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plasticfangtastic · 3 months

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Dairy Girl-- Part 2

A Homelander x F! Reader fanfic

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post this and hope the lenght is enough of an apology, yeah this is gonna be liek 4 parts i got too engrossed btw. hope yall like it here's the previous chapter:

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

word count: 3.4K

Part 2– Calf

As he’d mentioned before the house was an escape proof cage– every window had its hinges super glued or welded shut, glass panels thick enough to prevent shattering but thin enough to allow sound in. That night as he’d left you for the first time you kept your composure, perturbed more by the earlier events that nothing had time to sink in, you venture across the 3 bedroom home, each room old taken straight out from a vintage furniture catalog, the master bedroom smelled just like your grandmother’s, the bathroom walls covered in tacky pink tiles that you told yourself will never get used to.

By the time you explored the whole building you understood the following: The size felt deceiving, without a way to see the outside this building could’ve been 35 floors high and you wouldn’t know, the east-wing of the building at the opposite direction where you’d emerged was cut off from you by a thick metal door, an eye-scan request made its unpickable lock, looking at how it cut on the hardwood floors you’d guess this is where in the kitchen and perhaps the garage and entry hall could be found, this overall felt like an architectural nightmare, the only other oddity of this was the piles and piles of bottled water– Vought branded water… you much rather drink Dasani than this crap… It was by far the worst one in the supermarket.

There were indeed no phones or even ethernet ports on the wall, the TV was bolted in its place and so was the VHS player (and all the furniture too), there were at least 350 titles on the walls (something you bothered to count on day 5), an extremely old vinyl player your only other company... whoever had supposedly lived here was a big fan of Cab Calloway, ABBA and Bruce Springsteen, here you and Bruce could become intimate friends it seems after all you had all his vinyls, alongside an expansive jazz assortment, nothing in this selection went past 1989.

You also learned a very useful fact on day 3 you stared at one of the 18 cameras that you’d found.

“I really want some Mcnuggets! Like just a 12-pack and a large Sprite! Maybe an Oreo Mcflurry too!” You yelled into the camera waving your arms as if the circular lense would reply somehow.

Barely few minutes later the air was filled with the roaring sounds of a bike burning tires seemed the forbidden end faced some road which made you giddy, about 50 minutes later a small door at the door itself opened smoothly where the first strange hand you’ve seen in the last 3 days popped-out leaving a bag with a familiar logo… it wasn’t maccas tho, it was Vought-a-burger which was okay but that wasn’t the point, you picked your meal and your oversize ice-cream and drink and begun connecting lines– Your prison was in Pennsylvania, based on the area code on the phone number on that old pizza box, located close enough from both a pizza chain and on a 15 to 20 minutes drive from a Vought-a-Burger, the library held no maps for you to try to find your location but give or take about an hour or two by foot from any civilization… Yet as you drank the mostly melted caramel churro sundae you smiled thinking of how to steal a bike.

That Night you picked two tapes from the wall not caring one bit about what you were going to see, you stared at the camera.

“Hey can one of you check like an underrated 80s movie list from IMDb ‘cuz I seen a few of these already… at least bring me something new!”

As always no response was ever given, you dragged your feet towards that ornate bedroom of yours, pink walls, flowery quits, a matching chaise lounge, a hardwood coffee table bolted to the ground and your private TV and VHS player, it took you an hour to remember how to use these thing that second day here. You put on a movie, curling in your bed in the dark, smelling the sweet flowery smell of fabric softener, this didn’t smell like home, pillows too soft, mattress too soft everything here was made to bring you comfort but it was making you feel like a squatter.

The cold light of the screen enveloped every surface and you slowly faded away as ‘Lady in White’ began to wrap up, eyes glued to the screen so firmly you screamed when the faint red light peeked from the corner, clutching the quilt across your body as the red faded away and all you saw was a vaguely illuminated shape.

Blurry colors with no clean shapes, standing facelessly enough blue to let you see it was humanoid, Homelander creeped closer, his body blocking the light and like a shadow he devours everything, he turned around to pause the player, draping his gloves on the dumb box as he turned around once more, your heart caught in your throat, each breath quick and sharp as he took another step closer, hushing softly and he’s there swallowing you whole he kneeled into the bed the mattress squeaked and chimed sinking under his weight pulling you in, only the faint outline of gold eagles and soft blonde locks told you with absolute certainty that he was here… that 3 days ago you indeed met The Homelander, far from the pretty blue-eyed hunk from the movies more ghoul.

You swallowed as his head rested on the pillow next to your hips, his nose burying in the cushioned pillowcase.

“I was busy with work” He mumbles softly, staring at you with the same playfulness of a guilty pet owner who’d ran out of their cat's churu treats– "I promise to visit, I got you something… left it downstairs for you.”

He stared at your white knuckled hands and without uttering a word you understood his demands, fingers moved by psychic force alone, you welcomed him into your lap as you came undone, burying your digits into his hair, soft like cotton, so smooth you dreamt of cat’s bellies as you scratched him, he took the remote from under you lifting you with so much ease your brain struggled to compute it at first, the movie played and all he wanted was petting.

“Security told me you’ve been good… nothing crazy… am glad, "he said with a tired tone.

“What good would that do me…?” You replied with your eyes focused on the screen.

If you wanted to survive I had to get on his good side, no? you though

“I like it when you people understand your place” He chuckles softly.

‘You people’? You could easily discern the meaning behind his words by tone alone, your finger stopped suddenly, his eyes flaring up immediately.

“I think this would be more productive if you told me exactly what’s going on… I won’t try to run or scream… am just confused and scared…” you spoke bluntly as his gaze met yours in the dark.

“This is my private speakeasy and you’re the bartender… tap too… is hard being on top… and I want some relief… and a sanctum–

“To express your socially unacceptable inclinations/interests? Fair enough I can imagine the press would eat you alive if they found out you liked breastmilk.”

“You’re cute and smart too.” He pushed himself into your stomach, your body sinking to the shape he wanted, holding you tight– I’ll be a good owner and let you asks me absolutely anything you want”

“Why me?”

“Dunno.” His lips tightened into a flat line– the doctors picked you, I asked for a good provider… but all the women downstairs and you did have one thing in common” He sounded awkward as he spoke listening to your increasing heartbeat– you kept producing… I asked to have easy access to my treat but somebody downstairs came out with all of this” his hand lazily gestures around– bit extra I know.”

How simple, he didn’t even care about this to begin with, glaring at him gave you no answers or comfort.

“My family…?”

“They think you killed yourself, I've been told… your ex-hubby been on twitter acting holier than the virgin mary, absolutely devastated for likes” You bit your lips, face scrunching up ready to shout and cry– everybody suspects he murdered you even the cops”

“I'm going to kill him!!” Your tears flowed regardless – god fucking dammit!”

Your whole body rejected the news, twisting your stomach and filling you with needles

“How would you do it?”

“Bash his head in with a hammer…?? I don’t know but fuck him! I wasted 5 years of my life with that bastard!” You cried.

Homelander buried his face into your stomach, hiding the smile on his face. as you cursed outloud for a little bit, he paid no attention to your words.

“Sorry…” You cleaned your tears trying to stop this embarrassing display, the mere thought of him acting like he cared made you sick when he wouldn’t even come to his own son’s funeral– are you gonna hurt me?” you cleaned your nose against the pillow.

He moved so quickly before you knew it he’s face to face and even in this dark room only lit by rolling credits he appeared serene as a painting… It makes your blood run cold.

“Why would I hurt my comforter?”

That night he only slept for a couple hours, never moving from your stomach, holding you regardless, he snored softly, mumbling half-spoken words, lips twitching and brows furrowing, you petted him gently watching his hardened frown melt.

Some days he’d come once, others he’d come five times and then there were the days were you didn’t see him at all, leaving you awkwardly aware about how odd these exchanges felt… for it never felt truly sexual, your fears of molestation and ‘real’ assault dissuaded as you accepted that all this man was doing was come here to whine and bitch about work and suck on your titty– like right now, Homelander has been shouting, talkign so much shit about his coworkers you started to wonder if it was made up for nobody could certainly be that allegedly incompetent, about how stressful it was to do 20 plus media interviews all day, about hoq\w his latest film “Justice Serve” was a fucking nightmare already despite being only half-way thru pre-production.

“Do you even know what it's like to deal with idiots who think they’re better than you because they have an award!?” He put your nipple back in his mouth with a frown– who does Villeneuve think he is” He mumbled into your skin.

Yet he didn’t only bring petty grievances and thirsty lips– he showered you with gifts, perfumes you couldn’t pronounce filled with soft fragrances: sweet but not sugary, warm tones without too much spice. Brought you beauty products to pamper you… to watch you play with from the many cameras in the house, and dressed you like a doll in clothes you honestly wouldn't have bought in the first place, too flowery and tradwifey.

You did so with a fake smile, you’d be pretty for him if you must, keep your tongue in-check and swallow the ever increasing knot in your throat for he at least wasn’t loud towards you, he didn’t yell, he didn’t make scenes… you were just living like his newest pet.

His miniature cow standing in the living room instead of the evergreen pastures outside, VHS tapes and steel food trays made your fence.

You keep busy cleaning this house making stories of who had lived there, Bruce the only one who spoke to you.

Analysing the house inch by inch, there had to have been a spot they’ve missed you kept thinking, you figured that somehow they monitored your sleep cycle, only entering to remove dirty clothes and trash in the death of night, they knew if you were obviously awake, on day 14 you stayed up till around 5 am and not a peep was heard accross the house but as you woke past noon all your trash had been cleaned up, on day 16 you stayed awake all day felt sick passed out and same thing, you would find a way out, you would force them to take you out, all the furniture was glued in its post but if you had to cause a fire you fucking would… as you stared at your clean bedsheets you figure you could force them to come in and drag you outside but as you postulated the possibility of a faux-suicide attempt Homelander’s face flashed accross closed eyes– dare dissapointing him and lose all the goodwill you’d been building, trust, even presents more extravagant than anything your ex ever did.

Had he not kidnapped you, hold you against your will in an underground bunker, used you as a milk fountain and terrified the fuck out of you with his invisible steps in the middle of the night you would had found him charming… endearing even… at least he was still handsome… frightening but handsome.

Day 18-19-20 were the worse so far, days went by and your isolation only grew he had not come by, your meals delivered so quietly you missed them and found them cold, birds either too loud or gone but Homelander never came, every hour the anxiety only grew as you found your throat aching to speak with somebody other than a non-present 80s musician.

You made a stack of the movies you’ve seen yelling to the camera demanding more to watch, abandoning the cause to focus on the obscene collection of Danielle Steel books in the library… at least 30 books, at least it was a distraction as you woke up for the third day in a row without hearing from Homelander.

You talked to yourself, prettier views didn’t make up for human interaction, you had isolated yourselves before… you didn’t eat, shower, answer calls, simply left yourself to rot in your bed, sinking deeper and deeper into your mattress, the calm heartbeat of the machine keeping you alive until the phone battery died, now here you were curling in the couch feeling that endless void inside you screaming back at you, nothing to distract you from it any longer.

How ironic that those days locked in the basement had been the firsts since the funeral that you’d hadn’t thought about it.

Now every sleep came with dreams of distant cries, empty halls that cooed back, and a sense of urgency as time slipped from underneath you, nothing here smelled like him, yet in your sleep you held your pillow as you once held him, swearing it smelled like him, in the silence the singing birds sound like babies, but there’s nothing but creaking floorboards, old pipes and foreign ghosts in this place.

In this endless silence your mind told you this was limbo, jazz solos disguised the pandemonium of a silent afterlife, but as your heart anguished once again you buried yourself in paltry distractions, reading out loud as to keep your vocal chords warm and delude yourself that there was some company in here, mostly to hide the nonexistent crying.

It took you by surprise when half way thru ‘The Ghost’ you heard the buzzing of the steel door, your ears perked up stretching your neck before falling into the floor, shaky knees picked you up once more with a brave kick, quick steeping into the living room– Homelander stood staring at the messy pile talking to the camera to have this sorted and for the first time since you’d been here you sawn another human, who answered his call almost immediately, a man in kevlar rushed in his gun bouncing on his back alongside a young man dragging an ikea bag.

“Homelander!” Your voice was hoarse but he still turned to smile at you.

“We got you some new movies Ms. L/N” The young man spoke dropping the bag with a heavy thud.

“Watch it!” Homelander growled and you saw a slight stain dribble down his pants– just go wait in the library kitten while these ones sort this out for you.”

Your feet moved anyways, too excited by the presence of new faces, had he not cleared his throat you would’ve said anything just to make sure this wasn’t a dream, you looked away and that big steel door was wide open, an armed guard by the exit tho… it was an office, painted white with cool fluorescent lights.

Run, the voices scream.

Run.

For fucks sake run!!\

but...

You stay still.

It’s a test. Run and die, run and he’d snap your spine in thirds before you understand what happened your brain would be separated from your cranium no doubt, you swallow and take a step back, slow heavy agonizing steps lead you to the library.

Homelander’s gaze softens as he watches you sit by the unlit fireplace, he follows you soon after leaving the staff to work behind, you lift your head with a stiff neck, your tongue swollen inside your mouth, he smiles gently dropping to your level, carrying a small box.

The pretty bow doesn’t catch your attention in the least.

Not that dashing smile and ever so blue eyes either.

He tickles your nose without touching.

Chamomile and oat, a pale scent, subtle and clean…

As he scoot closer to you urging you to take the meaningless box held by nude hands, he pets your chin, leaving you to catch nutty tones… his hands smell of almond oil and cream.

He’s talking as he guides your hand into opening the present but you aren’t hearing a single word spoken… all you care about is his aroma…it invides you carving an aching hollow chest, making you dizzy and the world is squeezing your whole body with a thousands of pounds of violent force but you’re still held in one piece, wrapping your neck with the necklace he’d got you, touching every exposed inch leaving traces of sweet almond on you, resting his chin on your stiff shoulder so close whispering sweet nothings to you… hair smells so creamy… milky coconut, it makes you ill– You could name every brand he wore if asked.

“You like it?” He asks into your neck.

‘Like’ what? You guessed he meant the necklace.

“Where have you been?” You asked, wanting to think of anything but that bitter scent.

He pushes you down into the carpet, your hair drapes everywhere so he moves it to give himself no chance to pull it, you can’t even argue but your surprise and discomfort still paints your face, before you can say anything he drops his head on your stomach, nuzzling your dress and pulling your hand towards his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it” his muffle words sound angry, he whined into your stomach a quiet order demanding affection.

Obeying orders before he could whined even more for now you wanted silence again.

Staying like this for as long as he needed, leaving you to speculate what brought him such distress that caused him to abandon you as a result, a part of you stared in awe as you realized you how long this man could stay still without making a sound for.

How long did you lay there in a shared repose that your eyes shut? you wondered as the orange glow of afternoon sun warmed your cheeks, his hand cleaned a falling tear off your face as you woke up with a headache.

“Had a nightmare?”

Your hand unconsciously pulled him close to you, burying his face under your chin he’d awkwardly smiled as he adjusted to your demands, talking to you but it was white noise, your kept him still bridging an arm across his neck locking him in position, your other hand buried in blond, closing your eyes as you got high on shampoo.

In your mind much like your dream you hold him so close, he was plump and giddy, his hair more than a thin tuff, you laughed with him, as you dried his back, you swore to never love the scent of coconut, you held back your pain as you held him with all your might.

“I don’t want to talk about it…”

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x fem!reader #personal #my fic tag #the boys amazon #i have not proofread this so i die as the dog that i am #will edit for errors tomorrow cuz its almost midnight when am posting this.

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patheticmull3rr · 2 months

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Teory📔📘; When Blue Meets Yellow In The West

I have been replaying the Third Season for a few days now, and the most iconic phrase within it; "when blue and yellow meet in the west" has made me very curious.

In ST these tones are used to symbolize how couples (both in a friendly and loving context) begin to know or "find" such tones we find in scenes such as

The photos of Eleven and Max;

and on the tiles of the bathrooms where Steve and Robin were;

Just as these tones are found in different scenes used in contexts with couples that were previously presented to us. But what matters here is that this phrase is present in moments prior to which two specific characters are about to share important moments between them.

And ow this symbolizes personal growth for both people.

In the case of Eleven and Max, Max makes Eleven learn that her individual life is much more than what Hopper or Mike tell her, and that there are more better things in the world than "stupid boys."

Teaches her to be herself, and at the same time Max becomes Eleven's first best friend, which is important for both of them even later in the S4. Max provokes in Eleven a feeling of independence and empowerment.

Which she later uses to end her relationship with Mike after he lied to her (I'll talk about that specific scene in another blog).

Also!!: I would like to honor the detail that Max has the green during this specific scene that shows Eleven the Wonder Woman comics, which in simpler words symbolizes the fact that Max already has the blue and yellow in she

Moving on to the Robin and Steve scene, specifically Robin is a character that is used to be related to Steve for the same reason as Eleven and Max.

Of course, each scene is different, but if we realize, in both contexts they have a similar problem, which is love problems.

In the bathroom scene where Robin and Steve talk, Steve begins to give Robin some hints that show that he is romantically attracted to her.

She ends up rejecting him by coming out to him as a lesbian woman, but even so she does not act offended by this, but rather a friendship arises directly between them. something that Steve also needs, realizing that there is more to the world than just wanting to get a girlfriend, and that he still has a lot of internal development ahead of him.

(I will also analyze this scene in another blog)

Taking into account the scenes that we have just rescued where yellow and blue are predominant in both couples, yellow and blue are not as such couple tones, as in the case of Mike and Eleven.

Something that is even somewhat difficult to find using these shades while the two are together, not counting the covers, and also the moments like this one that I have marked.

Taking the fact that explains that in the context of "when yellow meets blue in the west" symbolizing that they are important colors that are taken for important moments and where there is an individual advancement in both people being united.

Why then does the original couple, who are supposed to have yellow and blue predominating in them, not move forward together?

The answer is simple: They do not advance in the way that is expected when being together.

Let's take for example a dialogue that was supposed to be important for both of them, the scene in which they were trying to heal Eleven's injured leg after training against the MindFlayer.

During this scene we are presented with Mike trying to talk to Eleven, as Lucas had repeatedly told him earlier in the episodes after she finished him off.

We can see that during these dialogues, Mike tries to talk to Eleven more directly about how he feels about her, the simple act of apologizing, telling her that he was an idiot for lying to her, or perhaps a simple "I love you, forgive me for not telling you the truth" but while he tries he only manages to stumble over his words and confuse Eleven, not knowing what he was referring to, not understanding Mike's hints in his words and the way in which he himself was trying to tell them.

And can even take into account that before telling him something important he is interrupted by the walkie talkie.

So why didn't Mike just try to tell Eleven directly what he had screamed moments before she got hurt?

It's simple, both had already found their yellow and blue moments before, both realized different things, which later causes their development to begin to fall behind, because they both (specially Eleven) don't need that.

and that's why in this scene, after talking to Eleven about being in contact with her, he acts so confused after she brings up what he had said earlier, and Mike just says he doesn't remember.

That is why when she kisses him and tells him that she loves him, he acts confused, his simple gestures are as if he did not expect that to happen, because he was thinking of saying something very different to Eleven during the failed dialogue they had.

But now, let's see about the yellow one that Mike found when Eleven was not with him.

In which he even had the green with him during that specific scene that I would like to discuss.

Taking into account this specific scene we can realize that it is the complete opposite of how he is expected to behave with Mike, when Eleven tells him that they broke up, Mike does nothing but get upset and go home being angry as hell. same way, but when he has this argument with Will during the pressure of the moment, he simply makes the decision to go after him, knock on his door until he gets tired and tell him that he had been a complete idiot, that he wanted to talk things over with him and without letting him to shout his name and knock on his door.

At the same time, we can take into account that both scenes are totally different, in the scene where Eleven ends up with Mike, there is a big sun, a lot of people, a relaxed atmosphere, but when Mike argues with Will, everything becomes sad, there is no sun, it's raining.

And both end up with emotions twice as strong as they were before.

We can take this as the fact that Eleven had already found her blue, and she felt complete because of it, she didn't need Mike. But in Mike's case everything got even sadder because he still didn't get his yellow, and he felt like he was losing him.

In the case of Robin and Steve, they did not have yellow and blue in their clothes, but there was in their surroundings. I would like to use it in this context to show that although we already gave a more psychological meaning to yellow and blue, the phrase, taken literally can represents a sunset.

and we not only see this in the scene we took, but also in the scene from the season before this one, "crazy together."

and in another scene later, the scene after the fourth season ended

Specifically, I use this because it is an allegory to what I am trying to communicate with this, they are both sitting together, and the sun is touching them both.

At the same time, if I remember correctly, several of the most important scenes in the context of Mike and Will have been after "yellow and blue meet."

I know what you may be wondering, if I'm using the phrase for a more friendly context when putting friendly couples, why specifically Mike and Will don't I put them there too?.

It's simple, because they have already passed that phase, and their relationship has been growing over time, in a more personal and even deeper way even if they were not together, and because the phrase is not only used for friendly couples.

and, no, yellow and blue does not represent Mike and Eleven's relationship, because we can see that after several important moments during Eleven's individual development, she stops using yellow or blue, even during season four she begins to use the blue.

They make it clear to us that Eleven does not need a yellow or a blue to be able to move forward, because if the previous development she had with Max left her.

Is that she can be her own blue and yellow, even another different tone or the one that she wants to use.

For that same reason during the scene where Mike and Will meet after fighting, Mike wears green, hoping that Will could see that he would be both shades for both of them, but, at the end of the day, they would end up completely matching each other.

That's the same reason why, in previous seasons and even episodes within that season, they both continue to use them individually, and have so many important moments together.

Thanks so much for reading. 💛💙

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satelliteddie · 2 years

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love of my life - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: after just barely surviving the upside down, eddie remains in hiding in a hotel room away from hawkins. he’s beginning to go stir crazy when his best friend finally comes to visit him.

content warnings: NSFW (18+) MDNI; smut with plot, idiots in love, mentions of injuries from S4, fix-it fic, (unprotected) piv sex, handjob/fingering, cream-pie, language, pet names, showering together, aftercare

word count: 6.1k sheesh I got carried away

author’s notes: this picks up right where S4 should have ended, with Eddie alive and in hiding ;) ahh he’s so pretty

Baby, you were the love of my life, woah

Maybe you don't know what's lost 'til you find it

Days seemed to stretch to unbelievable lengths as Eddie stared up at the monotone motel ceiling. He’d come close to counting every crack in the ceiling tiles — since he’d already counted all of them. 56 tiles. 13 have water stains. The group had promised Eddie it would only be a couple of days in this horrible room while they cleared his name. Escaping the Upside Down was nearly impossible as everyone was drained and some wounded. Eddie suffered from near-fatal bites from demo-bats, but once Steve and Dustin dragged him back to Hawkins to meet up with the rest of the group. Through all of it, all that consumed Eddie’s brain was finding you. Nancy, Robin, Dustin and Steve tried to convince him he needed to take care of himself first and hide away before anyone in Hawkins realized he was alive. Stupidly, he agreed to leave without seeing you one more time. It had been two days since then, the cheap motel on the edge of Lafayette, Indiana, was starting to feel like it was shrinking. The take-out boxes, dirty clothes, and cigarettes were beginning to pile up. Steve had gotten the room for Eddie and stayed with him the first day; Robin came the second day with beers in hand and a sympathetic smile. He appreciated both of them coming to see him, but truly Eddie just wanted you. He wanted to hold his best friend and see that she was alright. He wanted to tell you how he really felt, no more worrying about the what-if’s. He could care less about himself and what was going to happen to him…he just needed to know that you would be okay. He needed you. Eddie had been laying on the bed for hours, tossing up a rolled pair of socks at the ceiling. It kept his hands busy while his mind ran off coming up with endless ways for this all to end.

The third day seemed to be the longest so far, the rain pounding against the windows made it hard to tell what time it was. All the time alone, cut off from the outside world and his friends, reminded Eddie too much of the time on the run from the cops and Jason not too long ago. It was all building up in his head, the weight of running and the trauma he’s suffered settling on his shoulders. Even when Steve and Robin came to visit, the tension in his muscles remained and his mind was scattered. Logically everyone knew Eddie couldn’t stay at the hotel using someone else’s name forever, but it was as good as they could do for now to keep him away from Hawkins. The more hours that passed, the more time Eddie had to replay every second of his last week at home. Everything went to shit.

Take a walk on Sunday through the afternoon

We can always find something for us to do

We don't really like what's on the news, but it's on all the time

The muted TV buzzed in the corner of the room, tuned into whatever news channel was clear. Occasionally, news from Hawkins would make it to the mainstream news that was broadcasted here. That’s when Eddie would come face to face with his wanted poster — that now had turned into a ‘presumed dead’ poster. He never liked what was on the news, but it’s on all the time. Eddie’s tosses began to slow, becoming bored with the game he created; he chucked the balled up socks at the wall beside him, the cloth hitting the plaster with a thud. Footsteps splashed their way through the puddles on the outside of the motel room. Eddie shuffled off the bed, ducking behind the mattress to watch the shadows through the hotel curtains. He snatched the tv remote off the bedside table, the closest “weapon” he could find. Eddie’s eyes remained fixed on the room door, watching to see if the knob would move. Steve had told him that someone would be coming today at some point — could he be more vague? Eddie thought as he continued to watch the door. There were only two keys to the room, Eddie had one and the other was passed around the group to come visit. So, logically if the door opened without incident it was a member of the Party. The heavy hotel room door swung open just enough for a petite figure to slip inside, turning to shut and lock it while shaking the rain off their jacket. A black duffel bag fell to the floor near the door, while the figure turned around. The jacket hood slipped down, exposing hair and a face that Eddie knew better than his own.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie asks slowly rising from his hiding place. You turn to him, the worry in your eyes disappearing to be replaced with warmth. “You’re here,” he says as if the words will convince him you’re not just a figment of his imagination.

“I’m here,” you respond, taking careful steps away from the door. The hotel room is stale, cold, and dim, but when looking at Eddie it feels like you could be on a beach in the Caribbean. He radiates everything good and warm.

Eddie drops the remote from his grasp, fumbling his way around the bed to scoop you into him. He wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you off the ground as you cling around his neck. Three days without seeing each other felt like a lifetime — what you both experienced was enough to last a lifetime anyways. You’re not sure how long you stay with your arms around Eddie’s neck, your fingers combing over his curls. Slowly, Eddie lowers you back to the floor moving his hands away from your waist to hold your face in them. You raise your much smaller hands to lay over top of his on your cheeks. Eddie seems to be bursting at the seams, a smirk stuck on his face and his eyes are the color of the perfect cup of coffee.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, your eyes lingering on the healing gashes on his neck and face.

Eddie’s smirk morphs into a full grin, “yeah, I’m okay now.” He can’t resist the urge to plant a kiss on your forehead, so he presses his lips against your skin. The stress in his muscles dissipates as he holds you close to him, Eddie’s mind is muted and all that remains is his love for you.

I take you with me every time I go away

In a hotel, using someone else's name

I remember back at Jonny's place, it's not the same anymore

Reluctantly, Eddie lets you go to retrieve the duffle from the door. You grab the bag and toss it onto the bed, “I tried to get whatever I could from the trailer.” Laying out the contents across the comforter: Eddie’s D&D campaign notebooks, music tapes and walkman, Lord of the Rings books, old music journals, and any other distractions you could reach — anything from the trailer that would make him feel at home.

“I bought canned foods,” you place the cans on the bedside table. “But I just wanted to bring you some stuff from home too.”

Eddie lingers near the end of the bed, silently reaching and brushing his fingers over the books you brought him. He reaches for a tattered leather journal that held ideas for new Corroded Coffin music. You had spent endless nights in Eddie’s room, sprawled out on the bed watching contently as he scribbled in the pages. He would never let you read the songs, shielding the words from you as he wrote. You would lay with your head in your hands, hoping the songs he wrote were about you. The truth was, most of them were about you — you had slowly become Eddie’s muse. You and Eddie both had fallen into the cliche of best friends who don’t realize they’re both in love, and are too worried to say anything. So the two of you had succumbed to a comfortable rhythm with lingering touches and longing stares. Eddie would constantly think of you whenever you two were apart, especially over these last three days. He replayed moments spent together, the ones only the two of you shared… singing in his room, watching the sunset at Lover’s Lake, creating new campaigns at Skull Rock, and all those other private moments he cherished. He took you with him every time he went away. It didn’t matter how far or for how long.

“I- thank you,” Eddie clutches the journal to his chest, his eyes misty. “You have no idea how much this means to me.” He kneels down on the mattress, pushing all of his things closer to him. Eddie rubs a rough hand over his face, sniffling and trying to suppress his tears. His hands shake as he wipes away the tears that manage to escape.

“I’m so sorry Eds,” you sit down on the bed amongst all his things. You reach out and place your hand on his thigh, “you don’t deserve any of this. This isn’t fair to you.”

Eddie sighs and drops his hands to hold yours, his eyes are bloodshot and wet as he looks back at you. “You don’t deserve this either, sweetheart. Yet, here we are.” A bitter laugh comes from him as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

Eddie carried so much guilt along with his own trauma from the last couple of days, he didn’t know how to even begin processing it. Being Eddie’s best friend caused you to be roped into everything. Which meant when Eddie went missing, Max and Dustin’s first stop was at your house. Immediately you believed the children, that you had spent very little time with, but knew they had Eddie’s best interest in mind. That’s when Dustin, Steve, Max, and Robin sat you down to explain just how bad things were going to get for Eddie. Had he not tried to help Chrissy or run off, maybe Eddie could have protected you from the Upside Down and his own personal demise. Over the last three days by himself, Eddie tried to imagine what it would have been like. Maybe he would have been safe and completely clueless of the alternate universe, all with you by his side. Instead now he was sitting on a musty hotel bed, eating out of tin cans while you still cared for him as if nothing had changed. Everything was falling apart around you, even though you trudged on as if the world wasn’t ending and Eddie wasn’t a wanted criminal. He could swear you still looked at him like he hung the moon.

Maybe he was reading things wrong, or maybe he just didn’t care, but Eddie knew he had to tell you how he felt before it was all too late. There were too many close calls in the last week for him to count; each one nudging him closer to confessing his feelings for you like he was written into a Shakespearean Tragedy. Silence had settled in the motel room, you rubbing along Eddie’s knuckles and twisting his rings around his fingers occasionally. Eddie knew you were doing it to calm yourself more than him, but there was something so endearing about the way your hands fit perfectly in his. Eventually after the silence began to stretch, you stood from the bed and started collecting discarded wrappers and cigarette butts. Truly keeping the hotel room clean wouldn’t make a huge difference, but you wanted to try to keep Eddie as comfortable as you could. A clean room, things from home, and your presence was as good as you could do for now.

Baby, you were the love of my life, woah

Maybe you don't know what's lost 'til you find it

It's not what I wanted, to leave you behind

Don't know where you'll land when you fly

But, baby, you were the love of my life

“Yknow,” Eddie hesitates, messing with the rings on his fingers and missing the way your hands felt in his. “I’m so in love with you,” he says just above a whisper. You stop your cleaning of the hotel room to look at Eddie. He sits cross-legged on the bed, his shoes tossed aside, denim jeans and Hellfire shirt bunched from his position. You move slowly to the edge of the bed, sinking down to sit near him.

Eddie sniffles, rubbing a hand over his face before continuing, “I- I know it’s not fair to tell you that now. Fuck.” Eddie’s heart slams against his chest, the confession weighing heavy on him. “I wasted so much time in my own head, but then all of this? How could I not tell you…I just love you so much.”

You reach out to rest a hand on his lap, “Eddie-”

“No,” he raises a hand to stop you, his eyes pleading. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want you to say something you’ll regret. I just needed you to know you were the love of my life.”

You feel as if your ribs have been cracked open, your heart on full display, “were?”

“I’m still so painfully in love with you,” Eddie looks down at his hands again. “But this is no life for you. Living out of duffle bags and eating cold mush from tin cans. I know the trailer wasn’t much better, but Christ- at least it was a home.”

“Eddie,” you try to speak again. “I don’t care where we are. As long as I’m with you.” You rest your hand on his thigh, rubbing your thumb over his jeans. Fear has lingered in Eddie’s eyes for the last few days, but you could swear he’s never looked more scared than he does right now. Your eyes have gone misty as you watch your best friend mumble into his lap, replaying every word he just spoke.

“I think I’ve loved you for longer than I even knew,” Eddie sniffles, twirling a ring around his middle finger. Eddie reaches for his song book from where you placed it on the bedside table, “I didn’t even realize it at first.” He flips through the worn pages once before setting it back down, “I just started thinking about you, then I would write about you. I couldn’t stop. I’m so stupid– fuck. What idiot falls in love with their best friend?”

You know the question is rhetorical, yet you can’t help but answer anyway. “I guess that makes me an idiot, too.”

The fear in Eddie’s chocolate eyes melts into what looks like a mixture of hope and admiration. His hand is hesitant as he reaches for the crook of your elbow; you can tell from his movements he wants you closer, but doesn’t want you to run off. You take it upon yourself to raise on your knees, crawling over to him as Eddie keeps his hand on your arm. Eddie uncrosses his legs while he leans back on the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches you. You straddle his legs, sitting down on his lap and clasping your hands behind his head. You stroke your fingers through his curls while his breathing remains uneasy. Eddie’s deep brown eyes trail up from your connected waists to find your eyes. Your fingers ghosting over the skin of his neck, your index finger running over the bruised skin near his pulse point. He had nearly died three days ago from injuries from the demo-bats, but he lived and had the scars to prove it. You lean forward and place a gentle kiss on the healing wound, your movements are tender and soft. Every breath you take has matched the rhythm of Eddie’s: slow and nervous.

“Eddie,” you repeat his name again. You take a deep breath, “tell me to stop.”

“No- no,” Eddie jolts, placing his hands on your hips to ground you onto him. “I’ve just- I have thought about this for so long. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“You won’t, we won’t. ” you insist, twirling one of his curls around your finger. “I want you Eddie, I always have.”

It's unfortunate

Just coordinates

Eddie lunges forward to capture your lips with his. The kiss feels like the catalyst of the last few years of pining; it's clumsy and wet, but somehow perfect. The cool rings that cover Eddie’s fingers dig into your hips as he grips you closer to him. Eddie brushes his tongue against your lips gently causing you to open your mouth with a soft moan.

“Eds–” you mumble against his mouth, but Eddie doesn’t answer. He's too fixated on how you feel against him. The rubbing of your jeans against his, your hands in his hair, your mouth meshed with his. You grind your hips down in a swift circular motion, earning a groan from Eddie. You use the break in the kiss to move your mouth over the stubble on his jaw and down his neck. His skin is warm against your mouth, trailing your lips up to the junction between his jaw and ear. You suck gently, grazing your teeth over his soft skin to mark him. Mine. Your hands still remain tangled in his curls, lightly tugging at the roots while your hips continue to move against him. Eddie’s length swells beneath you, his cock pressing against your warmth as you grind on his jeans.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie pants, squeezing your hips. You pull back from his neck with a grin, tilting your face as you look at him. “Jesus– fuck. We need these off.” Eddie slips his fingers under the seam of your tee shirt, pulling the fabric over your face and tossing it behind you. He traces the edge of your bra with his fingers, the lace tickling your skin as he does. In one swift motion, Eddie flips you onto your back attaching his lips to your newly exposed skin. He trails open mouth kisses down the center of your chest to the edge of your jeans. His cool fingers play with the button on your pants for a moment before he undoes them and ditches the denim behind him on the floor.

“Perfect,” Eddie comments as his eyes scan over your body only left in your underwear. Your cheeks flush, feeling self conscious under his stare. You’ve been in bathing suits, hell even your underwear, in front of Eddie countless times…but this is different. It’s raw, intimate and it’s changing everything. “Look at me, Princess.”

You hesitate to bring your gaze back to Eddie, but when you do his face splits into an even more bashful grin. “You’re so perfect.”

“Eddie,” is all you’re able to say before his mouth meets yours again. Eddie kisses you like he’s trying to make up for lost time while also trying to take things slow enough to memorize them. He moves his lips away from yours to leave sloppy kisses on the base of your neck. Your fingers tangle in his hair again, tugging him away from your skin to get him to look at you.

“You’re wearing too much,” you protest with a smile. Your small hands play with the latch on his belt, urging it open. A deep chuckle comes from Eddie as he watches you try and push his jeans down. He lifts off of you momentarily, which causes you to whine. The noise is so pretty, Eddie is sure he could cum from the sound alone. Leaning back on his knees, Eddie pulls his tee over his head ruffling his curls in the process. You lean forward to brush the hair away from his face, tucking a stray piece behind his ears. Immediately Eddie softens, his cheeks blushing to match yours. Eddie’s flustered under your gaze; he’s never had someone look at him the way you do. You’re giving him the look again where it seems like he hung the moon — and it’s because you do believe it. You just need him to believe it too. Your gentle fingers dip over the lines on his torso, gracing carefully over the bandages clinging to his skin. The soft white gauze covers his side and a few smaller bandages cling to his chest; you knew he was injured, but seeing the wounds for yourself is daunting.

You run a finger over the larger bandage on his left side. Your mind races as you look back at him, “are you sure you’re okay to-”

“Yes,” Eddie replies before you can finish your question. His eyes linger on your hands on his torso. He knows what you’re asking…and logically he should rest and not stress his recovering body. But he’ll be damned if he lets the Upside Down take this moment too.

I don't know you half as well as all my friends

I won't pretend that I've been doing everything I can

To get to know your creases and your ends

Are they the same?

The rest of your clothes and Eddie’s are off in a flash being tossed to the floor without a second thought. Eddie’s hands roam over the soft expanses of your skin, basking in every piece of your body and how it feels under his touch. He tries to memorize this feeling — he’s doing everything he can to get to know your creases, dimples, freckles. Everything. You squirm under him, moving your hands up and down Eddie’s biceps as he traces your skin. He drags his cool rings over the valley between your breasts before cupping your cheek, a smirk still pulling at his lips. Eddie presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth while rolling his hips into yours. A gasp falls from your lips as you feel his length rub against you; Eddie continues to move his hips while you reach between your close bodies. Your hands reach his cock, stroking it once as Eddie moans your name into the crook of your neck. You continue to work your hand over him, pumping at an excruciating pace. Eddie’s hair tickles your neck as he hangs his head, panting from your touch. Subconsciously, you rub your thighs together desperate for any type of friction. Eddie feels you shift under him, trying to relieve the tension building in your cunt. As much as Eddie would love to see you come undone just from touching him and the slow rubbing of your thighs — he can’t have you doing everything on your own. He pushes away from where his hands are gripping the bed sheets to slip between your legs. You moan as Eddie reaches your clit, rubbing slow circles against the bundle of nerves.

“Need, I- I need,” your thoughts are jumbled as Eddie’s fingers work and you continue to palm his length.

“C’mon pretty,” Eddie coos, finally lifting his head away from your neck to look at you. “Tell me what you need. Anything you want, Princess. Name it.”

“I need you, Teddy,” you lock your focus on Eddie’s deep eyes. His hungry and lustful demeanor softens, leaning down to kiss you slow and sweet. His fingers never stop their motions on your folds, but they slow down as Eddie deepens the kiss. He sucks and nips at your bottom lip, trying desperately not to smile and break the kiss. Eddie’s heart and mind still can’t keep up with the fact that you’re here. She’s mine, he thinks while finally pulling away. Your eyes roll back as Eddie moves his hand deeper into your folds, curling two digits into your pussy.

“You’re the only person,” Eddie plants more kisses on your collarbone in between his words. “That I’ll- shit- I’ll ever allow to use that name.”

“Yeah?” You ask, moving your hand lower on his bulge to carefully brush your fingertips over his balls.

Eddie groans at your movements, he could burst into your hand right now if you kept touching him like this. “God- fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You grin at his words and respond with a simple: “show me.”

Eddie shakes his head with a coy smile, pulling his hand away from your center and moving yours away from his length. You simply move your hands from between you to drape them around Eddie’s neck. Eddie lowers himself down to his forearms, brushing his cock against your sensitive bud as he moves. He doesn’t waste time capturing your lips again while he sinks into your cunt, both of you moaning at the feeling. Your eyes have fluttered shut as Eddie continues to nip and kiss your mouth. He’s only half way in, easing himself at a slow pace, “you still with me?”

“No,” you sarcastically quip back. Your eyes are heavy, but you open them to look at Eddie. “Keep going, I’m okay.”

Eddie nods quickly, pushing forward on his forearms; every inch of Eddie’s length sinks into you as he continues to press kisses along your jaw. He stills inside you for a moment as you move your hands carefully around his bandages to grip his back. Eddie rolls his hips panting against your skin as he clings to you; his right hand grips the cheap hotel sheets while his left presses into the dip of your thigh. Definitely creating a bruise. Eddie finds his rhythm quickly, every inch of his skin slapping against yours as he thrusts in and out of you. You moan into his shoulder, gripping his back and pulling his hips closer with your legs. Eddie hangs his head near your chest, licking and gently biting at your nipples. He glances down between your two bodies to watch where you’re connected; he wants to see what’s his. Eddie moans as he sees his own cock disappear into your wet walls, sliding in and out with ease.

“Jesus H–” Eddie curses, stuck in a trance as he continues to watch. “I’m not gonna last long.”

“Eddie,” you pant, placing wet kisses on his broad shoulder. “Eddie, I meant what I said–”

Your mind is complete mush as he relentlessly pounds into you, but you know you have to tell him. You have to make sure he knows.

“What?” He lifts his head from where it's been hanging on your chest. His dark brown eyes roam over your face, raising an eyebrow as he looks at you. “I-” you struggle to find your words as your core pulses over Eddie’s cock. You clench your walls around him and Eddie stifles a moan into your chest, hanging his head down again. His hips slam into you, never letting up as the two of you grow closer to your climax. “Eddie,” you urge him to look at you again. “I love you.”

“Oh god,” Eddie growls, surging forward to capture your mouth with his. His lips melt into yours like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Your moans continue to break through the kiss, but Eddie isn’t phased in the slightest. He kisses you like a man possessed as his hips continue to thrust into you. Mindlessly, you clench your soft walls around Eddie’s length again just as your fingers scrape against the toned muscles of his back. Eddie pulls away from your mouth with a sloppy, wet smile, “Fuck- I love you.”

You feel your core tighten at his words, Eddie’s cock pulsing inside of you, both of you nearing release. You feel like you’re melting into the sheets, Eddie’s slick body shaking above you as his mouth hangs open. Eddie’s hips have fallen into a hurried pace, chasing his high while you fall apart under him. You trail your fingers away from his sides, gripping the roots of Eddie’s curls near the nape of his neck. “I love you,” you repeat the words to Eddie, feeling your climax approaching fast. Eddie continues to fuck you with every ounce of him, moaning over and over as you come undone. Your eyes roll back as you pulse around Eddie, falling limp on the sheets with shaky legs. Eddie keeps his pace throughout your high, riding you through it.

“Teddy,” you mumble in a haze. Your vision clears as you reach for his jawline, stroking your thumb over his plush lips. “Come for me, please. Need to feel you.” You beg as if you're asking for your own orgasm; you just need to see Eddie while he spills into you. His lips parted, pupils blown, hair matted to his skin from sweat, the bandages on his body contrasting his warm skin. Yet, he’s never looked more perfect than he does right now.

“Shit- shit,” Eddie curses, his hips snapping once more into your dripping cunt before he releases himself into you. Eddie cums harder than he ever has, collapsing down onto your chest muttering: “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You brush your fingers through his hair softly, moving away his sweaty bangs to press a kiss to his forehead. Your chests stick together as you try to sync your breathing; Eddie continues to mumble sweet praises into your skin, pressing kisses on any part he can reach. Reluctantly, Eddie leans away from you pulling out his softening length as you whine from the loss of contact. He sits back on his knees, “holy shit.” Eddie watches your puffy clit and folds clench, his cum dripping from you while mixed with your own arousal. You whine again as Eddie lifts off the bed, leaving you overstimulated and fucked-out.

“No-” you pout, opening your eyes slowly.

“I know, sweetheart. Give me a second, I’m coming right back.”

Eddie walks away from the bed, his naked body is blurry as your eyes struggle to stay open. Moments later, the bed dips as Eddie scoops his arms under you, lifting you off the sheets and carrying you to the small hotel bathroom. The lull of running water fills the room, fog building up inside the bathroom. Eddie presses a small kiss to your hairline before setting you down on the bathmat near the shower. A comfortable silence falls between you and Eddie, he steps under the shower offering his hand to you. You smile and grab his hand, holding onto him as you both stand under the spray. Eddie takes his time rinsing you off, washing your hair and body; his touches are slow, but purposeful. You turn in Eddie’s arms as he finishes your hair, looking up at him as water droplets catch on your eyelashes.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you trace the edge of his large bandage on his ribs, carefully pulling away the padding. Using a feather-light touch, you pull off the other gauze pads and gently rinse Eddie’s healing sides. He hisses as the water splashes some of the sore spots, gripping your arm for balance.

“Sorry-” he stutters, turning his gaze down to the tub floor.

“Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Eddie's timid eyes find yours again as he watches you clean and care for each of his wounds. You use your cupped hands to run the water over his skin, trying to avoid any unnecessary pain. After a few more minutes, Eddie turns the water off and opens the shower curtain. The bathroom is filled with so much steam you can barely see two feet in front of you. Eddie reaches for a towel, draping it over your shoulders and poking your nose. You scrunch the tip of your nose, sticking out your tongue as he smirks.

Baby, you were the love of my life, woah

Maybe you don't know what's lost 'til you find it

It's not what I wanted, to leave you behind

Don't know where you'll land when you fly

But, baby, you were the love of my life

You tend to each of Eddie’s injuries with cautious movements and extra care. He finally gave in and sat down on the toilet, his towel wrapped snugly around his waist. Occasionally, you have him lift his arms to get a better look at the healing scars before covering them with clean bandages. It only takes a couple of minutes to replace them all and cover each with ointments, but Eddie feels like his mind is slowing down every moment with you — he wants to savor every second before you have to leave him again. He didn’t want to leave you behind, but he had no choice. Just like you had no choice but to keep him far away from Hawkins. Eddie’s eyes are heavy by the time you finish patching him up, he nearly falls forward half asleep. He’s been on the run for so long at this point that he hasn’t had a moment to truly rest. His nights have been sleepless and nightmare filled; his days are full of his face on the news, and horrifying updates on everything and everyone in his hometown. Yet, as soon as you came through his doorway today he felt like he could finally breathe. Eddie doesn’t realize he’s been staring into space until you wave a slow hand in front of him, “Eddie?”

“Tired,” is all he manages to say before rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. You offer him a weak smile and tug him out of the bathroom. Eddie plops down on the bed, towel hanging dangerously low on his hips; his happy trail even more visible as Eddie dramatically stretches. You press a quick kiss to the pudge of his lower belly, butterflies erupting in his chest as you continue to act so tenderly. He opens his eyes again to find you offering him a clean pair of boxers. After a second of contemplation, Eddie takes the clothes and slips them on before crawling under the covers. He lays sprawled on his back, left arm tucked under his head while the right stays wide open, inviting you in. You slip under the comforter with him, nuzzling into his side without any hesitation. Eddie tries not to stare too long at the fact that you’re finally wearing his shirt. He had foolishly dreamt of the day you would wear his clothes, and not just in a best friend-in-need-of-clothes-way. But rather in a domestic, romantic sense that makes Eddie all fuzzy inside.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Eddie confesses, staring down at you. You’ve successfully curled yourself into his side, getting as close as humanly possible.

Your small fingers trace shapes onto the tattooed portions of Eddie’s skin, “I don’t either.”

“Wish we could just run away from this fucking town.”

“Me too,” you admit, but quickly feel the guilt. “We just can’t leave them.” You press a kiss to the side of his ribs, just above the bandage.

Eddie doesn’t respond because he knows you’re right, but he just wishes for once he could run and it would be for a good reason… to save you. His fingers start to mimic the shapes you’ve made on his skin as Eddie runs his hands up and down your back.

“As soon as we know everyone is safe, we’ll run,” you promise, resting your chin on his chest to fully look at him. Eddie nods, his eyes feeling heavy once again and his body finally feeling peace.

“Rest baby,” you say just as Eddie starts to let the sleep take over. “Go to sleep and we’ll run away in the morning.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Eddie mumbles with his eyes still shut.

“You didn’t ask me,” you remind him. “I offered.”

You press one more kiss to the sensitive scar near his pulse point on his neck before settling into his side. You’re not sure if you will run away in the morning, or at all, but if it’ll get Eddie to finally rest you’ll tell him whatever you can. The world around you is so unsure and dangerous that it doesn’t matter what your plans are for the next day — it could all change in an instant. So instead of worrying about plans, monsters, or alternate universes, you enjoy this moment.

Eddie mutters a quick and quiet: “I love you” before he finally slips into a peaceful rest, feeling safe and content with you tucked into his side. You smile up at him even though he’s already asleep before you answer.

“You’ve always been the love of my life, Eddie.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

ahhh the last of the harrys house series :( thank you all for the love on these, its been so amazing to see everyone’s reactions to all of them xx

to find the rest of the series click here

✭masterlist ✭ requests

-meg

#eddie munson #eddie munson writing #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fics #st x harrys house #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #stranger things x you

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 7 months

Text

the boy is mine (H's Version)

hi, no long no see in this fandom. but @carolmunson put out a call for writers and I wanted to dive in! see her prompt: here.

It's a romantic night in and that means that sometimes a lot of feelings come out.

Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: This is a lot of fluff, but some minor heated moments. Post S4, cannon divergent.

______________

The day was boiling--no breeze to cut through the stiff air. But now, as the evening settles, the curtains from the open windows billow just a little. The air is a whisper on the back of your neck as you bring your knees up to your chest. The notebook slips down just a little on your thighs, but you push it back up to get the right angle. Eddie will undoubtedly have a snide remark about your position, but you know the moment he settles back down on the couch, he too will be curled up. Most likely around you, and you’re praying the night gets just a little bit cooler to withstand the walking furnace that is Eddie.

“Fuck me,” Eddie groans.

You look up from the work you’ve been doing in coloring in the drawing Eddie sketched out earlier in the day to find Eddie frantically swinging open cabinet doors. He opens another door, without closing the other. Disaster flashes before your eyes. Stitches, a bloody puddle on the floor, should Eddie not be careful and--

Thunk! “Son of a bitch!” Eddie howls, holding the back of his head. In all his hurry, he popped up from the cabinets at the bottom only to smack his head on the corner of one of the open cabinet doors.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” you call out with a giggle.

“Looks like 16,” Eddie calls out, eyes narrowed in a squint. There’s only four fingers up.

“Hmm, I think you’re fine,” you laugh but push up off the couch. There’s the slight shuffle, the almost silent peel of feet off the tiled over kitchen floor. Part of it due to the whatever waxy cleaner you’ve convinced Wayne to use. “Let me see,” you command gently after your approach.

“Careful now, I’m fragile,” Eddie pouts but pulls hand away from the spot.

“Gonna need a flashlight to get through this thicket,” you tease but gingerly touch at his scalp. There’s nothing damp so you don’t think there’s blood. Eddie tenses under your touch. “Sorry,” you whisper. It doesn’t stop the assessment, but you are more mindful of the pressure you’re using.

“It’s okay,” Eddie returns his voice soft like yours.

“What are you even looking for?” So far, you don’t think he broke skin. One good thing, but you are a little worried about something deeper too.

“A cup. I could’ve sworn I did dishes,” Eddie huffs. “I’m running out of, like nice cups.” You watch Eddie point to the plastic cup on the counter--ones that you’re pretty sure were holding some sort of soda from a gas station in their first life. “Those are the only ones left.”

“Honey,” you coo, urging Eddie to turn around. He doesn't budge, but you press into his back, right above his hip and he turns then. “Those cups are fine.”

“No they’re not,” he sighs.

“And what makes them not okay, huh?”

“You deserve your Coke in a chalice. Not the 7-11 trash.”

“Perhaps I consider 7-11 cups a chalice,” you return, pressing Eddie’s cheeks together. His lips bubble at the force and you plant a kiss on them. He tastes vaguely like vanilla. The frosting off the cupcakes you two shared earlier still paints his lips sweet even though it’s been a couple hours since they’ve been consumed.

“You know you don’t and so do I,” Eddie whispers against your lips. His hands find your hips.

“Hmm, I think I could be convinced.”

“You sure they’re okay?”

“Cups won’t ruin the night, I promise.”

You don’t need anything fancy. You never have. But you get it. You know Eddie’s always going to want to give you the best. The thing you just wish you could convince himself off is that it’s his best that matters. Whatever Eddie gives you is the best because it’s him--it’s him giving it to you. But you don’t think the words will penetrate. Eddie’s hard headed in his own way, stubborn to his core when he wants to be so you hope that actions do speak louder than words.

You seal your lips around his again and hum into the kiss when Eddie tugs you in closer. He’d promised a night in--dinner, movies, laughs, anything and everything as long as it was just the two of you. And he’d delivered thus far. Pizza had been called and delivered promptly. When you asked if he had any more Cokes from the case you brought over a week ago, he proudly declared he’d left the last two just for you. Your requests for a cup is what started this, but cups don’t mean a thing when all you’re thinking about is how the scent of Eddie presses against your nostrils and into your lungs like heaven.

You’ve missed him--missed this. Your new job took more time than your old one. Not a bad thing considering that it was only an extra hour, but it meant having a new routine. It meant one hour less in your day for you to get through the slog of laundry, and dishes, and bills, and errands so that you could sit like a schoolgirl on the phone, twirling your fingers around the cord to talk to Eddie on the phone when you couldn’t visit him. Weekends now are more sacred than ever and you cherish the thought of being able to spend quality time with your boy.

Eddie’s fingers press through the cotton of your shorts. He tugs you closer, and closer, and closer to his body. He’s warm--as always. But beyond that, beyond the wild curls that always call out to your fingers to be tugged on, or just caressed, Eddie is real beneath your fingers. Through the cotton of his t-shirt, you know what lies beneath. But you are grateful that the t-shirt is still warm. Arousal settles into your stomach, tightening your muscles as Eddie drags his fingers up your spine. But you pull back, the wet echoing smack of a broken kiss hanging between two of you as you both pant.

“If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem,” you laugh as Eddie’s teasing touch moves further and further south on your body.

“Maybe I’m looking for a problem,” he teases.

“I am looking for a cup to put my Coke in to have pizza with my boyfriend while we watch movies we’ve seen a billion times. Because you are trouble.”

“You started it,” Eddie squawks indignantly. “You kissed first!”

His hand doesn’t stop traveling. He’s cupping you over the shorts and the ache hits you--bone deep but you don’t falter in your resolve. “Pizza. Movie.” It’s all you say before peeling yourself from Eddie’s hold. “Bring the chalices please,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk back to the couch.

Eddie snorts but you hear his shuffled steps behind you and you know he is following. The lid to the pizza box is flipped back and the melted cheese greets you with a hefty waft. You grab a slice, the cheese pulling slowly away from its neighboring pieces. Eddie grabs a napkin and holds it just under the slice which you can only assume is threatening to drip grease onto the carpet or your lap.

“Three good things,” Eddie commands as he reaches for his own slice, asking for the details of three good things that happened in your day.

You hum around your bite, the pizza still hot just a little as you recount the day. “I’m no longer on the probationary period at work as of yesterday which is great. No one’s breathing down my back anymore. I finally got those jeans hemmed. And I get to enjoy pizza with my boyfriend. Three things--your turn.”

“I got the interview for the record shop,” Eddie starts. “I actually finished a drawing, speaking of which, I swear if you get grease on it,” he laughs pulling the notebook from your lap and tossing it floor away from the coffee table.

“Sorry, sorry,” you rush out. “I’m still working on coloring it though. Forgot.”

“No harm, no foul. And lastly, I, too, am getting to enjoy pizza with my lovely partner, who did not do such a great job at making sure I wasn’t concussed.”

“I’m newly licensed to sell insurance. I am not licensed to make sure you’re not a walking threat to your own safety.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek--wet and greasy, but you don’t shy away from it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, turning to look at Eddie. His gaze is soft, big eyes dripping with sincerity. You think you can feel the adoration radiating off him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I love you, you know.”

Your first inclination is to shove it off with a joke. But you can imagine how well that would go--not well at all. “You’re going to make me blush,” you huff, ducking your head.

“Aw, no, don’t be like that. Let me see it. Let me see you blush,” Eddie laughs, reaching out to bring your head up by a gentle tug on your chin.

Your face is hot; you can feel it warming the longer Eddie takes you in. His gaze is intense, eyes taking in everything from hairline to chin. You watch the flick of his gaze, as he stares down at your nose, back up to your eyes. His smile is soft and sweet, like the stroke of his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I’m going to make you proud,” Eddie whispers unlike his normal bravado. Where you know Eddie carries himself with the mask, the loud and brash man unafraid, the quietest remarks are the ones that usually send you into a flatline.

“You should make yourself proud,” you correct. You’d be a flimsy goal--something akin to trash billowing in a strong wind. It could change all in an instant.

“Making you proud makes me proud.”

“I’m already proud of you.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to duck, hair falling into a wavy curtain around his face. You discard your crust--which you’re more than likely never going to fish--to a corner of the box and find Eddie’s face behind his hair. “No, you can’t hide either.” Your thumb strokes along his jaw and his eyes flutter close. “Tell me,” you return softly but it’s clear you want an answer, “Do you like that? Being told you’re making someone proud?”

“And you’re telling me you don’t?” Eddie scoffs.

“Oh, no, I do. But I just want to hear you say it.”

“I like being told I’m making someone proud.” The sentence wavers at first, like Eddie might not be sure he can even get the words out. But the end is strong. Like the mere utterance is enough to solidify the truth within.

“I’ll make sure I tell you more often then, okay?”

“Okay.”

His gaze drifts down and you know what he’s asking for, so you press in, lips sealing his again. A kiss soft enough that even you think twice if it’s real or not. Eddie hums this time, when you pull away, his head pressing into your shoulder. You can feel the smile on his face as his lips brush over your bicep.

“Your slices are going to get cold,” you tease when Eddie stays buried in your shoulder for another minute. The third slice you’d been reaching for will go cold too, but that matters much less.

“Let it,” he hums, burrowing now in your armpit.

You grab the TV remote before you reach behind yourself to make sure the throw pillow is in place against the arm of the couch for an added layer of cushion. Once you’re sure that it’s in the position you want it, you recline back and open your arms for Eddie to crawl into. He wastes not a second to settle his head onto your chest.

“Good thing we’ve got microwaves now, right?” you tease, pressing play for the VHS.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger thing imagine #h writes

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thisapplepielife · 5 months

Text

Written for a @astrangersummer.

What You Need For Today

Looking through the glass door of the cooler, Dustin at his side, Lucas checks out all his options. They all kind of look the same to him, to be honest. Different colors aside, they are just flowers wrapped in paper or arranged in vases.

He can't stand here forever, so he opens the door and reaches for the nearest bouquet, one wrapped in a pale blue.

"That looks like it's for a new baby! She didn't have a baby!" Dustin snaps, shoving him out of the way. Lucas moves away from the door, willingly. He isn't sure what he should pick, doesn't have the brain power left to decide, so any help, even if it's just Dustin steamrolling him, will be better than nothing.

Dustin is rifling through the options, touching them all far too rough, and Lucas doesn't want to be associated with this at all. The florist isn't looking, isn't paying any attention to either of them, but Lucas is not in the mood to be yelled at. Not today.

The place has had a steady stream of customers, in and out, and he assumes that's because so many people are still hurt, still grieving, after the town was ripped to shreds. And those who stayed need to do something, anything, to feel like they're helping. And buying flowers, that's normal, a relic remaining from before.

He understands that, deeply.

Dustin is still making a spectacle of choosing, so Lucas looks over his shoulder, and sees Erica sitting on the bench by the door of the shop, feet scuffing against the tile of the floor, ever so slightly. Uncharacteristically quiet. The way she's been since, well, since. He wishes she'd get up and come over and have an opinion just as strong as Dustin's.

Embarrass him, shame him, anything.

But she doesn't.

"You need to get these," Dustin finally declares, picking up a huge bundle of red roses.

"I can't afford those," Lucas hisses, because while he doesn't know the price, he knows they are damn well out of his price range. His allowance is good, but it's not that good.

"Can you put a price on love?" Dustin asks, like it's that simple.

Lucas takes the flowers from him, and puts them back, "Not those. Someday. But not today."

Dustin rolls his eyes, "Fine. Be a dumbass. See if I care."

And Lucas just stares through the glass, again. Still unsure.

He isn't sure how long he's stood there, mulling, unable to choose, when he hears from behind them, "What are you little dickheads doing here?"

Oh, thank god. Steve.

Maybe he can rein in Dustin, or at the very least, distract him.

"What are you doing here?" Dustin crows, like he's caught Steve doing something he shouldn't be.

"None of your business, you little twerp. And I asked you first," Steve says, and Dustin is getting wound up, Lucas can see it.

"Help me pick flowers for Max," Lucas says in a rush, cutting Dustin off before he has the chance to derail this opportunity.

"Well, you can't go wrong with red roses," Steve says, and Dustin throws his hands up in an 'I told you so' motion.

That's not enough for Dustin, it never is, he has to rub salt in the wound, given an opportunity, so Dustin adds, "I told you so."

"I know, I know," Lucas says, conceding, "but I don't think that's, uh, exactly, right," Lucas says, "for the…occasion."

And Steve nods, like he's understanding what Lucas is laying down.

"Of course, you're totally right," Steve agrees, arm draped over his shoulders as he's standing next to him, also looking, while Dustin prances around impatiently.

Lucas is leaning towards the yellow bouquet. It's pretty, and bright, and would really liven up Max's hospital room. Even if she can't see it. Even if she'll never know it's there.

When he brings her red roses, he wants her to know it.

"How about the yellow?" Steve asks, finger pushed against the glass, pointing at the arrangement that Lucas was contemplating.

"That's what I was thinking," Lucas admits, happy to have confirmation that it's a good pick.

"Max will love them," Steve says, and reaches in and plucks them out of the cooler, handing them to Lucas, then demands, "Henderson, go get him a blank get well soon card from the counter."

Dustin grumbles about it, but blunders away.

Once he's gone, Steve's voice is low, "You got enough, Sinclair? If not, I can loan you some cash."

It's nice. Steve is really Dustin's friend. Or even Erica's, in a weird way. But he still shows up when he's needed, and it hasn't gone unnoticed.

"Thanks, Steve. But I think I do."

And Steve just nods, turning back towards the cooler, reaching in and grabbing a big bundle of the red roses.

Dustin reappears, and they both stare at Steve.

Steve looks back at them, "What are you little shitheads looking at? It's a classic, and I like what I like. You don't mess with what works."

"And red roses? They work?" Lucas asks.

"I told you that, asshole," Dustin says, adding his two cents, yet again.

"For some occasions they definitely do, but these yellow ones? That's what you need for today," Steve reassures, and Lucas puffs out his chest, feeling happier, more confident about his decision.

They both pay, and on the way out, Steve stops in front of Erica and pulls one of the roses out of the bouquet in his hand, holding it out for her to take. She rolls her eyes, but gives him a smile, and it's one of the few Lucas has seen her offer up in days, weeks.

Erica takes the rose, and Steve lowers his hand over her head, like he's going to touch her hair. Lucas wouldn't recommend it, but she takes care of herself, like always.

"Watch it, nerd," she says, batting his hand away, and Steve stops short of touching her, but he's made her happy. Lucas can tell, and he wishes he'd have thought of it first. Maybe it wouldn't have been the same, coming from him, her brother. Maybe it had to come from Steve Harrington, the ringleader of her beloved Scoops Troop.

"Good thing you showed up, we need a ride home," Dustin demands, not asking, never asking.

"Maybe I have other places to be, Henderson. You ever think of that?" Steve snarks at him, holding up the roses, but he still unlocks his car, letting them all inside. Erica puts on her seatbelt beside him in the backseat, clutching the stem of the rose in her hands, looking out the window.

Lucas wonders when, if, things will ever go back to normal.

Dustin and Steve banter in the front seat, lobbing barbs back and forth that are familiar and normal, so Lucas supposes that's a start, at least.

Later that afternoon, Erica standing at his back, Lucas pauses in the doorway of the hospital room, listening to the steady beeps of all the machines keeping Max alive. The vase of yellow flowers in one hand, a new Stephen King book in the other. This time, he checked out Skeleton Crew from the library. It's a short story collection, and he likes the idea of having something new, something fresh, to read to her everyday during visiting hours.

A new story for a new day.

She's still asleep, body still broken and trying to mend, and it squeezes at his heart. He doesn't know when they'll let her try to wake up. How long it might be, even if it has already felt like forever. Her hair is braided to the side, bold red against the white pillow, and that means El must have been here earlier.

The vinyl creaks as Erica sits down on the couch behind him. She's been a near constant presence at his side since the Creel house. She goes where he goes, and he honestly has no complaints.

He places the flowers on Max's end table, and scoots the chair up as close to her bed as he can get it. Once he's situated, he cracks open the book, smoothing his hands over the borrowed pages, holding it in his lap, as he begins to read.

"This is what happened. On the night that the worst heat wave in northern New England history finally broke..."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

Notes: The end book snippet is from The Mist, the first entry in Skeleton Crew.

#a stranger summer #week three #prompt: flowers #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: a stranger summer #lucas sinclair #lucas x max #lumax #lumax fic #dustin henderson #steve harrington #dustin & steve #steve & erica #scoops troop #erica sinclair #max mayfield #sinclair siblings

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simstichy · 1 year

Text

ECO LIFESTYLE ADDON WINDOW PART 2

New 4 tiles wide window

Short+Medium+Tall wall ✅

7 swatches to match the original

English + Spanish title and description

Search for my CC by typing 'EstenzoLarra' into the search bar

Made with S4S + Blender

All images are taken in-game

Part 2/3

Check part 1 -> here

🔽Download under the cut 🔽

DOWNLOAD[BG] -> SFS(MERGED)

DOWNLOAD [NOT BG] -> SFS(MERGED)

OTHER -> SFS(FOLDER) | MODTHESIMS

#ts4cc #ts4mm #maxis match #og content #ts4 #ts4 custom content #download #ts4 addon #addon #the sims #the sims 4 #sims 4 maxis match #sims 4 creator #sims 4 cc #sims 4 #build mode #modding

164 notes · View notes

sims4clutterchaos · 6 months

Text

"Dark & Stormy" Kitchen & Pool

It's Oh So Goth!

I've had multiple requests to upload my latest two rooms in my Goth Mansion to the Gallery- the Kitchen and the Indoor Pool.

Both are now available as single rooms on the Gallery: Dark & Stormy Pool Dark & Stormy Kitchen My Gallery ID is: daniandnick

CC lists are below:

The Dark and Stormy Pool CC List:

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The Dark & Stormy Kitchen CC List

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AnYe_tuscany_woodenboardsandveggies.package

ATS4_object_kitchenherbs_parsley_pot.package

Destruam - holmes bedroom - fireplace accessories.package

Destruam - holmes bedroom - Merged.package

SYB_Karaoke_wallplant_2T.package

[novvvas] Boho Deco - AMPM Vase 1.package

AnYe_northsea_plant.package

myshunosun-2023-herbalist-kitchen-mushroom-basket.package

S4-Anachrosims-CampaignBoxOfMatches.package

SYB_Ohlala_Bottle_Hersley.package

Severinka TS4 FestiveFoodDecor Asparagus.package

SIMc-TSR-NaturalisPantry-BasketLidWoven.package

ATS4_object_kitchenherbs_rosemary_pot.package

SYB_Ohlala_Bottle_BrooklynEngine.package

KHD_Elsweyr_Pot_v1.package

Destruam - marquis residence - jug.package

SYB_Ohlala_Bottle_RoyalCrest.package

Severinka TS4 FestiveFoodDecor Baked Turkey.package

SYB_Ratatouille_Clutter_Bread_basket.package

iyaS_TS4Cauldron040918.package

SYB_Country_kitchen_Glass_dome.package

Kyoto_Bucket.package

[AV] Downey Plant.package

SIXAMcc_kessler-kitchen-plant.package

kardofe_Kitchen containers_Sealed canister.package

SYB_Alaferme_Wall_Bell.package

[lilis-palace]_BUDAPEST-Window_GreenhouseCurvedWindow_4m.package

ShinoKCRS4FrenchQuarterGlassVase.package

KHD_Pantry_Bread.package

[Sims4Nicole] 1k Followers Gift Honey.package

SYB_Karaoke_wallplant_1T.package

NA_Mondstadt rose vase.package

SIXAMcc_BohoBathroom-Decorative-Plant-3.package

[Severinka] TS4 Christmas 2022 - table fir branch.package

[lilis-palace]_FOLKLORE-Deco_SmallerButterChurn.package

Tudor_door_double_2x1.package

Felixandre_Gothic_Revival_Exterior.package

Pierisim_PANTRY_PARTY_LeParfait_tall1.package

[Severinka] TS4 AlchemyLab - scull.package

CWB Rooster Hand Bell.package

Destruam - holmes bedroom - candle holder.package

CHATEAU_Kitchen_Island_Ending_2.package

padre_S4mesh Altanta orchids.package

KHD_Lorrania_Cookbook.package

iyaS_TS4SpoonWithSpices270219.package

CHATEAU_Shelf_Short.package

ShinoKCRS4FrenchQuarterGlassVase1.package

Joolster_Overgrown_Ivy.package

Pierisim_PANTRY_PARTY_Bowls.package

CHATEAU_Kitchen_Island_Ending_1.package

(Symphony) Garden lavander.package

smudgestickbasket_arsbotanica.package

JCTekkSims_Paneling14.package

Huge Love and Thank yous to the amazing Custom Content Creators that made this build possible- YOU are the reason that SIMS4 is so much fun!!

@felixandresims @severinka, @pierisim @thejim07 @anachrosims @jennisims @kerriganhouse @harrie-cc @kardofe @pilarcr @ats4 @syboubou

#sims 4 build #sims 4 custom content #sims 4 cc #sims 4 build mode #ts4cc #sims 4 goth #ts4 goth #ts4 custom content #ts4 community #ts4 screenshots #ts4 cc #ts4 simblr #ts4 goth kitchen #sims 4 goth kitchen #sims 4 goth pool #ts4

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tonight-i-may-see · 6 months

Text

The Archer (Aaron Hotchner Angst)

(Note: this fic is set during Hotch’s month off at the start of s5. Also this is my first non x reader post oooh)

warnings: ANGST, mentions of vomit, Spoilers for s3, the end of s4 and the start of s5 ahead, hotchniss if you squint

Word count: 1.2k

Inspo: The Archer - Taylor Swift

The apartment was far too quiet. Buzzing fluorescent lights the only ambience as an exhausted shell stared back at Aaron from the mirror. Showering was never this hard before, it wasn’t even a thought…yet here he was, physically unable to take his shirt off as panic constricts his stomach and throat. He didn’t need to see to be reminded- the wounds weren’t healed yet. Every time he moved he could feel Foyet over him, his hot, nauseating breath washing over his face-

Suddenly the pain is too real, the blade is tearing his flesh and any air trying to get into his lungs isn’t making it- it doesn’t just hurt, it aches, like his body is screaming for oxygen.

‘Haley.’ Say it-

‘Haley-’ He can’t get it out- he can’t breathe, he can’t speak- she’s not here, she can’t hear you, she can’t help-

Aaron heaves, slowly lowering himself to sit on the bathroom floor, his hands on the sink to support himself as tears blur his vision and burn his cold face. Another heave strains his throat, and he pulls himself to the toilet just as his body rejects any food he’d eaten that day. This was the new normal, every time he showered or even looked in the mirror it started, and it ended just like this: curled up on the bathroom floor and crying until it stopped or he passed out. It’s the former this time and after a few minutes of feeling like he’d never breathe air again, the lack of a reflection allows him to begin breathing deeper, eventually leaving him exhausted.

‘It’s dirty.’ is his first coherent thought when the feeling returns to his face and the sensation of debris from the grout on the tiled floor greets him.

They’d notice soon enough. The team. It’s hard to hide a problem like this from profilers- hell, it’s hard to hide it from anyone. Part of him wonders how Elle did it, how Gideon did, then he remembers how those tales ended…was that his destiny? To be alone? On the run from a past that would never truly leave? Is that why she left? She must’ve known in some way this was in the cards…she’d saved herself, really, but in doing so he’d ended up alone. Perhaps that was it for people like them. Rossi seemed happy enough, Morgan had an ever revolving door of women from wherever he’d found one swooning that week, and Reid and Prentiss couldn’t seem less interested in romance…sure, there were exceptions, but they were all happy.

Why was he not allowed that?

‘Who would want you now?’ The cynical side of him asked. ‘Divorced father, workaholic, Victim.’

The word had slipped from his mouth so easily over the years, but now it felt like a wound itself, one being dug into every single time anyone looked at him. A wound he loathed, one he’d sear shut himself if he could. God, he couldn’t stand what this all had done to him, every single passing insecurity he’d bottled up had been smashed out the moment he opened his eyes and saw Emily standing over him. Haley had been there since high school, she was his normal, what he could count on to stay stable- she knew him. Better than anyone. Now he couldn’t even go and see her to talk, see their son, all because of Foyet. It made him feel weak. Insecure. Emasculated. It was like he could feel Foyet’s smirk every time the feeling began to sink in.

“Hotch?”

A voice rings out in the main part of the apartment and makes him scramble to stand up and flush the toilet, quickly pretending he was just brushing his teeth, though his creased shirt and bloodshot eyes give him away pretty easily. He’d given Emily a key after she’d demanded to be allowed to check on him once a day. Technically he was signed off, so he folded and let her get one cut, now here she was standing in the doorway with those eyes again…the ones that make him want to curl back up on the floor and never move again.

“You okay?” She asks softly, reaching up to brush something off his face without thinking all that much about it. He nods, feeling like his voice is lost somewhere down his throat, though the excuse of a toothbrush in his mouth is pretty genius on his part. 'Good work.’ the cynical part of him taunts.

“Y’know, you can always stay in Rossi’s guest room…or mine.” Emily offers, concern still lacing her tone and making Aaron’s stomach churn. “You don’t have to stay here.”

Rossi wouldn’t want someone bothering him all the time, Aaron is sure of that, even if part of him is very aware that man would offer support in a heartbeat if he actually asked. ‘He wouldn’t mean it, you know that.’. As for Emily…he wasn’t sure. She’d made the team ages ago, there was no need to impress anyone, and as far as he knew she hadn’t even told the team about her visits…so why? She must have seen the cogs turning in his head, because she steps a little closer while he spits his toothpaste in the sink and rinses it.

“You threw up, Aaron…I can see the dots under your eyes.”

Periorbital petechiae. He can almost hear Reid firing up an information dump about it. He must’ve broken blood vessels with how hard he threw up, she was right. Before he can even try to talk, she cuts him off.

“Just for tonight? I could even stay here-”

“No.” It’s the first thing he’s said all day, a fact quickly revealed by just how rough his voice is.

Emily blinks at him, a little taken aback, but as always she’s quickly back to stubborn and determined. “You aren’t okay, Aaron. Look at yourself.”

Aaron turns to face her, a warning in his eyes that is a complete and utter bluff. He wants to be mean, push her away and force her out of the apartment- out of his personal life- but in the back of his mind a little boy with dark hair and freckles tugs at his hand. He wants to trust her, he wants to be held by her, he ‘foolishly’ wants her to make it all okay. But this is more than a scraped knee and tears ignored by a mother, this is pulling down a wall so old it has roots in every fibre of his being.

“Let me help you.” She urges, gently reaching to take his hand. When they make it to the couch, it feels like the force of sitting down has shaken the supports of his wall, like a dam threatening to spill.

“Aaron…” A crack forms, stinging his eyes and pushing a lump into his throat. He finally looks into her eyes, his vision starting to blur while he clenches his jaw.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Oh God-” He barely whispers before the wall collapses, his body now heaving with sobs. Emily takes it in her stride, wrapping her arms around him and slowly rocking him.

“I’m not going anywhere…” She repeats, one hand now rubbing his back. “I know it’s scary, I know…”

The words won’t come out, he physically can’t do it, but his eyes say enough for her to see what he’s asking.

‘Stay.’

#leowrites #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #emily prentiss #criminal minds angst #criminal minds

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