have a spotlight is good with me.

Finn, just break up with Quinn! You are in love with Rachel and she is with you, just pull the bandaid off!!

This whole zero tolerance shit, I get Karofsky is badly with his own gayness, but they just aren’t handling this shit well. It reminds me of Degrassi, thankfully it ended a lot better. Kurt was great for never outing him though. I wish they had handled Karofsky better, like this show dealt with every issue they could find but never handled it well!

Now I want to cry tho with Burt telling Finn “keep an eye on your brother” then Finn saying “I’m one step ahead of you” they really became a family and I love that. It was such a growth and it made me so happy!

Super don’t care about the warblers! Shouldn’t you be at your own school?? It’s a school day and the bell literally just rang! Where did that piano come from?? And the violinists?

I hate the Lucy Caboose stuff! Like her issues couldn’t be more no out of no where, knowing that Sue caused an eating disorder for the Cheerios and idk the whole teen pregnancy stuff!? Dianna did well with it though, why isn’t she in more things? I know she is in a lot of indie movies but give me more! Also her running hallway scene is amazing, it’s always amazing when these ladies go through the hallway, it’s practically a runway!

“Is Barbara here?” “No it’s a mall in Ohio”

Yea Barbara is 1 in a million, and you would’ve been too if you weren’t a fuxking bitch.

Brittany is smart enough to make that ironic shirt but then makes the Lebanese shirt for Santana. Also saying “clearly you don’t love yourself as mch as I love you” isn’t a healthy thing for when someone is in the closet. Not that someone is wrong for not wanting to be in closet for someone else’s sake. It’s a complex thing but again Murphy & the others don’t handle it well. What was the short hand for the show runners? We used to have one

Remember when Dianna wore the Likes Girls shirt at the Glee concert tour for Born this Way and everyone including myself lost their collective shit? And then she was absent for a couple shows after? Which is super suspicious…

[soullessmocha]

i think; therefore i am || part one

{ fem! witch reader x poly!the lost boys }

|| part two ||

part rating: teen

word count: 20716 (i am so sorry)

part summary: a nomadic witch running from her dark past (reader) finds her place after travelling the states on the shores of santa carla. in a way to make money she sets up a booth on the bustling boardwalk where she gives a few readings to a couple interesting characters for some loose change. this night she discovers she isn’t the only supernatural being.

warnings: mature language, mind manipulation, violence, use of tobacco, a cute familiar, nightmares, allusions to being burned alive, witch trials, hints to major character death, visions, and the lost boys being violent (mainly david.), this has not been proof read it has merely been skimmed.

“I promise I will be good. Please mother!” You yell towards the cloaked woman who looked at you with a disdained look on features. Features you once found comforting and like home turned on you in an instant. Those soft features are now rigid and gaunt from stress and aging, but the worse link to all the features was the cobalt blue eyes. Eyes that reflected the moon so sharply that it was almost mirrored. Eyes so sharp and focused as your mother shook her in disappointment, “No, you won’t,” her words were forthright showing no emotion behind it. How did someone who you called your mother betray you and not even take a second glance? “No, no! Wait! No, I promise!” You start to trash against the rope that is wrapped around your body, confining you to a large wooden pole. Stretching your body to its breaking point as the only color you could see was red. Then it was hot, burning, seething your skin away as one of your sisters lowers a torch at your feet. Your eyes connect to the moon as your throat lashes a blood-curdling scream into the starry clear night.

Gasping for the air you shoot up from your makeshift bed, sweating coating your skin in a glossy layer. Your lungs rapidly gasp for air as they burn from your fears that have your heart racing so much it punches your ribs. A shift in the bed causes your attention to shift. Your cat, a scruffy black devon rex steals his way up the side of your bed. His head tilting before making his own way into your lap a loud purr radiating off of your pet in his best attempts to calm you. You lift a shaky hand to plop it down on the cat’s back who tenses for a quick second before stretching his paws to your chest, reminding you to breathe. A slight smile comes to your lips, “I’m fine, Finn. Really,” you sigh and rub away the hair sticking on your face from the layer of sweat on your skin. “It’s always the same nightmare.” You admit to your furry friend who makes his way to the tail end of your bed. He stretched and tipped his nose upwards as his spine curled sniffing the air as if he was trying to investigate the surrounding area. With your heart rate slowed just the slightest you pull yourself from your bed and shuffle through the hallway that leads from your bedroom to your living space in the trailer you parked on the cliff overlooking the beach. The sun was setting, casting an orange hue in your trailer, the light catchers reflecting rainbows as they twirl mindlessly from the free breeze coming through the cracked window. Peace. That was a safe haven. However, with the sun setting you realize you have taken a nap when least expected. You must’ve needed it after the first night of working on the boardwalk. Who knew reading tarot, runes, and palms to tourists would take so much energy out of you.

A sigh escapes your lips as you attempt to step around Finn to get to your closet where you pick a black outfit with an ornate shawl to help you stand out. 

“Be good and protect the home,” you kneel down to scratch Finn under his chin after you have gathered your last-minute things and open the trailer door to have it close behind you. A quiet meow echoes from behind the door and your smirk at the small goodbye from your pet. It didn’t take you long to start up your old truck with a few hits and a couple pumps for the clutch to make your way down to the boardwalk parking lot.

The night was the same as before but this time a couple of well rounded security guards started to come up to the booth later on into the evening. The wind was a bit harsher and the waves crashed in rhythm of the music that was being played on the tiny radio next to your ankle. The boardwalk was filled with all strains of life. There were well rounded individuals taking their picture perfect families for a night out to teens dressed in all black with every inch of their face covered in piercing and colored hair. You preferred that crowd. Then again it didn’t help to get money from those picture perfect families who you only give half ass readings for. When the heavy boots of the literal rounded security officers approached your booth were you snapped from your thoughts. Looking them up and down you can instantly get a feel of their energy, they were hostile and annoyed by the night already. Yet the night was still so young. 

“Excuse me, do you have a permit to be setting up your booth here?” The officer with the mustache questions shifting his weight onto one leg jutting out his hip.

“Yeah, you need a vendor permit to even set up here on the boardwalk,” the skinnier one of the couple started before picking at the cloth of your booth, studying it with a devious smirk. “You tell fortunes? Tell me how we are going to kick you off the boardwalk.” The two chuckle at the joke yet in a calm manner you stand with your hands on the ornate cloth. 

“I do tell fortunes, but not those who tend hurt others because they have a flimsy gold badge on their breast,” you start and give a rather deceiving smile as you tilt your head. “I do not have a vendor’s permit to be out here. However, I am sure you know how hard it is to make a living during these times. Surely you can give me a pass.” You suggest and the fatter one with the mustache snickered at your suggestion. The two looked at one another but as they looked back at you they were met with purple hazed eyes and fingers that were pointed at them which radiated purple energy. “Now, I hope you will listen to me,” you begin this time your voice was an octave deeper as you displayed your abilities to them. It wasn’t hard to sink into their minds and be able to control such a feeble psyche, the purple illuminating from their eyes indicated you were in. You didn’t even need to chant a hex to even get them to repeat after you, “I will not approach this vendor anymore.” They repeat and a smirk quivers on the corner of your lips, “I will not terrorize anyone who I deem… different. I will walk away now and forget I ever saw this vendor.” Once they repeat you flick your wrist the two men turn on their heels and quite literally march away to whatever other duties they have. You grumble to yourself as you sit back down pushing the skirt under you so you can sit properly on the chair. 

As you adjust your trinkets and cards on the table you can hear from afar an excited young boy's voice, “Mike! Look! It’s a fortune teller. We have to do this!”

“No Sammy, we said we would go to the concert and meet mom back at the entrance. I am not stopping for some phoney fortune teller who just reads some useless cards to tell me literally nothing.” the older voice replies back with an annoyed tone and quite ready to walk in the opposite direction. You don’t look up to give the hint you are listening, in fact you lean back in your chair starting to shuffle your tarot deck because indeed you know the two will end up before you.

“Well too bad. I came here to have fun and you’re ruining it. Live a little Mike. You’ve been grumpy all day,” pouts the young blonde, “plus I didn’t say you needed to get a reading done. i got my own money.”

“How did you get money?”

“I stole it from your wallet!” The younger one laughs and charges his way over to the booth and you make eye contact with him, his grin was wide and full of innocence. Blue eyes that were striking amongst the moonlight, they glimmered with hope and curiosity. “Dammit Sam!” the older one whom you assumed to be the brother charges behind. “Hi, how can I help you today?” You asks in your kindest customer service voice. The young boy holds out the ten dollar bill, “I would like a reading if I could have one please. Mom always told us about her tarot card readings, but I would like one for myself.” He grins to the side as he looks over his shoulder to his older brother, a brunette with a strong build who seems to already be annoyed just standing next to this booth and his brother. “Why of course, thank you! Take a seat please.” You request and glance over to the older brother, “If you’d like a seat by all means sit.” He didn’t respond, only took a glance at you before looking away. He was skeptical and nervous. Of course he was. “Normally I don’t do readings for such young gentlemen like you, but I like you already, so I will do a general reading. Now before I get started, may I have your name?”

“Sam,”

“Nice to meet you Sam, I am Y/N. Thank you once again,” you grant a thanks and start to shuffle your cards. Normally with normal individuals the cards don’t have this much energy. You give a breathy chuckle and shuffle fiercely before a card flies from the deck. You plant it face down before looking young Sam in the eyes giving him a playful smirk at his eagerness. “You two have a lot of energy for you, that’s a good thing.” You compliment but the older brother just snickers and crosses his arm before another card flies out. It didn’t take long for the third to fly out. You align the cards, “Alright let’s see here, this card represents you. The page of cups,” You smile gingerly at the card before flipping it to show the boy. “You are filled with wonder, you love your family and have a curious nature to you.” You can see the boy is looking at the card with curious eyes. Take in the fancy man holding a golden chalice balance on one foot and his heel. He is dressed in quite jarring clothes like the boy sitting in front of you. “You also love to express yourself in ways that are creative, like your fashion, or music.” You not before hovering your hand over the next card. “This card represents the path you are on," you flip over the card to see the emperor standing sitting on his throne high and mighty, “the emperor. Now this card is quite powerful, one of my favorites. You are on the path of seeking how to defend yourself and those you love. How to become more powerful in the sense of trying to find structure and to grow in your sense of logic and practicality.” At this point you didn’t even notice the older brother has now sat down. Full attention on you and the cards. You give him a wink before turning your attention back to his younger brother, “It seems like you’re trying to find a father figure role within yourself or by others.” The boys' features soften from a grin to a saddened look, that must’ve struck a bit too close for home. “Let’s continue, shall we?” You ask and he slowly nods glancing over at his brother. You carefully flip over the last card, “This card represents your potential,” your eyes glance down at the justice card. The figure holds a sword and a scale in each hand, sitting on a chair with authority as a scarlet drape is behind them. “Justice. You know what it’s like to be wronged, treated unfairly, you will have to face the truth soon. Whatever that truth is, you have to see everything from each point of view. Going back to the Emperor, you need to be logical and work on that skill in order to find your Justice. You will generate peace and harmony to those who surround you.”

“Wow, thank you, that’s- that’s awesome,” Sam thanks you leaning back in the folded chair carefully eyeing his brother who was staring diligently at the card, studying them and seeming astounded. You lean forward and tap the table under his nose. “I can do a reading for you as well, free of charge. I like your little brother. However, I would like your name.”

The blue eyed brunette looked up at you with wide eyes, filled with wonder and trying to read your own eyes. “Michael. My name is Michael,” you smile at his name and gather the cards back into your pile. You shuffle in the bustling white noise of the  busy boardwalk. A card flies out and lands face down on the table. You shuffle until two more fall from the pile. “Alright Michael, let’s see who the cards say you are.” Your black painted fingers flip over the first card to be greeted by the figure of archangel Michael blowing on his trumpet as the words read ‘judgement’. “You are going through a new journey, a new beginning. You are starting anew. You also find comfort in sharing your struggles with others who relate and you want freedom from your own troubles. Then we have,” You start flipping over the second card, “the ten of swords.” You whisper and you glance up to see his worried eyes look at the pictured body stabbed by ten swords pinned to the ground. “Don’t overthink it.” You whisper ducking your head to make eye contact with him, trying your nest to make him feel safe. “You're going to be betrayed by someone you begin to trust. The pain inflicted runs deep not because what they have done is hurtful, but because you know deep down that this marks the end of your relationship as you know it with them. You will grieve the loss of the relationship. This card is about letting go and accepting your circumstances.” There was silence between the two, you could hear a pin drop if one was to.

“It’s a warning,” you say and clear your throat to ease the tension a bit. You flip over the last card to show the lovers card. “The lovers,” you smile longingly at the card, “you will be ready to establish your own beliefs and follow your heart in the end. You will find love for yourself but love will also find you. In every choice you make on your path, there is an equal amount of advantage and disadvantage, opportunity and challenge, positive and negative. I am excited for you to find your other half.” A warm smile comes to your lips but there was wary to the middle card, that card showed the journey he was going to begin was going to something dark. The clapping of a hand on someone’s back causes you to jump out of your trance. “Well gentlemen, I hope you got the answers you two were looking for. Thank you for stopping by, if you have any more questions or any more services, I will be here.”

The two respond with weary smiles and slowly get up from their chairs with soft thanks as they continue to make their way down the boardwalk. A twinkle of a smile was left on your lips as you watched them walk away. 

Hours later you find yourself with a tip jar that is half full and a bag that contained crumpled bills that were stale and some damp. A sigh leaves your lips as you clean up the station, cleaning up the scrying orb in its case and the tip jar in the bag full of bills. Just before you started to take down your sign you saw four shadows cascade from behind you. A low hum left your lips and you turned on your heel to see four men standing in front of you. Quite young looking, dressed in all black, a couple more than the others. A small smile peaked your lips. “How can I help you gentlemen?” You ask the stoic figures as they stare down at you, purely interested and emitting a strange energy. They’re energy was really strange but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

“Well we were seeing if it wasn’t too late to get a couple of readings,” the one with the spiked platinum blonde hair responds. His head tilts as he looks into your eyes. For a second you had to look away from the piercing blue eyes because you felt your head go dizzy. 

“Of course, what are you looking for? I do tarot, palms, and even runes.” You inform as your make your way to your side of the booth. Your folding chair creaking as you sit on it, your posture upright and alert. 

“Well, Marko? Which one do you want? You begged to come over here before they closed.” The platinum spoke up again, you tried to get a read on him, by his upright body language he seemed to be the leader of the little posse. Though you were new to the boardwalk you never really saw them around. How did you miss them? Granted you were new to town, but only by a few weeks.

“I’ll go with a palm reading if it means the cutie gets to hold my hand.” The one name Marko pipes with a chuckle from his peers. You can only roll your eyes playfully to play along, “Well sit down, palm readings start at $10 for that comment.” You tease the curly haired man who skipped to your hair and held out his hands with a snicker following. The fingerless gloves covered most of his palm so you nod your head towards his hands, “May I?” You ask before he responds with a nod and cheesy grin. As you started to slip off his hands your eyes peered over his head to watch his friends behind him. You take in their appearances. The platinum blonde was starting to light a cigarette. The other wild haired blonde was walking forward to admire the trinkets on your booth. While the tall brunette was giving you a cold stare as he watched you take off his friends gloves. Each of them donned a single earring and a jacket that was different to their individuality. You clear your throat and look at Marko, “It is nice to meet you Marko. I hope you find this reading useful and beneficial to you for the future.” You start as you take his cool hand into yours. Overlapping his hand with yours you didn’t mind the cold hands, or think much about it, the night was quite chilly.

You roll your shoulders back and roll your neck to relax. As you did a shock was sent through your nerves and you gasped sharply. As did Marko who received the same energy suddenly, causing a pained groan to leave his throat. The energy surges up to your neck causing you to close your eyes tightly. A vision. Pain. Darkness. Betrayal. You can see through Marko’s eyes. He was in pain and bleeding everywhere. There were inhuman screeches all around him; his friends jolted around in him in disturbance and rage. Then you realized they were hanging upside down. Their faces looked like nothing that they did now. Features were contorted, eyes were bloodshot and yellow, and teeth sharp. Just as your vision ended you felt a stabbing in your chest just like the object in Marko’s chest. A pained yell left your throat. There was an echo of Marko yelling out in pain and incoherent yells of the boys behind him. 

You shot Marko away from you with shadows of purple energy following him. The chair shot about six feet from under him and Marko rolled to a stop with the wild blonde following after him in concern. 

“What the hell was that?!” The leader booms rushing to your table, his hands grasping the table with a crushing grip. You could hear it crack as you try to catch your breath. The pain was unbearable. “What the hell are you?!” He interrogates again with a sharp tone. This time he threw the table to the side effortlessly. You gasp and stand in response. Your hands fly up in a contorted shape with purple shadows lingers around your fingers. The leader was stuck in his palace, grunting and struggling against your will. Pants leave your parted lips, brows furrowed and pained as you hold back the leader. Exposing your power.

The three other men kneel around their curly haired friend. Your eyes flicker to them, “There is one thing I can’t stand about vampires,” you croak, holding the leader in his place bringing him as you walk closer to the boys. The look on their faces when you announce your knowledge of their supernatural being, now that look was priceless. “They don’t know how to control their temper.” You choke out as purple energy hazed over your eyes. Their eyes widened at the energy around their leader and the shine from your eyes. All of them scramble to their feet. 

The brunette was first to act and you were faster to stop him mid run. He was now frozen under your spell. Energy outlining his shape as he looked around frantically. You wipe your hand causing him to fly straight through the railing and far out into the ocean with a purple orb pushing straight into his chest. Then with another flick of your wrist the leader went flying right after the brunette with another orb following to make him go further. Your purple eyes scanned towards the two blondes who looked hostile yet intimidated. Before they could even take a step you waved your arms and contorted hands in front of you, to each of their bodies, with a cross of your arms the two slam into one another with a crushing thud. You push the energy out with your arms and hands and the two blondes went flying far out into the ocean following their peers with purple orbs pushing into their chests. 

You were left there on the dark boardwalk, cascaded under orange street lamps, panting with purple shadows flowing around your eyes and glowing in your eyes. Your adrenaline pumping through your veins caused your breathing to become ragged. It took a beat for your breathing to return to normal. You slid your stance back to normal to show your calming nature. Your hands return to your sides no longer casting purple energy and your eyes are their normal color but still widened in fear. Behind you was your booth table broken in half, your items thrown all about wildly from the wind, and your scrying orb shattered near your feet. Dollar bills flying wildly wherever the ocean breeze takes them. 

Taking one last deep breath you tilt your head out towards the crashing onyx waves. The humid breeze thrashing your clothing all about. You press a clammy palm to your forehead as you curse quietly to yourself, “Shit.”

a/n: this is the first part of a series that i have been writing on and off for the past month. i’ve always wanted to incorporate a witch into the lost boys because it would be so interesting! this will be sort of slow burn poly!the lost boys kind of vibe. please let me know if you’d like more of this series. thank you so much for reading!! 🖤🖤🖤

[the-fiction-witch]

Fox Hunting P1

TV SHOW ACCUSED COUPLE JAKE X READER RATING: SMUTTY

I finished off from work and locked up the little shop behind me given I was the last one still here and the day shift guys wouldn't be in for a couple more hours. I hurried down the cracked old streets the sun still rising slowly, the streetlamps going out as I walked through. I arrived at my little apartment and locked up behind me having myself a little nap as I usually did. when I woke I had myself a hot bubble bath making sure to clean myself up and relax my body, I didn't bother with much makeup nothing more than my eyeliner, my mascara and the bright orange highlighter I always put on when I got out for.... 'Fox hunting', I got dressed into my little orange and red plaid skirt, and my white crop top, I got a jacket making sure to cover myself up, I put my nice socks and my trainers on as I knew I would be running, I didn't take a big bag there wasn't much of a point. 

I locked up and headed down to the street wondering though towards the bus stop, as I was standing there, I felt a hand on my ass I glanced beside me and saw an older man clearly on his way to an office job, his tan trench coat on his arm hiding where his hand was I glared at him and he winked at me so I took his hand and pushed his hand away slightly crushing his hand 

"come on won't you smile for me, sweetheart?"

"go fuck yourself," I told him, as the bus arrived so I got on and paid for my ticket, I went sitting at the back on the top level away from people watching the world go by for a while watching as we headed out of the town stopping at all the little stops along the way as we headed away from one-stop I saw a familiar face as she climbed the stairs 

"Hi Y/n" she smiled in her little orange dress her little ears headband on 

"Hi Lillian" I smiled as she sat down beside me 

"You excited?" 

"always"

"I love when we go play fox hunting" she giggled "I hope Luke catches me this time" 

"again?"

"I like when he catches me" she smiled "who caught you last time?"

"Sam"

"Ohhh, who do you want this time?"

"I don't care that's not the point" I giggled 

"I guess so" she nods "Ooohhh... Jake's there. he's asking if you're coming?"

"He's sweet, he just pouts because he's always last" I giggled

"I know, poor thing," she says 

once we got to the stop we both climbed off the bus and Lillian called a taxi for us as it was a little too far to walk, once the taxi arrived we climbed in

"you're the third set of people we've driven up there today" the driver explained "You guys having some kinda party up there? little like wood rave or something?" 

"something like that yeah" I giggled once we arrived at the little farmhouse it was once an old barn on his family's land that Alex had since converted into his out little house, we paid thanked the driver and headed out instantly spotting everyone else 

"Lillian! Hello baby" sam smirked giving her a cuddle 

"Y/n I missed you so badly!" Luke smirked as he saw me everyone said there hellos as we usually did and then Alex spoke up.

"So… everyones here" he smirked.

It didn't take long for it to begin everyone finishing the snacks on the house and using the bathroom beforehand we all went to the back garden that sat with the woods open to it I stood as usual with the girls between Lillian and missy with Ella on the end, and of course across from us the boys Luke, alex, sam, Mike and jake on the end I caught him looking at me but that was pretty normal I think Jake has a crush on me but I don't know he's never said anything about it to me or made a sort of move so I don't know, everyone got sorted putting there bags in the house as well as there jackets and Alex smirked with his little...not sure what it is like a fake toy trumpet I guess that makes a little toot noise 

"Now. I'm sure as all of us have been…. Hunting before I need not remind you of the rules" Alex explained

"One more time" sam spoke up as he was the newest to join us

"Fine. Today we embark on the hunt. We have five hunters and four beautiful foxes. Momentarily we will get ready and then begin the hunt. The foxes get a twenty minute head start running into the woods, after twenty minutes the hunters can give chase to the little foxes. When you catch yourself a fox well… you can do whatever you want with your prize. But of course four foxes and five hunters someone will not catch a fox" he explained before fake coughing "jake. And whoever that may be gets to come back to the farm house in shame and pays for dinner" he explained "no cheating, no waiting up for each other, and no fighting you get whatever little fox you catch" he explained

"It's not my fault I'm always last! I've got little legs and asthma!" Jake complained

"Yeah yeah, go on then phones" Alex spoke up as he came around with the little tin box and everyone put their phones inside "sign away" he smirked passing around a note pad it didn't say much and wasn't exactly like a contract it was just given… how intense the boys can be it just covers there backs if everyone signs their names on the notepad as a consent agreement. Once everyone had signed luke came around with the big tub he began with Ella she giggled and slipped her panties off from under her skirt, then mossy did the same and Lillian and I smirked tugging my own off leaving them in the tub with the others noticing as I did jake was definitely starting his jeans providing he was already hard from just watching. 

Luke took the tub to the house with the phone box but seemed to be taking a while 

"Luke! You better not be sniffing the tub you gross little perv!" Mike yelled to him 

"How about you mind your own damn business!" He yelled back before returning 

"When the horn blows the little foxes can run"

"Horn?" Sam giggled

"It's my blower shit up" Alex told him "one. Two…" he made it sound and of course all four of us girls bolted as fast as possible into the woods.