#shouting from the rooftops: eddie wants to fuck!!!!

[eddiegettingshot]

okay Im the anon that sent you that ask about shannon and eddie + physical and romantic attraction and like the people that think hes only physically attracted to buck/not attracted to women are crazy. he very clearly finds ana attractive when he first sees her and literally the only thing he knows about marisol and their relationship is that he likes to have sex with her (or at least they have a very active sex life). not to mention eddie and shannon using sex as a distraction from talking about their feelings and place in each others life (eddie did once say sex complicates everything). like could be comphet but idk it just reads to me as clearly he experiences physical attraction to these women and has has good physical relationships with them but has a tendency to confuse that with emotional attraction, which is why "nesting" with shannon was a bad idea both times probably and why he was so confused at the end of their relationship and why "nesting" with ana and marisol isnt working out like he thinks it will. and of course adjacent to this is he might not recognize the connection he has with buck as romantic because it is fundamentally different than the connections he has had with women that he views as people he had a strong romantic connection with. like despite the buddie and eddie/shannon parallels re:what eddie is trying to replicate when it comes to his emotional relationship with shannon, buck and eddie's connection even different than eddie and shannon because when their relationship was too emotionally taxing they both ran away (multiple times) but when eddie tried to run away from the 118 because working there was too much for him buck was there the whole time until eddie let him in. and not to say hes not physically attracted to buck but like attraction to men and women are not always the same and buck literally said in the last episode he thought he was staring at guy's asses for funsies lol. anyways thanks for accidentally indulging me because I would much rather write eddie meta than read shannon spec rn lmao

no this is soooooo right. and also buck saying "i think you mean the first woman you slept with" lol (so out of pocket).

the reason i think it's probably genuine attraction is because i think you could make a pretty strong case that eddie not only confuses the two, but actively (if subconsciously) tries to replicate emotional intimacy using sexual intimacy. he has sex and it feels really good, he feels close to someone, he's enjoying himself, she's enjoying herself... that part is easier for him than talking about anything or being vulnerable, and he likes it enough that he can convince himself that sexual connection and emotional connection are interchangeable.

like, with shannon, he wanted desperately to be emotionally close to her again but things were hard as fuck, so they kept sleeping together instead. and with marisol, he was sleeping with her enthusiastically up until the point where he didn't want to be emotionally close to her anymore; he learned something about her that made him question whether he even wanted her in his life and that was when he stopped wanting to have sex with her. and he very obviously thought ana was hot lol it's kind of undeniable.

not to go against the fanon grain, but i'm pretty sure eddie's issue with "casual" isn't that he doesn't want to fuck people he has no emotional connection with, it's that he wants to fuck first and decides afterwards that that means he must also want the emotional connection (real or imagined) that, in his experience, tends to follow (.....it happened with shannon). and because he's obsessed with finding love that feels like magic, well........... like i can see how sleeping with someone he's super attracted to, combined with his intense emotional repression, has historically made the confusion easy lol

[steddieas-shegoes]

wanna shout it from the rooftops

for @steddie-week prompt 'secret relationship'

rated m | 1397 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: secret relationship, established relationship, love confessions, making out, coming out

🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫

As soon as Dustin walked out the door, Eddie was backing Steve against the wall, lips on his neck, hands wandering across his arms and sides.

“God, I thought they’d never leave,” Steve gasped, throwing his head back as Eddie’s teeth bit into his collarbone. “Need you so fuckin’ bad, baby.”

“Looked so good in that apron. So unfair I couldn’t get my hands on you when you were making cookies for us,” Eddie groaned against his skin. “Wanna fuck you right here. Open you up on my tongue-“

“Sorry, Steve! Forgot my-“ Dustin’s voice stopped before Eddie could even register that he should pull away. “What the fuck!”

“Language!” Steve yelled as he shoved Eddie away from him, trying to fix his shirt and hair. Not that it would do any good; Dustin just got an eyeful already.

At least they weren’t naked. Yet.

“Please tell me you were fighting,” Dustin sounds distraught, which isn’t fair. He should’ve knocked.

“You spent months making me feel bad for not wanting to hang out with your new best friend and now you’re hoping we’re fighting?” Steve placed his hands on his hips, subtly trying to catch his breath and will his dick back to soft. “What about that looked like fighting to you? How have you not sat through sex ed yet?”

“You were having sex?!” Dustin’s voice cracked. “In the hall?!”

“Of my home!” Steve threw his arms up. “And no we weren’t having sex, but we were getting there.”

Eddie held his hands up, brain finally coming back online enough to intervene before things got out of hand.

“Okay. Dustin, why the hell are you even back?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

“And you decided to storm in here like it’s your house instead of knocking?” Steve was trying to take it easy, but everything was falling apart.

They’d kept their relationship a secret for nearly three months now. Robin didn’t even know.

Now that Dustin saw what he did, everyone would know and everyone would hate them and then Eddie would leave Steve for making everyone hate them and-

“Stevie!” Eddie’s hands were on his cheeks as Steve focused back in on what was going on. His breath was coming in short pants, and if Eddie wasn’t so close to him, he isn’t sure he’d be able to see him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ve gotta breathe for me.”

Breathe for Eddie. He could do that. He did that all the time.

He liked doing what Eddie told him to, he liked the praise that came when he did it, he liked being good. Breathing was easy.

He took a deep breath, then another, relaxing as Eddie smiled back at him encouragingly.

“That’s good, angel. Keep doing that. I’m gonna get Dustin’s notebook, okay?” Eddie didn’t seem like he wanted to leave Steve alone, but he didn’t have much of a choice right now.

“Okay.”

Eddie walked away, towards the study that they’d turned into a game room for the kids to hang out in, and Steve immediately felt the panic settle in his chest again.

“Steve?” Dustin asked, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Dustin sounded hurt, looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was worried you’d hate me, or Eddie. That all of you would hate us for…for being different,” Steve looked down at his hands. “Didn’t wanna lose you.”

“But it’s okay if you’re gay, Steve. None of us would care!” Dustin exclaimed. “I just kinda thought you liked girls. Like Nancy.”

“I do. I just also like guys. I love Eddie,” Steve provided, relaxing slightly at Dustin’s words.

“You love him?” Dustin asked.

“You love me?” Eddie asked from the doorway, clutching Dustin’s notebook tight to his chest.

Steve wasn’t used to keeping his crushes and relationships a secret. He was used to holding hands in the movie theater and kissing a girl goodbye at her door. He was used to being able to show how much he loved someone without a filter.

But with Eddie, he’d held back. He had to in some ways, and they agreed it was best not to give anything away around anyone else for a while, but he’d hoped that Eddie saw how much he cared about him when they were alone.

“I do. I thought it was pretty obvious,” Steve stepped closer to Eddie, ignoring Dustin’s presence entirely. “I love you.”

Eddie threw Dustin’s notebook to the side, ignoring the ‘hey!’ that Dustin let out, and pulled Steve into his arms.

“Can’t believe you told Dustin before you told me,” Eddie laughed against his shoulder. “You know he can’t keep a secret.”

“Yeah, well. I love you enough to not care if everyone knows,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, kissing the side of his head and lingering there for longer than he probably should in front of a guest. “Was gonna tell you tomorrow after our date.”

“You mean the super secret plans that you wouldn’t give me any hints about?” Eddie pulled away, searching Steve’s eyes. “Will you tell me them now?”

“Maybe when Dustin leaves.”

Both of them turned to Dustin, who was staring at them with a blank look.

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, snapping his fingers to get his attention.

“I’m gonna go,” Dustin said, still looking lost. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hey, man,” Eddie let go of Steve to walk towards Dustin. “We good?”

“Yeah! I just thought you guys barely even liked each other and you’re actually in love and having sex and I’m just trying to do the math.”

Steve snorted, but straightened out when Eddie glared at him.

“If you wanna talk about anything, you can stay. You seem kinda…out of it.”

“I’d rather not intrude right now,” Dustin said, gesturing to the way their hair and clothing was still a bit disheveled. “But you are gonna tell everyone soon, right? So I don’t have to keep it a secret?”

Eddie looked over at Steve, smiling when he gave him one nod in agreement.

“Yeah, dude. We’re gonna tell everyone at the next movie night,” Eddie said as he turned back to Dustin.

“Thank god!” He breathed out. “Then I’m leaving so you two can do…whatever it is you do.”

He didn’t wait for them to respond, rushing out the door, nearly forgetting his notebook again.

Eddie laughed as he slammed the door, his head falling onto Steve’s shoulder as they fell against the closest wall. Steve was holding Eddie up, laughing with him at the absurdity of being caught by their favorite, but most likely to tell everyone, kid.

“He’s gonna go tell everyone right now, you know that, right?” Steve gasped out between laughter.

“Oh yeah. We’ll be lucky to have another hour before they’re all showing up here with questions,” Eddie said breathlessly.

He pulled back to look at Steve, both of them flush with sudden relief that it was no longer a secret. He leaned in to kiss him once on the corner of his mouth, smiling when he felt Steve’s lips turn up.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered.

“Even though I made you wait to tell everyone?” Steve sounded unsure suddenly, like maybe Eddie would retract everything.

“You didn’t make me do anything, sweetheart. We both agreed to wait.” Eddie cupped his jaw and kissed him slow, much softer than where they’d left off before being interrupted.

No matter how much he enjoyed taking Steve apart, how much he liked seeing him covered in bite marks and bruises, he liked seeing him melt like this more.

“I love you,” Steve said against his lips, already letting Eddie take more of the weight he didn’t have leaning back against the wall. “Want you. Before they get here. Please.”

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely?” Eddie nipped at his bottom lip before pulling away. “Let’s go to your room this time. Don’t want any more interruptions.”

Steve nodded and led Eddie upstairs.

If the kids showed up in an hour, Eddie would make excuses for why Steve was asleep in bed, field their nosy questions, and ease some of the burden of coming out for Steve. If they didn’t, he’d get to keep showing Steve how much he loved him.

Over and over again. Until the whole world knew.

[wheneverfeasible]

Confession

wc: 3k || rating: T+ || AO3 || cw: referenced homophobia, homophobic language || summary: Eddie comes out to Wayne

Eddie Munson was bi.

Bisexual, meaning liking boys and girls and anything in-between.

What. The. Fuck.

It was all stupid Harrington’s fault. Steve. God, why did it have to be a preppy jock? There were plenty of other guys that could have snapped that realization on him, but no, he had to watch Steve Harrington spit out demobat blood (if it could be called that) after ripping its fucking spine out that made Eddie realize ‘huh, I think I like guys.’

It wasn’t like Steve was the only guy he was attracted to, he was shocked to realize. No, now that he knew that it was a possibility, his obsession with some of the musicians of bands whose music he wasn’t even that fond of started making a lot more sense, as well as how he’d reacted to some of the guys he’d gone to school with, or who had bought from him, and Jesus H. Christ, that guy at The Hideout had been hitting on him, hadn’t he?

So yeah, Eddie was dealing with a little bit of shock at his attraction to his friend, as well as the fact that that attraction was also apparently becoming a legitimate crush. Because that was healthy and safe to do. Especially when last he knew, Steve was still hung up on Nancy. And in a weird codependent relationship with Robin. Seriously, if he had to listen to Dustin complaining about why Steve wouldn’t just date Robin one more time, he was going to pull his hair out.

But so Eddie was bisexual. That was fine. Once he’d had his little crisis—and he’d been given plenty of time to think about it while recovering from being the main course at the all-you-can-eat Eddie Munson buffet—he’d done a little bit of research into the topic. Which was how he’d discovered that he had unintentionally been telling every gay man (if he came across any) that he apparently liked to top and was into inflicting pain with his sexual partners (suddenly the guy at The Hideout made more sense).

And…okay, maybe Eddie left the bandana there. He didn’t know, but the idea of it wasn’t too bad. Maybe. Maybe he should look into getting other bandana colors too, just in case.

It didn’t matter. He was still inexperienced, had only been with chicks before, and even then there had only been three of them. Two of them had only slept with him for the story, and the third one…well, everyone needed a little heartbreak in their life he supposed. Maybe he and Steve could compare notes.

The idea of sleeping with a guy, however, was not…unpleasant. It took him by surprise, sure, but he thought he could be down to trying some things out.

That wasn’t the issue on hand, however. It wasn’t what was eating him up inside, making him nauseous as he gnawed at his cuticles, pacing back and forth in the new double wide trailer the government had bought for them after Forest Hills was repaired. (R.I.P. to his uncle’s mug and hat collection.)

And there it was. The issue. His uncle.

Eddie could keep it a secret, sure. Could stay firmly inside the closet he hadn’t even known he’d been in, sitting safe and secret. But…that went against Eddie stood for. Sure, he knew he couldn’t shout it from the rooftop that he maybe sometimes thought about what it would feel like to have one of his best friends’ dicks in his mouth, but this was his uncle, man. This was Wayne.

Christ, he wished he had Ronnie, his former best friend, here to talk with her about all this. (He had also discovered another identity he hadn’t known about, asexuality, which he thought was right up Ronnie’s alley and wished he could tell her, but that was impossible now. She’d left Hawkins behind for a fresh start and he couldn’t blame her.)

But that meant that he was all alone. He loved the new friends he had, loved his band, but…well, this was something a little more complicated. And he wanted to tell his uncle. But…

Eddie gulped, every crunch of gravel outside the trailer sending an electric current through him as his anxiety spiked. His uncle should be home from work soon. Eddie paced a small circuit, knowing he needed a cigarette but also not wanting to go outside. His uncle had declared the new trailer a smoke-free zone. He doubted it would remain that way after this conversation.

He’d like to think his uncle would be supportive. After all, this was Wayne. His uncle loved him, had been there for him even when his own father hadn’t, and had stood by his side even when the whole town thought he was some psycho satanic serial killer. Hell, Wayne had walked in to Chrissy’s mangled corpse in his trailer and hadn’t once suspected Eddie of being guilty.

But having a queer for a nephew?

His uncle was progressive, but that didn’t mean he’d feel as complacent about his nephew being…what he was. His uncle had taken him in after he’d already grown and never expected him to help with the rent money, though Eddie did anyways with the money he got from dealing. But so Eddie was an adult, had a GED to his name, and didn’t need his uncle’s charity anymore.

Gravel crunched outside, the familiar sound of a truck engine rumbling along, and Eddie knew his uncle was home. Fuck. He hoped he didn’t leave this encounter with a black eye. Or worse. Hell, there were some people in this town that if he told this secret to, he wouldn’t leave the encounter at all. Not alive at least.

He knows his uncle isn’t like they though. He knows. Still, the fear persists. He’d always known he’d be too much for his uncle eventually. Would this be the final straw?

Wayne’s footsteps sounded on the porch.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Eddie had, in case he had to leave quickly, already packed a duffel. He wanted to trust his uncle, and he did, really, but…but there was that sickness going around, and Reagan, and Hawkins was such a conservative town, and Eddie just couldn’t know, not for certain. Not with something like this.

“Heya kid,” Wayne said with a gruffness to his voice that spoke of long hours at the plant, though there was the small relieved smile that curled his lips when he got home and saw Eddie there. Like Eddie’s presence was a reassurance now. Eddie hated that he was about to ruin that all.

Because sure, there was a possibility that Wayne would accept him, or at least not kick him out, but Eddie had seen too much shit to think that things would ever be easy for him. It was the Munson Curse.

“Hey Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said, and maybe it was the title, maybe it was the way his words warbled in his throat, but Wayne immediately stopped from where he was moving to pour the morning’s coffee into a generic mug and turned to face Eddie with a furrowed expression.

“Everything all right, Eds?” he asked quietly, hesitantly, and took a large stride over to where Eddie was hovering by the coffee table. He froze, however, eyes widening, when Eddie flinched. Wayne swallowed, his gaze darting over Eddie as though looking for an injury. “Eddie?”

He could do this. His uncle deserved to know he had a fucking fairy living under his roof. Maybe he wouldn’t care, or maybe he’d be fine with it as long as Eddie never acted on it, or maybe…maybe…

Eddie thickly swallowed against the rising burn of bile in the back of his throat. He wanted his uncle to know because this was a part of who he was and it was important to be honest with himself and with his only family member still alive that genuinely loved him, just…he hoped he didn’t lose that love with his confession. But he wanted Wayne to know. Even if it hurt.

“U-Uncle…” Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around himself, his tone almost pleading. He blinked back the burn behind his eyes next, willing the words to come out of his mouth. As soon as he’d fully realized the truth, fully known what it meant, he knew that he’d tell Wayne. No matter what, he wanted his uncle to know this about him.

Wayne’s face grew slightly panicked at Eddie’s response, the way he held himself, the tone of his voice, and Eddie could tell the older man wanted to reach out for him but was taken aback by Eddie’s earlier flinch. Christ, would Wayne still want to hug him after this? Touch him? Be in the same room as him? Breathe the same air?

Would he tell Eddie that Alan Munson had been right all these years when he’d continually abandoned Eddie because he’d somehow known his own son wasn’t worth sticking around for?

Wayne took another step closer and Eddie panicked.

“I’m bi!” he exclaimed suddenly, wincing as he withdrew into himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he subconsciously braced for some sort of physical attack. “I’m bisexual,” he whispered, his words shaking.

There was silence, stillness.

Eddie drew in a shaky breath and risked opening his eyes to look at Wayne, expecting disgust, revulsion, perhaps even anger. Instead, all he got was…confusion?

“What?” Wayne asked, his expression full of his lack of understanding what Eddie had just said.

Eddie swallowed again. “I…I’m bi? I like…both girls and boys,” he clarified carefully, though there was a touch of confusion in his own words, his brows furrowing as they only seemed to stump Wayne further. Eddie frowned, figuring he was as clear as could be.

“Did…” Wayne began frowning a little himself, still looking confused. “Okay? But you’re lookin’ like you wanted t’ tell me somethin’.”

Eddie blinked.

“I’m bi,” he repeated pointedly, his arms dropping to his side.

Wayne rolled his eyes to look at the ceiling for a moment in mild exasperation before looking at Eddie again. “Son, did someone say somethin’ ‘bout it?” His lips twisted into a small scowl. “Did that Harrington boy say anything?”

“What? Jesus, no!” Eddie exclaimed, because why the hell was his uncle bringing up Steve when he’d just come out to him? His insides still warmed at being called ‘son,’ however. “Wayne I’m…I…” The panic started up again despite everything and he swallowed nervously. “I like boys, Wayne. I’m a queer.”

Wayne just blinked at him, his scowl turning once more into a confused frown. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Eddie exploded, not having expected his uncle to think he was making it up or lying. Jesus, and what a thing to lie about.

“Obviously,” Wayne snorted in answer, crossing his arms over his chest as he let his gaze roam over Eddie as if looking for an answer. “But I need to know what this prelude is for.”

Eddie felt lost. He stared at his uncle in confusion, his earlier fear and anxiety slowly draining away as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His uncle sounded…sounded like he already…

“You knew?” he asked, voice soft and fragile.

Wayne’s brows lowered, and Eddie felt a little offended that Wayne was looking at him like he was an idiot. “Eddie…I’ve known since you were twelve years old and told me you thought Big Bill Broonzy was pretty after lookin’ through your mom’s old records with the biggest blush on your face.”

Eddie gaped. He vaguely recalled something like that, but that wasn’t…he hadn’t…Jesus fucking H. Christ.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Eddie huffed in sudden annoyance.

“I thought you knew!” Wayne protested, throwing his hands up and looking like he was losing what this conversation was even about. “Wait, you mean to tell me that you’ve been makin’ moonin’ eyes at the Harrington boy and you didn’t even know you liked him?”

Eddie’s blush now could rival any he made when he was twelve. He stuttered, gaped, and dragged a whole handful of hair to cover his face in his embarrassment. “I know that,” he whined. “God, have I have been that obvious?”

Wayne snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved to finish pouring himself that cup of coffee. “Had me worried he finally said somethin’,” he muttered to himself. He turned to point the plain white mug at Eddie. “If he or any of the others do, you let me know, Edster, you got that?”

Eddie softly groaned, burying his face in his hands next as he stumbled back to drop onto the sofa. No wonder Robin had started giving him those looks. He gulped. And…and Steve. Steve had been smiling at him more often, was…was lightly touching him with lingering fingers, had even used that voice on him that he’d use on the pretty girls that stopped by Family Video…

Steve hadn’t been using that voice on any pretty girls that stopped by Family Video recently.

Gulping, realizing that that was not something he had the ability to think about right now, he focused on the truly important thing. He lifted his head to stare at his uncle with wide, shining eyes, his heart fluttering so madly in his ribcage he’d almost thought he’d trapped a bird in there. He licked his lips, eyeing his uncle with wary hope.

“You…you don’t mind?” he asked, needing to clarify, needing to know. “You don’t mind I like boys too?”

Wayne snorted, reaching for another mug and pouring it half full, leaving enough space for him to pour a godawful amount of sugar and a splash of milk in it, just like his nephew liked it, before taking it over to Eddie. He sat down on the sofa next to him, hanging it over. Eddie was grateful for it, even if it was room temperature now.

“Son, I know you ain’t lived here with me long, and I know your father…well, Al’s always had his faults. But we’re family, kid. I’ve loved you since the moment Elizabeth told me she was pregnant with you. Nothing is ever gonna change that, you hear?” He sniffed, taking a sip of his coffee. “‘Sides, ain’t nothin’ wrong with love. You just got lucky, and your chances for love have doubled now.”

Eddie glanced over at his uncle with a shy smile, relief and affection for the older man coursing through him. He cradled his own mug between his hands, drawing in a shaky breath. Wayne knew. Wayne knew and he still loved him. A small, tearful chuckle escaped him and he hastily wiped away one of the tears that fell down his cheek.

“Eddie…” Wayne sighed, sounding regretful as he set his mug on the coffee table and turned to properly face his nephew. “I am deeply sorry if I have ever made you feel like I wouldn’t accept you, like my love for you was conditional.”

Eddie hastily shook his head, setting his own mug down to mirror Wayne’s position, curling one knee halfway on the couch. “You didn’t,” he reassured. “You didn’t, I just…I…” He felt bad now for doubting Wayne. For packing a bag like he was going to get tossed out at any moment. For thinking even just for a second that his uncle would ever hit him.

Wayne studied Eddie’s face before letting out a soft sigh and a small nod. “I understand. It’s not safe out there right now, especially not with everything.” And Wayne didn’t even know everything. He couldn’t, not with all the papers Eddie’d been forced to sign while being patched up after everything. But he knew that he didn’t know, so there was at least that.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Eddie murmured. “I trust you, Wayne. That’s why I wanted you to know. As soon as I was sure, I wanted you to know.” He huffed. “Meanwhile, you knew before even I did.”

Wayne grinned then, reaching out to clap Eddie on the shoulder, making the younger man grin back. “Here I thought it was just some unspoken understanding between us. Guess I know why you always seemed confused when I bought more mugs with rainbows on them.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie moaned, slapping a hand to his face. “I am such an idiot.”

Throwing his head back with a laugh, Wayne relaxed against the sofa, making Eddie chuckle and do the same. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, boy. Just know that you’re safe here, and so is whoever you bring around.” He huffed. “Even if it is the Harrington boy.”

Eddie quickly shook his head again, his hair fanning around him at the force of it, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Oh no, Wayne. Absolutely not. Steve is as straight as they come.” He smiled a little ruefully at that, and though Steve had been smiling at him like that, it was just because they were friends. Expecting anything else would just lead to more heartbreak.

Wayne gave him a disbelieving quirk of his brows. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in response. “You thought he had said something homophobic earlier.”

Reaching for his mug, Wayne gave a one shouldered shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone projected anger at themselves outwards.” He eyed Eddie. “They good to you though? Your friends. You feel…safe with them?”

Eddie thought about that. He trusted them, with his life actually, and not just in the figurative way. They’d proven that they’d save him, time and again. He even had his very own brand new walkie-talkie and call sign to show for it. He was part of something bigger now, something real, which was just what he had always wanted. Even if it was all over, their little group was a forever sort of thing.

Smiling, Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He glanced over at Wayne with a soft look. “But no matter what, I know have you to back me up so…yeah, I feel safe because I know at the end of the day, I won’t be alone.” He had needed to tell Wayne first, but maybe…maybe he could tell the others too. Eventually.

Wayne gave a short nod. He seemed content with that answer. “Just remember to use protection when you bring your boy over.”

“Wayne!” Eddie screeched scandalized, but his uncle only laughed.

Of course, it still took several months to get there, but when Wayne came home early one day to find Eddie and Steve shirtless and making out on the sofa, all Eddie could do was give his uncle a sheepish smile.

When the next day Wayne came home and chucked a new pack of condoms at his head, Eddie just gave another scandalized screech while Steve, once again next to him, flushed a bright cherry tomato red.

They’d use them, of course, but it was the principle of the matter.

[flowercrowngods]

still on my journey to get better at smut, so uhhhh

chubby!steve fucking eddie at a highschool reunion

(explicit, ca. 1.1k | dom-ish top steve, belly kink, light degradation kink, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, reunion sex??)

Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan as Steve lifts him off the ground, crowding him against the wall with all that glorious, glorious strength, manhandling Eddie like it’s nothing. If his dick weren’t already painfully hard and throbbing with need, it would be now, trapped as it is against Steve’s belly. It’s the hottest thing Eddie’s ever experienced.

“That what this is, baby?” Steve taunts, slowly grinding against Eddie, the bulge in those preppy-ass pants hot and hard against him.

Eddie moans again, shaking his head in denial even though they both know it’s useless, pointless. He’s been exposed. Quite literally, too.

“You think I’m sexy like this? I make you hard just from looking at me? Don’t think I didn’t see you there, Munson.”

God, the mouth on this man! Eddie never did stand a chance.

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid, letting me manhandle you like that. Think I can fuck yon against the wall, Eddie? Hold my dainty little princess up while I fuck all the words right out of your dirty little mouth, hmm?”

Eddie moans again, his hands finding their way into Steve’s hair, tugging and pushing and pulling him closer, closer, closer. He needs more. He needs Steve to do all of that and more. Come inside him, mark him up, let it trail out of him while they return to the gym — or leave him like that for everyone else to see, everyone else who happens to walk by this abandoned classroom in search for some privacy.

It’s been ten years. Ten years since Steve Harrington in all his glory graduated school and left Hawkins behind.

And oh, those years must have been glorious for him if he looks like this now. Bulky. Strong. Magnificent. Like he’s finally grown into that muscle he’s always had and polished it up with some softness.

Eddie was hard the moment he laid eyes on him.

And now here they are — in their old science classroom. If there were any coherent thought left in his mind, he’d make some quip about finally getting some biology lessons.

As it is, though, Steve surges up to claim his lips in a searing, filthy kiss while he divests Eddie of the rest of his clothing.

Eddie is naked now, trapped against the wall by that magnificent bulk of a man who is still fully dressed save for his suit pants being unbuttoned and that white dress shirt open all the way, exposing his hairy chest and tummy. The need to touch him is stronger now than the need to be fucked brainless, and Steve’s groan when Eddie runs his hands up and down those large pecs is absolutely worth the momentary lack of friction.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, unaware of the words leaving his mouth until they find their mark, making Steve falter in his frantic movements.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows. “Always wondered what you’d look like now. Hoped for this.” He trails his hand down the prominent happy trail, all the way to where Steve’s cock is still trapped, leaking against his underwear.

They both moan as Eddie feels him up, gently jerking him as much as the angle allows, and Steve meets his movements with thrusts of his own, which in turn provides friction for Eddie’s throbbing erection.

God, this man is glorious. He wants to shout it from the rooftops.

“That so?” Steve murmurs, hands coming up to Eddie’s hair again, one of them trailing down to his lips. “King Steve was never enough for you, hmm? You wanted more. Always knew you were a greedy little slut, Eddie Munson. Practically begging for it with your little stunts. Wanted my eyes on you, didn’t you? We’re always so stupid for me.”

He moves his hips in a particularly mean thrust that makes Eddie keen, one finger moving past his lips for Eddie to suck while the one in his hair pulls meanly before coming down to his cock, jerking so hard and fast that Eddie’s legs quiver. Not that it matters, with the hold Steve has on him without even using his hands.

Eddie has nowhere to go; one finger in his mouth and a skilled hand on his dick. He doesn’t want to go anywhere. He wants to stay in this moment forever. Wants to tell Steve as much — stupidly — but all that comes out is a series of “Ah—ah—ah—ffffuck!” as the man renders him useless.

“All you had to do was ask,” Steve taunts, condescending in every possible way, and Eddie almost blows his load just then.

“P—Please,” he manages around Steve’s finger in his mouth, and the asshole speeds up. It’s all Eddie can do to shake his head, to whine between his moans and let him know that, No, not like that! “Want you. Need you.”

“You have me,” Steve whispers, his lips touching Eddie’s in an almost-kiss that is so intoxicating Eddie loses all sense of self for a second there.

“Fuck me,” Eddie whines. “Please. F—Fuck me against the wall, fuck the words right, right outta my mouth, fuck— like you said. Like that. Please.”

And oh, Steve does. Prepares him on four fingers until there are no words in Eddie’s brain anymore, clamps his hand over his mouth because “I don’t want anyone to find you just yet, baby. Want you all to myself. Want your cum on my belly and have you clean it up, eat it all like the filthy slut you are.”

He fucks him deeper than anyone’s ever fucked him, leaves him trembling with need even after he’s come twice, splattered Steve’s soft belly with it and almost came a third time just from that vision alone.

“One more, baby,” Steve tells him. “One more for me, then I’m gonna fill you up just like you want it, yeah? Fill you so good, mark you up so everyone knows you spread your legs for the King like my pretty little concubine. My pretty little princess, hmm? You gonna come again for me? Can you be a good boy for me?”

Eddie can. He comes with a muffled shout, adding a third load to Steve’s skin, framed by his otherwise pristine suit in what must be the most obscene vision Eddie’s ever seen.

Steve strokes him through it, gentler now, telling him how proud he is, how good Eddie was for him as he thrusts his hips one, two, three more times before he, too, finds his release in Eddie’s body. Well, in the condom; they’re not stupid. But a man can dream.

And, oh, does he dream. With Steve still inside him, his hips bucking with aftershocks as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, licking and sucking and biting.

Eddie will always dream of Steve Harrington. Especially after tonight.

was gonna put this in @hotluncheddie’s ask box but then it hit 1k so here we go instead i guess

[doeeyeseddie]

Hey, if it prompts anything, how about no. 24. just really needed a hug sort of hug, for the soft prompts ask? No worries if not, and thank you either way.❤️

hellooo, thank you and here you go! I hope you like it 🩷

send me a soft prompt

[read on ao3]

Buck is on the firehouse couch when Eddie finds him, stretched out on it but not asleep. Eddie can tell from afar, sees that his body is rigid in a way it isn’t when he’s sleeping, even before Buck opens his eyes and squints at him.

“Hey,” he says quietly, and Eddie echoes the greeting in a low voice.

Buck sits up and makes room for Eddie on the couch, most of which he doesn’t need. He sits down so close to Buck their entire sides are pressed against each other, then turns a little so he can tuck his face into the spot between Buck’s shoulder and neck.

“You okay?” Buck asks, and his arms come up around Eddie, holding him tightly.

Eddie wraps his own arms around Buck’s middle, fisting the stretchy material of his uniform shirt. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, me either,” Buck murmurs. “That was a tough call.”

Eddie nods against his neck. It’s always tough when they get there in time and still can’t save someone, and tonight wasn’t an exception. It wasn’t anyone’s fault – just bad luck. But somehow, those can be the hardest to deal with. Someone’s life ended way too early tonight, and the only explanation is that they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. The unfairness of it all always makes Eddie think of Shannon.

And then Buck wasn’t in the bunk room with the rest of them. His steady breathing usually manages to lull Eddie to sleep, and the absence of it meant that Eddie was lying awake staring at the ceiling and thinking about his dead wife while aching to be by his very new, still secret boyfriend’s side. So he got up and went to look for him instead.

Buck strokes a gentle hand up Eddie’s back and presses a kiss to the side of his face, and Eddie wishes they were at home already, wishes he could just climb into bed with Buck, to hold and be held.

Eventually, Buck starts pulling away, but Eddie makes an unwilling sound and tightens his grip.

Buck laughs quietly and kisses his head again. “What if someone comes up? I thought we were keeping this quiet.”

“They’re all in the bunk room,” Eddie says, his lips brushing Buck’s neck. This close, he can see the goosebumps they leave behind, and it makes something in his stomach pull.

“So were you,” Buck insists, “until you decided to come up here.”

“To look for you,” Eddie says, and kisses his neck this time.

Buck hums, somehow sounding both pleased and concerned. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Just really needed a hug.”

Buck squeezes him a little tighter. “I can do that.”

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah.” Buck squeezes again. “This is helping. It’s just— it sucks, right? Doing everything right and it still not being enough?”

“Yeah, it’s the worst feeling. I’ll never get used to it.”

“I know,” Buck agrees. “Me either.”

They both pull back slightly, just enough to look at each other. 

“Hey,” Buck says, his face earnest the way Eddie loves. “I love you, you know?”

“You may have mentioned it,” Eddie replies just to be a shit, and kisses Buck’s laugh right out of his mouth.

When they pull apart, Buck looks a little dazed, which Eddie can’t help but feel smug about. But he can’t stop staring at Buck’s mouth, red and kiss-bitten, so he probably shouldn’t tease.

Instead, he runs a gentle thumb over Buck’s lips, smiling when Buck brushes a kiss to it.

“I love you, too,” he says. Not because Buck really needs the confirmation, but because he wants to say it. He wants to say it all the time, wants to shout it from the rooftops like some fucking cliché. “Do you think we should start telling people about us soon?”

Buck leans in for one more kiss, quick and warm. “Y-Yeah. I really want that, actually. I want to hold your hand in front of our friends. And I know we’ll still have to reign it in at work, but right now, I just feel–”

He pauses, and Eddie nods. “Yeah, it was a little…hot, almost? In the beginning. The sneaking around. But I don’t love feeling like I constantly have to hold back, to pretend like I’m not head over heels in love with you. I’ve done that for way too long already.”

Buck smiles, and his hand sneaks under Eddie’s shirt at his back, warm and familiar.

“Exactly. I love you, and I want people to know it. Our family, especially.”

Eddie cups the back of his head and brushes their noses together. “So let’s tell them. We can do it during the next 48 off, if you want.”

“I’m ready,” Buck says, closing the small distance between them once again.

It’s only Buck yawning right into Eddie’s mouth that has them pulling apart, laughing. Eddie brushes his thumb over Buck’s birthmark and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Wanna go back to the bunk room and hope the rest of the night is quiet so we can catch some sleep?”

Buck’s barely opened his mouth to agree before the alarm rings out, and he groans around a laugh.

“I can’t believe you still don’t believe in jinxes.”

“That’s because they’re not real,” Eddie says, pulling Buck up off the couch with him and then stepping close to press one more quick kiss to his mouth. “Maybe we’ll get to sleep after this one, then.”

He grins and turns around to hurry downstairs, laughing at Buck’s indignant voice when he calls, “Eddie! Stop jinxing us!”

But he’s laughing too, following Eddie down the stairs and into the firetruck. Everyone else is yawning and wiping sleep from their eyes, and no one looks twice at how close Buck and Eddie sit, ankles and knees and thighs and shoulders knocking, and Eddie knows that everything is gonna be okay.

Even if they don’t get to sleep at all for the rest of this shift – he’s got a comfortable bed waiting for him at home and a boyfriend to crawl between the sheets with. They’ll catch up on sleep later, close enough for Eddie to not only hear, but feel Buck’s breathing that’ll lull him to sleep. He can’t wait. 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 14: Strong Enough]

The year is now 2000. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, sexual content, violence, angsttttttttttt (but what else is new 🥰).

Word count: 5.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @bornbetter @flowerpotmage @thewitch-lives @bearwithegg @tempt-ress @padfooteyes @teenagecriminalmastermind @chelsey01 @anditsmywholeheart @heliosscribbles @elsolario @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @tillyt04 @cicaspair418 @fan-goddess​ @ladylannisterxo​

Only 1 chapter left! The series finale will be very...eventful 💜

Ice clinks in Aegon’s rum and Coke, his fourth in an hour; lemon juice and crystalline sugar is a halo around your appletini. The sky is a watercolor painting blending from lavender to violet to indigo, clouded, moonless. Downstairs inside Ursa Minor, shadows grow longer, slanting across the red-brown hardwood floor: hands turn into claws, men into beasts, skeletal and reaching. If this was a movie or a book, you would be able to see the Northern Lights, just like you did the first time Aegon brought you up here. It would be a full-circle moment that would soften a goodbye with a homecoming. Instead, the sky offers no consolation, no hint of any grander design. Sometimes things just blink out of existence like an eviscerated star. Sometimes things are just over.

You stand together on the rooftop patio in a patch of snow that is only shin-deep, exhaling white fog that evaporates into the nightfall, drinking. You don’t speak, because speaking of the end will make it real. You don’t look at each other either. You gaze out over the channel, where dark waters ripple and boats bob in easy waves. When Aegon offers you his rum and Coke, at first you don’t understand; and then you realize he wants to trade.

“I thought you hated these,” you say as you pass Aegon your appletini, Dale’s newest addition to his repertoire. You taste the rum and Coke: solid, heavy, bitter, biting.

“Figured I shouldn’t miss my shot. How often does someone get the chance to enjoy an appletini with an Appletini?” He gives you a wry, off-balance smile as he sips it, saccharine and emerald green.

You down the rest of the rum and Coke, haul up your courage like a body from the silt of a lake. And then you ask him: “What if you went with Aemond?”

Aegon stares at you in disbelief, in betrayal. “What?”

“Back to Miami. What if you actually went?”

“Whose fucking side are you on?”

“No, really, think about it,” you plead. “They can afford to get you the best treatment, take you to the best doctors. You can go to rehab and then, maybe, maybe after you’re better—”

“You want me to go crawling back to my parents after—?!”

“Then don’t do it for your parents!” you shout, your breath short-lived mist in the Arctic wind. “Do it for Aemond and Helaena and Daeron, do it for yourself, do it for me. You’re young, you’re brilliant, it’s not too late for you to start over. You could stop running, you could make amends.”

“I killed three people. How can anyone make amends for that? Aemond lost an eye, he’s maimed for life. How could anyone make amends for what I’ve done? What would me being home do for anybody except serve as a constant reminder of the fact that I got to walk away without paying for my mistakes?”

“You’ve paid,” you say. “You’ve paid for six years.”

He shakes his head, peering into the channel. “I can’t go back.”

“You really think you can run for the rest of your life? You’re never going to get married, have children, own a house, file taxes, start a business, go back to school, keep the friends you’ve made? Aegon, think about it! You can’t even play in a band good enough to book a spot at a festival or a club without there being advertisements, magazine articles, Google search results. You can’t disappear, not in the world that exists now. You can’t disappear and have any life worth living.”

“I’ve made it this long. I’ll find a way.”

“You’ll die,” you tell him, cutting like glass, like the splinters of a broken window. “You can’t keep doing this or you’ll die. And what then?” What about me, Aegon? “What was this all for?”

“I can’t go back.” It’s an echo, mindless and reflexive, a survival instinct. There’s no reasoning with it. He drains the appletini and pitches the glass off the roof, out into the darkness.

You hear footsteps on the staircase, and again you are reminded of the night Aegon kissed you for the first time, the night he sang Everlong, the night under the Northern Lights. Then it had been Heather who interrupted you. Now it’s Kimmie. She bursts through the door, panting from the effort of scaling the steps in five-inch hot pink heels.

“She’s here,” Kimmie informs you and Aegon from the doorway, her face an exaggerated, childlike pool of sympathy, all soft edges and slick eyes. And then she hurries back downstairs.

Heather, sitting in the usual booth, is inundated by well-meaning spectators who offer sympathy, support, thinly-veiled prying so they don’t look quite so much like kids gawking at a zoo animal. They hug her and pat her back reassuringly; they buy her drinks. There is a small army of Sex On The Beaches on the table. Kimmie climbs nimbly into the booth, snuggles up beside Heather, and rests her head on her shoulder. Heather, for once, does not seem to regard this as an intrusion. Aemond, attempting not to encroach, is sipping a Caipirinha at the bar in his black Armani suit. Dale has apparently at last tired of Shania Twain songs. From the stereo drifts the wistful acoustic chords of Sheryl Crow’s Strong Enough.

You slide into the seat across from Heather and take her hands. Joyce is beside you, no book to be found. Brad and Rob are standing a few yards away, both drinking heavily, both murmuring in dazed, conspiratorial voices. “Guess the Hulk jokes aren’t so funny now…can you imagine…he did get kind of aggressive sometimes…the best quarterback Juneau’s seen in decades…but the boots…who would have guessed…?”

“I can’t stay long,” Heather sniffles. Her eyes are red, her face puffy from crying. “My parents are calling around trying to get a good lawyer. They’re in shock, they’re fucking devastated, we’re all just…just…” She crumbles into loud sobs, shoving a fistful of tissues against her nose.

“Shh,” Kimmie says, stroking Heather’s hair. “Shh, shh…”

“Heather,” you begin, not knowing how to put it delicately. “Were there any…you know…any signs? That Trent could be the Ice Fisher?”

She shrugs despondently. “You know how he is. He’s a dumbass sometimes. He gets angry…he says the wrong things…but he doesn’t kill people!” She starts crying again.

“He does fit the description,” Joyce says softly. “He’s big, he’s athletic.”

Kimmie marvels: “I can’t believe we spent all that time around him. We were totally clueless. Out in the woods with him? Hanging out together at night? Trent could have gotten any of us.”

Heather wails, mopping the tears from her face with the damp mass of tissues.

“So he’ll stay in custody?” Aegon asks Heather. “Until the trial?”

“That’s what the cops said. There’s no way he’s getting bail.” She shakes her head. “Chief Baker came to the house to talk to my parents about what was happening. What they had found in Trent’s apartment, what the next steps would be. He looked so sorry to have to deliver the news. That was nice of him, wasn’t it? He didn’t have to do that.” More sniffling, more tears snaking down her cheeks.

“Heather, please,” you say helplessly.

“I hate this,” she sobs. “I hate this!”

Kimmie holds her tighter. “Shh, shh. I know.”

“It’ll kill my parents. They were always so proud of Trent, they loved him so much…they still do, I mean, but now…now…”

“Did he say anything to you?” you ask Heather. “After he was arrested? He got a phone call, right? Did he confess, did he give a reason why? Did he say anything?”

“Yes.” She gazes across the table at you, eyes murky with bewildered, immutable horror. “He said he didn’t do it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Heather, somewhat mollified by a number of Sex On The Beaches, asks Joyce to drive her home. As Aegon bids goodbye to Rob and Kimmie—a permanent goodbye, a remorseful one—you retreat to the bar to give him space. Brad must know about the transitory Kimmie-Aegon situation; he glares at him as he knocks back glass bottles of beer misty with condensation. Aegon is working on his sixth rum and Coke. He sways, he slurs, he blinks in slow motion.

“Can you believe it?” Dale asks as you sit next to Aemond, sliding you a fresh appletini. His bushy eyebrows are raised: incredulous, inquisitive. “Trent? Our very own hometown hero?”

“It’s disturbing, for sure. But he was prone to…outbursts.”

“Yes,” Dale says, a little vaguely. “I had noticed that.” He lumbers away to take orders. Ursa Minor is full of locals clamoring for gossip, theories, commentary, self-medication.

Aemond nips at his frosty Caipirinha, his eye fixed on Aegon. “He’s stalling.”

Why lie? There’s no shade of dishonestly that he can’t see through. “Yes.”

“It won’t work.”

You watch Aegon from across the room: the way he talks with his hands, the way he smiles crookedly beneath sad eyes, the way that lock of white-blond hair falls over his face. He’s leaving. He’s really leaving. “Show me more pictures from Miami.”

Aemond smirks. “Now you’re stalling too.” Regardless, he produces his wallet and starts leafing through a small stack of photographs. He plucks out the ones you haven’t seen yet with lithe and yet curiously dangerous hands. There are more images of Vhagar, several mansions and yachts, some of a young woman who must be Helaena—slight, delicate, intensely vulnerable—and a boy in his late-teens playing golf.

“Daeron?” you guess.

Aemond nods. “He’s the most balanced, the least damaged. He would have been Dad’s choice to inherit the leadership of the company if he was older. He’s the best of us.”

“I doubt that.” You sift through the photographs until one stuns you: an olive-skinned, black-haired man, perhaps thirty, with his arm around a woman’s shoulders. He wears a modest, strangely burdened smile, but his dark eyes are warm. “Who’s this? He’s gorgeous. And he actually looks Greek. Don’t tell me you have yet another brother. If so, I fear I might have allied myself with the wrong one.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” he says with just a dusting of sarcasm like flurries. “No, he’s Criston Cole. He’s been Dad’s bodyguard since before I was born.”

You squint at the photo. “How old is he?”

“He’s in his forties now. I know he looks younger.”

“And the woman is…his wife? Girlfriend?”

“My mother, actually.”

You raise an eyebrow. Aemond smiles bashfully, averts his gaze. “They share an affinity. He’s helped her immensely through Dad’s illness, through…well.” He gestures to Aegon with his glass. “Everything.”

“I mean…yeah. I’d probably find an excuse to fuck Criston too.”

Miraculously, this works: Aemond laughs, the first time you’ve ever heard him do it. It’s a joltingly beautiful sound. It’s like the earth waking up again at the end of winter. He gathers up the photographs, places them safely back into his wallet, sips his Caipirinha contemplatively. “You’re not stupid,” Aemond says. “You have to understand that there’s no way this ends with you and Aegon together.”

We were supposed to have two more months. And maybe I even dreamed of more than that.

Aemond continues: “He has to get better before it’s too late. He has to get sober. I can’t give him a new liver. Dad’s the only one in the family with Aegon’s blood type.”

You turn to him, bemused. “You’ve already thought about that.”

Aemond is annoyed, like you haven’t been keeping up. “Of course I have.” His BlackBerry beeps, and he slides it out of his pocket. He reads the onyx pixels on the screen, his eye widening. He reads them again. And then he says: “I need a phone. Immediately.”

“Okay, um, well there’s a payphone outside, and Dale has one behind the bar—”

Aemond flags down Dale, expresses that he has an emergency, is swiftly ushered to the phone. While he’s gone, Aegon makes his way back to you. He finishes his latest rum and Coke, bangs the glass down on the counter, kisses you with unaccustomed roughness, his calloused fingers cradling the arc of your jaw.

You tuck his unruly lock of hair behind his ear. “Aegon—”

“We have to leave now,” Aemond says. He’s reappeared, and he will not be ignored.

“Go buy a newspaper and jack off to the business section,” Aegon flings at him, bringing his lips to yours again, burning with dark rum.

Aemond grabs the neckline of his brother’s royal blue sweater and drags him away from you. Bar patrons glance over. You’re beginning to attract attention. “We have to leave. Now.”

“Okay, okay,” Aegon agrees; but there’s something flighty and devious in his eyes, like an animal too sly to be caged. The three of you walk back to Aegon’s apartment together, stepping in footprints already left in the snow. Each time Aegon staggers, you catch him and haul him upright again. You can’t even resent him for it. Soon you won’t be able to touch him at all.

Sunfyre is waiting when Aemond unlocks the door. He gives the golden retriever an absentminded pat on the head as he glides past him. Aegon lurches into the kitchen, where the mugs are still waiting on the counter for the hot chocolate he never made. And then he just stands there unsteadily under the goldenrod florescent lights. He’s run out of room to run. He’s a rat at the end of a maze, not an open door but a brick wall.

“Pack your things,” Aemond orders.

“No.”

With one powerful hand, Aemond shoves him against the refrigerator. Magnets—Las Vegas, Phoenix, Baltimore, San Francisco, Portland, Denver, Chicago, Dallas, San Diego, many more—go flying in every direction. “Pack your fucking things.”

“No,” Aegon repeats.

“Dad’s in the hospital,” Aemond says. “He was admitted this morning. It’s bad, he has a pulmonary embolism. He might be dying. I need to be there to handle things.”

“So go,” Aegon replies dismissively.

“Not alone.” His only eye is an icy blue, sharp and ferocious; but it’s heartbroken too. “Not without you.”

“I’m not going.”

“Aegon,” he implores, he begs. “Mom can’t make these decisions alone, Helaena doesn’t have the spine for it, Daeron’s too young, we need to be there!”

“You need to be there. Not me.”

“Pack your things,” Aemond says again.

“No.”

“Then you can leave as you are.” And he lunges for Aegon, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Sunfyre barks franticly.

“Aegon, no!” you shout, because you realize what he’s going to do. He grabs the green mug off the kitchen counter, shatters it against the stovetop, and wields a thick, five-inch-long shard of it like a dagger as Aemond grapples for him. Aegon’s arm is lightning in the air, striking blindly. The jagged sliver of the mug connects with Aemond’s face.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Aemond roars, touching his palm to his forehead and seeing the blood. “What’s your plan? To cut out my other eye too?!”

“No.” Aegon brings the shard to his own throat and starts slicing: not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to show he’s serious. A trickle of blood flows down his neck like a string of rubies.

“Stop!” you and Aemond shriek together. He gets to Aegon first. Aegon careens away from him until his back hits the wall. Aemond knocks the piece of the mug out of his grasp; it clatters over the hardwood floor like a rock skipped across water. Aegon slaps at his brother’s face ineffectually, then finally slams his elbow into Aemond’s nose. Blood rockets, blood flows like a river. With an open palm, Aegon smears it upwards into Aemond’s only remaining eye. Aemond screams in anguish and frustration, fumbling blindly for the kitchen sink. Then Aegon reaches for his brother.

You shout: “Aegon, don’t hurt him—!”

“I’m not.” As Aemond twists on the faucet and splashes water into his eye, Aegon thieves his few consequential possessions from Aemond’s pockets: his keys, his wallet, his cash. And then he retreats to the other side of the room. His message is clear. He doesn’t want to fight; he wants to run. He wants to start running and never stop. Sunfyre scurries over to him, claws clicking on the floor, examining Aegon like a fretful mother.

You yank a dishtowel out of a drawer and go to Aemond. “It’s me, it’s me,” you say gently when he flinches away. You help clear the blood from his eye, assess his nose. Not broken, but bleeding like hell. Aemond doesn’t even look angry. He looks exhausted, he looks hopeless. Aegon watches from across the small apartment, holding his belongings, clutching them to his chest, a coward and hating himself for it.

“Six years,” Aemond says, his voice clotted with scalding blood, with an ocean of time. “For six years I tried to find you and this is what I have to show for it. You didn’t miss me at all. Not even sometimes. Not even for a second.”

“I never said I didn’t miss you.”

“But you won’t come home.”

“No,” Aegon says, like an apology.

Aemond readjusts his suit, smooths his hair. He doesn’t seem aware of the blood still streaming from his nose, his forehead. “I have to go. I have to be there.”

“Then go, Aemond. That’s where you belong.”

He stares at Aegon with a vacantness that you can feel in your own bones: excavated marrow, howling void. “This isn’t over,” he says. “All I’ve ever done is live in your shadow. I don’t know how to stop.” And then he gets his green Louis Vuitton suitcase and vanishes through the apartment doorway. You bolt after him, chasing him out into the darkness, a starless night with a cold wind that slits into your lungs like needles.

“Aemond!” you call, and he stops. “Where are you going?”

“Home. The jet is waiting.”

“But you can’t walk to the airport from here. And I’ve had one too many appletinis to drive you.”

“I’ll call a cab from the bar. You do have cabs here in Juneau, I assume?”

“Yes. Two, I think.”

“That’ll do.” He stands in the weak beam of the streetlight, heaving in labored breaths. He wipes the blood still pouring from his nose with the back of one hand. “Good luck with him. You’ll need it.” And then he’s gone, his suitcase bumping over thickets of snow and ice.

Upstairs, Aegon is dragging his own suitcase—black, tattered, Samsonite—out from beneath his unmade bed. He opens it and starts throwing in clothes: band T-shirts, sweaters, jeans, flannel. Sunfyre, whimpering, crawls under the bed and stays there.

“Aegon—”

“If my father stabilizes, Aemond will come back. If he dies, Aemond will come back. He might try to bring my mother up here, or Helaena, or Daeron, or Criston, or the whole fucking family, who knows? I have to be long gone by the time he returns to Juneau.”

“Aegon, please, think about this—”

“I already have a guy lined up to buy the Nova…I think I still have his phone number…I don’t have enough cash yet, but I will once I’ve sold the car…” He’s mostly talking to himself. He’s not really in Juneau anymore; he’s in the future, he’s in the past.

“You don’t have to go—”

He says suddenly, looking at you: “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. We’ll do this together.”

And for a second, you almost say yes. You can see it in one of those flashes, brief and inescapable like lightning: sand, surf, wild children with white-blond hair. Then reality roars back in like a storm. “What, so I can drag you off the floor, clean up your messes? So I can have a front row seat to your self-destruction? So I can burn all the bridges behind us as I follow you into exile? There’s no place for me in a future like that. That’s not a future at all. It’s a cage. It’s a different kind of cage than the one I’m in here, but it’s a cage nonetheless.” Your voice isn’t harsh. Perhaps it would hurt him less if it was. You sound patient and sad and old, like you’ve already seen it all and returned as a ghost, wearing decades of regret instead of white sheets. “And you’ll drink away the money I make, or you’ll inject it into your arm, or you’ll buy pills with it, and I’ll resent you, at first just a little bit, and then more, each time stacking up like pennies in a jar, getting heavier and heavier until I can’t feel all those reasons why I fell in love with you, I can only feel the crushing goddamn weight.”

He can’t even tell you that it’s not true. He wants to, he wants to desperately, but he can’t.

“Tell me you’ll get better,” you say in a whisper thinner than a knife’s edge. “Tell me you’ll try, at least, that you’ll go to rehab, that you’ll face your past, that you’ll make amends. Give me something, anything to hold on to. Give me a reason to leave with you. Please, Aegon, please, just give me one fucking reason.”

“I’m not capable of what you’re asking for.”

“Then I can’t leave Juneau.”

“If you walk out that door, it’s over,” he says, his eyes glassy, tiny barren oceans. “I can’t wait. And I won’t be here tomorrow.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Then get out,” he hisses. “You want to go so bad? You want to get away from me, you want to start forgetting? Just get out. You don’t need to make polite excuses. You don’t need to placate me. I understand. I understand perfectly.” And he doesn’t hit you, but it feels like he does. “Go find some painfully ordinary Juneau boy that you won’t give a fuck about. Maybe he’ll be a logger, maybe he’ll work on a fishing boat, it doesn’t really matter, does it? You’ll play pool with him and you’ll stroll through Blockbuster together and you’ll let him order you beers you don’t want and sooner or later you’ll be lying underneath him, and he’ll be fucking you, and you’ll be amazed by how it’s possible to be so close to another human being and yet so far away. And you know what? The whole time you’ll be thinking about me.”

“Yes,” you answer, dripping with cold venom. “I’ll be wondering what morgue you ended up in.”

“Then get out,” he says again, he dares.

But you don’t turn to go. You don’t even move. Aegon’s gaze sweeps over you: face, down to your boots, back up to your eyes.

His lips curl up at the edges, not in a smile but something stinging, boastful, cruel. “I know what you want.”

Don’t touch me, you wish you could say, you wish you could stab him with like a blade, all the way to the hilt. I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you at all. But Aegon has learned every one of your languages, and he can read lies on you like scrawls of ink.

He crosses the room, buries a hand in your hair, holds you still as he skates the other into the front of your jeans. You cry out, opening your thighs for him, surrendering, ravenous. One last time. Yes, oh god, please, one last time. He yanks your jeans down to your ankles and unbuttons his own. Then he turns you to the wall. You brace yourself against it—a palm pressed to fraying wallpaper—as he slips into your wetness, becoming a fleeting visitor rather than one with you, a lover without a name, a face.

And you want it, yes, yes, there’s no ambiguity there, but still it’s agony, because it’s nothing like it was before. Aegon doesn’t whisper to you, doesn’t kiss you, doesn’t touch you anywhere that isn’t necessary. He makes you come, yes; but quickly and mechanically, like it’s a necessary task to be checked off a list, a patched roof, gasoline into his Nova. He doesn’t leave bruises on you, yes; but that doesn’t mean anything. He never left bruises on Kimmie either. When you reach back—instinctively, without thinking—to touch his face, his hair, he catches your hand and pins it to the wall. You could be anybody, and you will be: soon enough the girl standing in your place will be from Des Moines, Modesto, Scottsdale, Buffalo, Plano, Durham, Wichita, Knoxville, Fargo, Ann Arbor, Hartford. It doesn’t matter where she lives, because he won’t be there long. It doesn’t matter who she is, because that’s not why he wants her.

Aegon finishes with a shuddering gasp, is still for a moment, and then recedes from you. The sensation of abrupt emptiness is forlorn, sickening. I feel worse than I did before. How is that possible?

“Now get out,” he says, zipping up his jeans in the sepia florescent light. He can’t even look at you. He stares down at the floor instead, pretending to be scrutinizing something, a scuff or an indentation. You both know he doesn’t care about things like that. You both know he’s done with you. You dress yourself, grab your purse, and break out into the freezing darkness.

You go to Ursa Minor and clean yourself up in the bathroom, a tear-streaked ghost under stark white lights. Then you go to the usual booth. You don’t order anything, not even when Dale swings by to check in with you, his forehead crinkled with questions and worry. You don’t talk to the few locals who are currently drinking their January evening away. You just sit there, staring at the wall, not feeling time as it breathes through you: an invisible truth, a string that ties the past to the present like an anchor. Eventually, you get up and leave, climb into your Jeep, drive back to the place you’ve always called home.

You walk into the house, into the nightscape silence. Your purse drops off your shoulder and thumps against hardwood. And you stand there, not speaking, not seeing, just feeling the ionic bonds between your atoms being snipped, your veins and ligaments unweaving, pieces of you falling away until you vanish. You can feel yourself becoming transparent. The pigment of your eyes, your hair, your skin evaporates—boiled water from a tea kettle, steam off a bathroom mirror—and is replaced by the muted grayscale of Juneau. Your eyes are puddles of melted snow on asphalt, laced with salt and stray earth. Your hair is wisps of fog. Your skin is the Gastineau Channel, a silver-cold river deep with bones. It’s not that you can’t imagine a future. It’s that you’ve forgotten how to imagine anything at all.

“You’re home already?” Your mom steps out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a dishtowel. “Dad went to the Foodland. I found this neat new cookie recipe but we’re out of baking powder—”

You look at her, and she sees you, really sees you. And the totality of the understanding on her face is like you’re under a spotlight, like you’ve never had a secret and never will. “How did it happen?”

“He’s leaving Juneau. I can’t go with him, not the way he is now. That’s all.” You show her your palms, empty.

“Well, it’s not necessarily goodbye forever, is it? I mean, you can still stay in contact with him. Make phone calls, send letters…”

“There’s no point, Mom,” you say, with more despair than you intend to. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ladybug…” She hesitates, wringing the dishtowel. “Your dad and I…we want you to be happy. You know that, don’t you? And we like having you here. We love having you here, it’s the greatest gift we could have ever hoped for. But if you need to change things to be happy…if you need to see other places, experience different things…we would want you to do that. We would want you to do whatever it takes for you to feel that you’re truly living.”

You stare at her like she’s speaking a dead language: Egyptian hieroglyphs, Gothic, Illyrian. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

I could get out of Juneau. They would want me to. “But even if I did leave one day, I couldn’t go with Aegon.” Your voice breaks, your lips tremble. “He’s too damaged. He’s too much like Jesse.”

“Oh, ladybug,” your mom says, smiling with tears in her eyes. “Aegon isn’t like Jesse.”

Of course he’s like Jesse. He’s exactly like Jesse. And that’s why he’s going to end up dying the same way Jesse did. “He’s…not?”

“Well, he is, but he isn’t. Aegon is more defenseless, more gentle, more kind. Aegon would never hit you. There’s more good in him, I think. There’s more of a chance.”

You want to believe her. It shocks you how much; you’ve never wanted to believe in anything this badly. “So you think I should go with him.”

“That’s something you have to decide,” your mom says. “And only you. Because you’re the one who has to live with the choices you make. All I can tell you is that if you see potential in someone, even a glimmer of possibility, and you don’t try with every shred of yourself to make it work…you might regret it for the rest of your life.”

A question occurs to you that is so horrible you almost can’t bring yourself to ask it. “Do you regret being with Dad?”

“No, never,” she says, and the relief rolls through you. “But I think that if I had handled things differently with Jesse, he would still be alive. I had given up on him by then. I had stopped trying to help him, I had stopped believing him when he told me he wanted to change. I wasn’t there for him at the end. And I should have been. Because it really did seem like he was getting better.” She embraces you, warmth and unconditional harbor. “If you want to run after Aegon…if even the smallest part of you does…then I don’t want you to ignore that because of your love for me and Dad. We’ll be alright. Do you hear me? As long as you’re happy, we’ll be alright.”

“Okay.” You kiss her on both cheeks and hug her one last time, your arms slung around her neck, clinging to her like a child. “Okay, Mom. Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you.”

“I love you too, ladybug. Now go. Go, if that’s what you want.”

So you go. You snatch up your purse, bolt for the door, run through the frigid darkness to your Jeep. Dim gloomy streetlights flick by overhead as you drive, snow and ice and salt crunching beneath the tires. The channel is a glistening ribbon to the west, the mountains vast ancient shadows to the east. And you think about what you’ll tell Aegon, what perfect confession you’ll make; but the truth is, you won’t need to say anything at all. When he sees you, he’ll know.

You swerve to a haphazard stop under the streetlight outside Aegon’s apartment building. You dive out of your Jeep, sprint up the steps, rattle the spare key he once gave you in the door. It opens. So does the rest of your life.

Inside, Aegon’s apartment is silent and still. The refrigerator magnets have been collected from the floor like seashells from frothing surf. The battered green electric guitar is missing. His closet is bare; the blue mug has disappeared from the kitchen counter. There are pawprints in the dust on the hardwood floor. But there’s no Sunfyre, and there’s no Aegon either.

He’s gone. He’s just gone.

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 12

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7

Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11 ao3 link

CW: Smut/NSFW

*Steve*

“What about Billy?” Steve asked once everyone took a seat on the cabin’s front porch. 

It had taken a few minutes to calm Chrissy down and convince her that they didn't blame her for the trouble Jason had caused. Eddie kept assuring her that it was all okay, and of course she wasn’t responsible for anything her douchebag of an ex said or did, but it wasn't until Robin stepped in and pulled the other girl into a hug that she stopped crying. 

Even now the two of them were sat together cross-legged on the porch floor, knees brushing, holding hands. Steve would have liked to do the same with Eddie, knowing they could both use a little comfort and reassurance too, but that sort of casual intimacy just wasn’t done between male friends, and while Wayne knew about them, no one else did yet. So he held himself back from reaching out while other eyes were on them.

He and Eddie really needed to have a conversation about that at some point.  Preferably sooner than later.

Steve resolved to bring it up the next time they were alone. He was itching to tell Eleven about them. Robin too. His friendship with her might be brand new but if their barely coded conversation in the car was any indication, he was sure that she would not only be cool about it, but happy for them. 

Hell, if he was totally honest he wanted everyone to know, would shout it from the rooftops if he could. He knew It was a crazy thing to think, but everything else that was happening aside? He had never been so happy. Eddie made him happy, and he wanted the world, or at least their little pocket of it, to know. He could only hope his new boyfriend felt the same.

“I think Carver was hoping he would press charges,” Hopper began. “But Hargrove refused to corroborate the story. I don’t know what you boys said, but you must have scared the shit out of him. He wouldn’t answer any questions, just kept repeating that he’d been home all night and didn’t know what Jason was talking about.”

Steve choked back a laugh and fought not to look at Wayne, who was sharing a pleased grin with his cup of coffee, and he was pretty sure Eddie was doing the same. They both knew it wasn’t due to their efforts that Billy had kept his mouth shut. 

“Then these two showed up raising hell at the police station ready to defend you-” The chief continued, pointing at Eddie. “-to the death and give statements that Jason was making it all up.”

“What did you expect us to do?!” Robin yelled. 

“The whole school was talking about it! We had to take action.” Chrissy added.

Hopper groaned, raking a hand over his face. Steve felt for the man, truly. He had to be exhausted. “Not that it even matters if Carver keeps up his crusade, but statements equal paper trail and I don’t think I have to remind you that this evil wizard or whatever the fuck he is isn’t the only enemy we have.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, the girls a bit sheepishly, but the chief was right. Fire or not, the lab and whatever shadowy sector of the government was in charge of it, was as looming a threat as Vecna.

“Ah shit, the whole school? Do the kids know what’s going on?” Eddie asked, shooting Steve a worried glance. 

“You’re all kids.” Hopper muttered, mostly to himself, and sighed. “Claudia knows about this place, and I called her too when I realized how bad this could get. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all- “

As if on cue, Hopper's sentence was interrupted by the sound of leaves crunching under the wheels of a car, as a station wagon pulled in to park beside his SUV.

“-Showed up here at some point.”

Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike all clambered out of the car the second it stopped moving. Each one with a backpack over their shoulder and a sleeping bag tucked under their arm. They rushed through the trees, pushing and shoving each other as if in a race to be first to reach the house. 

Lucas won, an unsurprising turn of events considering he was the only one of them who played a sport, and threw himself down next to Max and El who were giggling at the whole display. 

Dustin was a close second, hitting the bottom step just behind his friend. What he lacked in physical fitness he made up for in passion. He and the other two younger boys took up posts against the railing across from Eddie and Steve. 

“What’s with the sleeping bags?” Eddie asked, though the answer was obvious.

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Look I know you're on the lam now and everything, but it’s literally been less than 12 hours and you’ve already lost track of the days? It’s Friday!”

“So?”

“So, we’re sleeping over! We have the whole weekend to come up with a plan to defeat Vecna and discredit Jason Carver so you can come home.” Dustin declared.

Eddie stilled, and Steve felt his own heart drop. He didn’t know how much hope Eddie was clinging to, but based on his reaction he had at least partially come to realize what Steve had known from the second Wayne told them they had to go. 

There was no coming home. They would never be able to set foot in the Munson trailer again. 

Now that Steve knew about Jason giving him away, he was even more sure of that fact. It would take nothing for what remained of Hawins lab to connect Steve and El to Eddie and put the full picture together. They were past the point of no return now. No matter what happened with Vecna, if they survived, Steve, El, Eddie, and even Wayne would probably have to run and hide for the rest of their lives.

Steve couldn’t help reaching out then, smoothing a hand along Eddie’s back. He hoped no one noticed, or that if they did Eddie wouldn't mind. He just couldn’t not offer what little comfort he had to give in that moment. 

There was no reason to burden the kids with those harsh truths though, not yet anyway. There would be time for that later. 

“That sounds great Dustin, thanks. I'm glad you guys are here.” Steve said, saving Eddie from having to respond, and he leaned into Steve’s touch as if to say thanks.

Claudia made her way up about a minute later, hefting a grocery bag brimming with snacks that she dumped into Wayne’s lap on arrival.

“Right.” She said, a little out of breath. “They’re your problem now, Wayne. I’ll be back to help out in the morning.”

Eddie’s uncle took it in stride. He was probably used to hosting the group of teenagers, at least occasionally. 

“Where are you going? Do you think it’s a good idea for you to be home alone right now?” Hopper asked her.

“Oh, I'll be fine Jim.” She said, waving him off. “I'm certainly not spending the night here. Also there's some sort of emergency meeting at the school tonight for the parents. Considering that it’s almost certainly about our boys, I think it’s best if I attend so we can see what people are saying about all this.”

Hopper huffed. “I didn’t hear anything on the radio about a meeting.”

“Be hard to when it's not on you.” She said, nodding down to the spot where it should have been attached to him. 

“Shit.” He said, patting himself down. “I better get back before this whole thing spirals even further out of control.”

The chief jumped up out of his chair ready to take off but Steve was right there, getting up from his own spot to grab the man’s arm.

“Wait! What about the fire?” Steve asked. He couldn't let it go. He’d been patient so far because they had more pressing concerns, but he needed to know.

“Honestly, kid, it’s probably not what you want to hear but there's not much to tell. There was no one standing around outside according to the first responders on the scene. The place was mostly deserted before the fire started, apart from a few cars in the parking lot. The building’s a charred mess. They had a hard time putting the flames out, blamed it on whatever chemicals that must have been in the labs acting as accelerants. No one’s been allowed to search inside yet for potential survivors or victims. At first because the fire department deemed it unsafe, then come morning a government agency, whose name I was informed is classified, showed up and said they’d be taking it from there.” Hopper shook his head. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground for any sign of your Doctor Owens, but if he was in there… “

“He’s probably dead.” Steve finished the sentence for him. 

“I’m sorry, Steve.’ He said, and it sounded like he meant it. “I’ll go check in at the station and then come back so we can figure out our next move.”

“Have you slept, Jim?” Wayne asked.

“It’s overrated.”

“Go home. Check on Joyce, get some rest, and come back in the morning.” Wayne said, and surprisingly, Hopper agreed.

He and Claudia said their goodbyes and left. The woman offered to give Robin and Chrissy a ride home but the two girls had decided to join in on the massive sleepover. 

“The more the merrier I guess.” Wayne said gruffly, but it was clear that he didn't actually mind. 

It had grown dark and a little chilly out as they talked so everyone piled inside and the negotiations for later sleeping arrangements began. Wayne split off to the kitchen, and Eddie, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since the boys arrived, quickly joined the fray, letting the kids know in no uncertain terms that the couch was Wayne’s and both beds were spoken for. Really they were just battling over floor space at that point.

It was loud and chaotic, and Steve took the opportunity to slip away from the group and retreat to the comparative quiet of his and Eddie's room, pressing fingers to his temples to try and relieve the pressure that had been building behind his eyes all day. He should have known a certain someone would notice his absence right away. 

“You okay?” Eddie asked, opening the door just enough to stick his head inside.

“Yeah, just a headache.” He replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I saw a pretty impressive first aid kit in the bathroom. I bet there’s some sort of pain killers in there. I’ll be right back.” Eddie said, ducking out only to return a minute later with a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. He shut the door behind him and shook a few of the pills out into Steve’s waiting hand.

“Thanks” He said, downing both the medicine and the water in one go. 

“You don’t think… Eddie began hesitantly after a beat of silence, and it took Steve a moment to realize what the other boy was getting at. 

“Oh! No, definitely not.” He said, shaking his head. He pulled Eddie down by the hand to sit beside him. “This is normal, for me at least. I get headaches all the time. It’s nothing. Besides, doesn’t Vecna usually go after people that are like- ” He paused, trying to think of the right way to say it. “Sad and depressed and stuff? People with real problems.”

“Steve, you were held prisoner for two years.”

Eddie had a point. 

The past few years of his life had been mostly miserable save for a few stolen moments of happiness with his chosen sister. Even now that they had escaped, they still weren’t safe. They were being hunted by a legion of evil scientists and a man turned interdimensional monster with an axe to grind against an innocent girl who’d only done what she had to do to defend herself. 

He shrugged it off, smiling despite it all as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck, suddenly realizing they were alone, and he could do that. “Yeah, and now I'm here, and I have my sister, and you.”

Eddie’s hands found his waist like they were always meant to be there. “No need to get cute, Harrington. We’re already dating.”

Steve pouted. “But I'm always cute.”

Eddie laughed quietly. “You can say that again.” He whispered, pulling Steve into a deep lingering kiss. 

-

Steve exited the bedroom about an hour later when Eddie softly knocked to say that everyone was eating dinner. The other boy had convinced him to lay down until his head was feeling better. He was glad for it now, to be able to stand in the middle of things without pain while the teens loudly talked and argued over each other. They seemed to agree that Eddie was their secret weapon, or could be if he could remember what his powers were and learn to tap into them.

“I think I could help you with your memories. If you’d want that.” El said, bringing the conversation to a crashing halt. 

Everyone was quiet, waiting for Eddie to respond, and Steve had a bad feeling.

“I, um… I don’t, uh know if I- ” Eddie stammered.

“It’s not just about the powers either, it could help in a lot of ways!” Dustin chimed in, blissfully unaware of his cousin’s discomfort. “I mean, El remembers Henry from before and you’re older than she is. Maybe you know something she doesn’t. We need some kind of leg up here, and we can’t just assume that this Vecna is exactly the same as the one from the campaign. Who knows if he has the same powers, or less, or more. We’re fumbling in the dark here, and- ow! ” 

Max elbowed him hard in the ribs, effectively cutting him off.

Eddie's head was down, eyes screwed closed and he was breathing too fast. Steve threw a look at Robin, a silent plea to keep everyone busy and away while he helped Eddie through whatever he was feeling. He slid an arm around the other boy’s shoulder, guiding him to the kitchen and sat him down in one of the chairs while he knelt in front of it. 

Steve took both of Eddie’s trembling hands in his, and whispered to him softly. “Come on baby, you gotta breathe nice and slow for me, okay? Can you do that?”

Eddie kept his eyes closed but nodded slightly and tried to control his breathing. Steve ran his thumbs across Eddie's knuckles as they took deep even breaths together. It didn’t take long, just a minute or two and Eddie’s pulse slowed, but he still wouldn’t look up. 

“Eds, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you decide you want to recover your memories one day, I fully support that, but you should do it for yourself, because you want to. I don’t want to see you forced into it when you’re not ready.”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t know why the idea of remembering scares me so much, but what if Dustin’s right? What if I… “

Steve squeezed his hands. “It's not worth it if this is what it's going to do to you, and there's no guarantee that it would help anyway. We have a little time. The music is working so far, and he hasn’t taken any other victims yet. We’ll figure something else out.”

Eddie finally looked up to meet his eyes, and smiled softly. “Thank you.”

-

It was decided unanimously that that was the end of strategy discussion for the night, and when Eddie escaped to the bathroom to shower no one stopped him or said anything about what had just happened. 

Steve helped the girls get set up in their room, digging extra blankets out of a closet and arranging them on the floor to make it a little more comfortable. Max and El invited Robin and Chrissy to crash on their floor so they wouldn’t have to deal with the boys. Robin kept trying to catch his eye. He knew she wanted to talk, to ask if he was okay but she accepted the little shake of his head without complaint. 

He tucked El in even though Max was there, and she really was too old for it these days, though she didn’t seem to mind. It almost felt like old times.

By the time he was done Eddie was out of the shower, and he gratefully took his own turn in the bathroom getting clean. When he emerged, Wayne was sound asleep on the couch surrounded by the whispering voices of the younger boys on the floor around him, zipped into their sleeping bags. It was quite a sight, Steve wished he had a camera.

Going to bed together was awkward in a way that it hadn’t been the night before. Maybe because they weren’t as bone tired, or maybe because they had actually established themselves as a couple now and neither of them knew what to expect. 

Whatever the reason, Steve didn't like the tension in the air when he’d come in from his own shower, but he thought he knew how to fix it. 

He made sure the door was shut and locked before crossing the room to stand in front of Eddie. 

They were alone again and Steve took full advantage of it, taking Eddie’s face between his hands and kissing him deeply while he pressed their bodies as close together as their pajamas would allow. Eddie tilted his head, melting into the kiss. He opened for Steve immediately inviting his tongue to lick in and explore. 

Eddie gripped his shoulders and Steve's hands wound their way into hisdamp hair as the kiss turned desperate. Finally he was forced to pull back or risk passing out from lack of oxygen. Eddie whined and tried to follow, but Steve, remembering that there was a gaggle of teenagers in the next room, chuckled and slapped a hand over Eddie's mouth. 

Eddie’s eyes widened and Steve brought his lips close to his ear. “If we’re going to do this we’ll have to be quiet. Do you think you can be quiet for me?”

He felt as well as heard Eddie swallow hard. He was breathing heavily through his nose, eyes dark and pupils blown. He nodded, chest heaving. Steve slowly removed his hand from Eddie's mouth and kept his voice at a whisper. 

“Will you let me take care of you tonight?”

“Yes.” Eddie breathed.

Steve crashed their lips together again as he walked Eddie back towards the bed, sitting him down on the edge of it. Eddie looked up at him questioningly but sucked in a sharp breath as Steve knelt in front of him, realizing what he intended to do. 

Steve looked down at the floor, confidence faltering a bit under the weight of nerves. “I want to… I mean, can I… ” 

He must have looked even more unsure than he felt because Eddie reached down to caress his cheek and tilted his head up to look at him. “Hey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

It was exactly what he’d said to Eddie earlier in the kitchen, and it made him smile, instantly more relaxed.  

“It’s not that, trust me. I really, really want to do this. I've just never gone down on a guy before and I guess I'm afraid it won’t be good for you.” 

Eddie quirked a brow. “Virgin, remember? I’ve never gotten a blowjob job before and I gotta be honest with you, just the idea of you putting your mouth on me has me about to cum in my pants, so I don't think there's any chance that it won’t be mind blowing.” 

Steve leaned up, pressing another kiss to Eddie’s mouth as he slid his fingers into the other boy’s sweatpants and started to work them down his thighs. Eddie was right, just the idea of what he was about to do had him hard and straining in his own pants, and he had to palm himself when Eddie’s cock finally came free. It was bigger than he expected, a little red and leaking at the tip.

He started slow, darting his tongue out to lick circles around the head before taking just a few inches into his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was gag himself and throw up by accident. No matter what Eddie said, that would be decidedly unsexy. He bobbed his head a little, using his hand to work the remaining length the way he’d had girls do on him before.

“Oh my god.” Eddie moaned, just a little too loud, and threw his own hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds that followed. 

It was all a little intoxicating, to be surrounded by Eddie’s scent, the warmth of his thighs so close to Steve’s cheeks, the weight of him on his tongue, the taste. 

He loved it.

“Close.” Eddie whispered through his fingers before clamping his mouth shut again. 

Steve already knew he wasn’t going to pull off, not a chance. He wanted the full experience, not just for Eddie but for himself. He wanted to know what it felt like to have his boyfriend spill on his tongue.

He tested out hollowing his cheeks and bobbed his head a little faster. Eddie’s breath quickened and his hips jerked, cock pulsing between Steve's lips. His mouth was flooded with warm slightly bitter fluid and he moaned around Eddie’s length as he swallowed reflexively, so incredibly turned on that one touch and he’d be coming too. 

Eddie hauled him up into his lap, kissing him thoroughly, either not caring or not minding that he could taste himself on Steve's mouth. Without breaking the kiss he slid a hand into Steve’s pants, stroked him a few times, and that was all it took to have Steve seeing stars again. 

Once they’d come back down to earth, and Eddie had cleaned him up with one of their bath towels, they snuggled down into bed together under the covers. Steve sighed contentedly, wrapped up in Eddie's arms was quickly becoming his favorite place to be. 

“Do you think we could ever… tell people about us?” He asked softly, face pressed into the crook of Eddie’s neck. 

“Is that something you want?”

Steve nodded, running his hand up Eddie’s arm. “I’d like to be able to tell El, and Robin. If you’d be alright with it.”

“Yeah I think that would be okay.” Eddie said, squeezing him a little tighter. Steve couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m pretty sure Dustin already suspects, and I think I’d like Chrissy to know, if that’s okay.”

Steve sat up a little, beaming. “Yes, of course. Eddie. I… “ He stopped short, afraid he was asking for too much too soon. 

“What?”

“I don't want to push you, if you’re not comfortable, but I don’t want to have to hide. Not here with our friends and family. If you would want to, I’d be okay with everyone knowing.”

“Oh. That's, um- ” Eddie hesitated. 

Steve tried not to look disappointed. “Too much?”

“No, not at all.” Eddie said quickly. “It’s just, that’s a lot of people to come out to all at once, but I think I want that too. I don’t want to have to hide how I feel about you. I want to hold your hand, and sit too close, and have you call me baby and whatever other names you want without feeling like you have to whisper.”

“Yeah?” Steve said, happy tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

“Yeah, fuck it. We’ll tell them all tomorrow.”

“You think everyone will be okay with us?”

“I hope so, and if someone isn’t, then at least we’ll know.”

-

Steve woke with a gasp only a few hours later. Eddie was shaking him and shouting his name with an edge of hysteria to his voice that made it clear that something was very, very wrong. 

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, taking in the other boy’s wide, panic stricken eyes.

“El’s gone. She’s not in her bed or anywhere else in the cabin.”

Steve tried to remain calm even as his heart began to race at a frantic speed. Maybe she’d just gone outside to get some air, or it could even be something as silly as her being in the bathroom, and they had somehow missed each other along the way. A fairly unlikely scenario given the size of their hideout, but he wasn’t willing to jump to worst case scenarios just yet. 

He slipped out of bed, thankful that he and Eddie had slept in pajamas tonight. It saved him the time of having to find and put on pants in a tired haze. He opened their bedroom door quietly expecting to be faced with a room full of sleeping bodies, but the living area was empty.  

“Wait, where is everyone?” Steve asked.

“They must already be out looking for her. Come on, we should hurry up and join them.” 

Eddie was ahead of him now, holding the front door of the cabin open, waiting for him. 

He felt like he’d missed a step somewhere. 

Steve shook his head, trying to clear the sleep from his mind. He needed to get it together and find his sister.

He nodded to Eddie wordlessly and made a beeline for the door of the cabin. He flew down the steps and into the trees. It was dark out there in the middle of the woods, but he could see several beams of light in the distance from what he assumed were the other’s flashlights. He should have grabbed one himself, he realized, but he wouldn’t have even known where to look for it anyway. The moon was full, so he could at least see a little and it's not as if she would have gone far. 

“Over here!”

He heard Dustin call out to his right and raced toward the sound of the younger boy's voice, trusting that Eddie would be right behind him. He ran as fast as he could but it seemed like no matter how hard he tried, the light of the younger boy’s flashlight was always just out of reach. 

He glanced back to check on Eddie, knowing that his boyfriend wasn’t exactly an athlete, and skidded to a halt when he realized wasn’t there.

Steve turned a circle twice, squinting into the dark, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

In the process of looking he lost track of Dustin’s light, or any sense of where he was in these god-forsaken woods. He was never going to find Eleven at this rate. Even if he did, he had no idea which direction would take them back to the cabin. 

How had he gotten lost so fast, and what happened to Eddie? He was sure the other boy had been right behind him, he’d heard his footsteps. 

Hadn’t he? 

He needed to find one of the others, and fast. 

“Dustin!” Steve shouted out for the last member of the party he’d seen, or heard anyway. Figuring he’d be the closest by and most likely to hear him. 

“Dustin!” He tried again. 

“Eddie!” He was getting desperate.

“Where did they all go?” He muttered to himself, worried and frustrated. 

“Steve! This way!”

That was definitely Eddie’s voice, he’d know it anywhere. He sounded nearby too.

Steve sped in the direction the sound had come from until a figure with extremely short hair stepped out from behind one of the wide trunks and took off at a sprint.

El, it had to be El. 

He adjusted course and ran after her, screaming her name until he was out of breath. She never turned around or even looked back. Why couldn’t she hear him? She must be terrified. 

Suddenly he burst through the tree line and came face to face with a familiar stretch of chain link fence. It was the exact spot they had escaped through only days ago. He had no idea what would have made El come here of all places, but he wasn’t about to turn back now.

He pushed through the opening in the fence just as the sound of a heavy metal door creaking open reached his ears. He rushed to the exit door, assuming it was the source of the noise and luckily managed to catch it before it fell closed and locked itself. She must have used her powers to open it.

He called El’s name over and over as he searched the building, realizing far too late that something didn’t add up about all this. He’d wandered the familiar halls and even gone down into the lower levels of the lab searching for any trace of her, completely forgetting that there had been a fire here last night. 

Yet there was no damage.

No burnt walls or signs of smoke. Hopper had said the place was a mess, surely it would take weeks if not months of cleaning and repairs to get it looking this good again. Steve's blood ran cold.

It could mean one of two things. Either he had never really woken up and was still in bed dreaming, or this was all an illusion. 

At that realization, the quality of the light around him changed, taking on a sinister red hue, while the air that he was pulling into his lungs became thick and stale.

There was only one person, if you could call him that, that he knew of with the ability to create such convincing visions. The type of thing that could perhaps lure someone out of bed, trick them into leaving the safety of their friends and loved ones, and end up in the last place they’d ever want to go alone. 

Vecna.

The crisp white walls of Hawkins lab fell away, leaving Steve in a place he did not recognize but had quite recently read an awful lot about. Particles fell from the sky like volcanic ash and crimson lightning flashed in the distance. Thick vines criss-crossed over the ground around him, seeming to come from everywhere at once. He had never seen the Upside Down with his own eyes before but he knew without a doubt that somehow that was exactly where he was.

Before he could get his bearings and figure out where in the alternate Hawkins he was, several of the vines came to life at once. Two of them wrapped around his ankles, pushing him off balance and sending him sprawling to the ground. Another set gripped him at his wrists, tugging them to either side, and a final tendril snaked its way firmly around his neck, pinning him to the dirt. 

He thrashed and struggled to no avail as the hold on his throat became tighter and tighter. A shadow fell over him as his vision began to dim, and a pair of disfigured legs with the appearance of raw meat came walking into view. Steve’s gaze rose up the figure above him and he took in the disgusting sight in the distant way of someone who was about to lose consciousness. He was even uglier in person than Eddie's description painted him.

Vecna crouched, scratching over his face with a single long claw.

“Hello, Steven.”

Chapter 13

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world💜

Taglist: @newtstabber @goodolefashionedloverboi @adaed5 @buckleybarnes @soaringornithopter @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @bestwifehaver @5ammi90 @sofadofax @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @hardboiledleggs @mentallyundone @epiclazershark @herebedragons404 @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @the-s-is-silent @brbsoulnomming @goinsteddie @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga @thestarslittleking

[useramor]

sentences sunday

let's get it. in the final home stretch of this fic now :) also this isn't smut for once sorry to disappoint but this fic is not actually 90k of straight porn there's some plot too. here's proof of that.

tagged by @comaboybuck @rewritetheending @911onabc @honestlydarkprincess

Eddie kisses his shoulder, his neck, the skin just behind his ear. He smells like coconut shampoo, and a little bit like everything Eddie’s ever wanted. 

Realizing you’re gay and in love with your best friend at the same time is a trip, because now Eddie has some unbelievably sappy thoughts and he can’t even pretend he doesn’t mean them, because he’s in love—fully and wholeheartedly—for the very first time.

Sappiness is allowed, he thinks. 

In the privacy of his own mind, at least, because he cannot imagine saying any of this out loud. 

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know?” Buck says after a moment. Eddie just looks at him. Soft expression, gentlest look in his eyes. Most kissable idiot Eddie’s ever met. “Is it selfish of me to say I hope you never fall in love? Because I want to keep you.”

Genuinely, Eddie nearly screams. 

You can have me! he wants to say. Wants to shout from the fucking rooftops. Wants everyone to know he and Buck belong to each other, and that it doesn’t matter that he has fallen in love, because Buck’s fallen in love with him. Because they tripped on the same feeling and fell into it all together.

buck's an idiot (affectionate) and we love him very much

tagging @buddiearemydads @oliverstaark @messyhairdiaz @sibylsleaves @enchantedbuckley @eddiediass @jjudaslips @destielbuddiepipeline @diazass @henswilsons @eddiescowboy @maygrantgf :)

(and @diazly cuz she said i could tag her whenever i posted fwb snippets)

[gayhoediaz]

fuck it friday

tagged by @homerforsure and @messyhairdiaz ♡

still from the addition to stupid people (but i think it will be able to stand on its own for the people who don't feel like reading that.) ♡

“All you’re focused on is being good for me, but you’re so fucking beautiful it makes me weak in the knees, you know that?” Eddie spills then, Buck’s open throat predictably producing a sound somewhere in between a gag and a moan, his eyes firm on Eddie’s - a line appearing in his forehead; one that Eddie recognizes as desperation - one that tells him that if Buck currently had the ability to, he would be scrambling to grab Eddie’s face in between his hands to kiss him senseless. “Always,” Eddie finds himself continuing. “But especially like this.”  Especially when your hair is a mess; especially when you’re wearing socks and nothing else; especially when you’re sporting just enough stubble because you haven’t shaved in a day or two; especially when you taste like coffee and morning breath; especially when your pubic hair is growing wildly all the way down to your ass, because you don’t worry about trimming it quite as often as you used to; especially when I’m reminded that you’re mine, just as much as I’m yours. Especially when I’m reminded that you’re not the same person who knocked on that hotel room door - and I’m not the same person who opened it. Those people grew, and changed, and they made it. We’re home.   “I love seeing you happy,” he settles for, retreating his fingers out of Buck’s mouth. Because when it comes down to it, he thinks that's what it is. All of those little things that should be unattractive - socks and morning breath - they don’t stop Buck from happily spreading his legs, and they don’t stop Eddie from eagerly getting in between them. Somehow that combination always has Eddie’s knees weak. Everything just feels warm and comfortable - and happy.    “Fuck!” Buck shouts as soon as his mouth is empty, dropping his head backwards as Eddie strokes his cock. “I fucking love you!” His voice isn’t loud enough to reach anyone outside, but it’s certainly enough to reach the rest of the house - probably equal parts sexual frustration and ‘The house is empty, why the fuck not?’  “Easy,” Eddie chuckles, his cheeks aching with the size of his grin as he brings the saliva-drenched fingers down to Buck’s entrance. “You wanna shout it from the rooftops too?”  “You want me to? I would,” Buck says, picking his head back up, his wicked grin brighter than a thousand suns.  “I know you would,” Eddie hums.

tagging @rewritetheending @like-the-rest-of-la @housewifebuck @queertartt @wh0re-behavi0r @henswilsons @fleurdebeton @fiona-fififi

[bitchinbarzal]

Could u do 84. "Will you please just talk to me?" And 92. "Have you told anyone about us?" with Ethan ??

“Will you please just talk to me!” Ethan begs as you walk past him.

“Eddy c’mon she doesn’t want to talk to you” Mark yanks his roommates arm.

“No, no I want her to answer me! She’s been ignoring me all-“

You turned on your heel then and glared at him “Oh fuck off! You know fine well why I’m ignoring you!”

“I do not!”

“I’m sorry does you getting up and moving away from me at the football game when your friends came over then proceeding to panic and ask me ‘have you told anyone about us?’ Ring a bell?” You seethed and Ethan visibly gulped.

“Look I’m sorry-“

“You don’t get to be embarrassed of me Ethan!” His eyes widened, panicked.

“I’m not! Baby-“

You put your hand up to stop up him “I deserve to be with someone who will shout from the freaking rooftops about how much they love me Ethan… not someone who won’t sit with me in public”

“Babe, please!”

“I’ve gotta go to class… see you around Edwards”

It was as if the use of his last name wounded him as he watched you walk away and his breathing became laboured.

“C’mon man-“

“What did i do?”

“What did i do?”

It was as if you saying his own name had stabbed him in the heart, his breath was laboured as he watched you walk away.

[watchoutforthefanfics]

I'll follow you (until you love me) || Reddie (It)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: request by @lovingcookiemonsterblog

Summary: When Eddie finally got to be with Richie, he never really thought of what that would mean. Other than waking up with him and dealing with him every day (which he'd say he hated but he actually loved). The harsh reality of Richie being a famous comedian (being recently involved in a scandal and then coming out didn't really make it any better) is overwhelming, especially when he experiences it's fruits for the first time.

TWs: agoraphobia, panic attacks, just general anxiety, crying, disability insecurities, paparazzi (they really should be a trigger warning), mention of vomit, explicit language (its reddie), hurt/comfort, and invasive questions.

[[A/N: We stan a fiercely protective Richie, ESPECIALLY over Eddie. Also yes that is a lyric from the Lady Gaga song, what about it? ALSO, Eddie uses a wheelchair. And I kind of really related to Eddie hardcore in this (I have debilitating anxiety), soooooo... This was wayyyy more indepth than I meant it to be. Whoops. Like this is more generally about fame than anything else, but there is a paparazzi scene. Anyway, thanks for the request and enjoy :))) ]]

If you told a younger Eddie that he'd end up married to a famous comedian and be somewhat in the limelight (living in fucking LA), he'd probably go into cardiac arrest. That being said if you talked to an even younger Eddie, and told him the comedian was one Richie Tozier, it would make complete fucking sense.

Well, not complete sense because he grew up in the 80s, and homophobia felt like it was never going to go away. But in his heart of hearts, he'd know it made sense and it might make his day. (Or year, or maybe fucking life as a ripe fucking 10 year old.)

All that being said, Eddie was married to one Richie Tozier and for the most part, stayed out of the limelight at the extra precaution of Richie. He knew Hollywood was cruel, and he wanted to keep him out of it as much as physically possible. Despite wanting to also shout it from the fucking rooftops that they were together, that Eddie Kaspbrak (Tozier now) loved him. Eddie could fucking relate, every time he saw Richie he could feel his younger self nearly die with how much he just... loved him.

That being said, Richie did talk about him in the public eye.

When he first, too casually Eddie always said, mentioned that he had a husband, the whole fucking world flipped on its head. (As far as he remembers, it was a podcast interview and he told a story about Eddie, generically referring to him as his husband for anonymity's sake.) Even after his coming out tour (which all proceeds went to numerous charities as a part of his apology he released upon coming back from Derry), which was at least a year after his official coming out if Eddie remembered correctly (of course he fucking did), the general public lost their shit. He was still even a big deal now, regarded entirely as a gay icon, and even being on fucking magazine covers for pride month (Eddie had kept a copy of each for more reasons than one).

And not to mention his Twitter.

Richie nearly constantly tweeted about him, using the name Spaghetti (which Eddie fucking hated, mind you).

Richie Tozier ✔️

@/trashmouthtozier

my sweet lil spaghetti has spent a considerable chunk of the day color-coding my socks, what would I do without him

They were all sweet messages at their core but Eddie still sometimes recognized it as the same fuck teasing he'd always done. In which Eddie would either slap him or kiss him senseless (it usually ended up being the latter).

The fucker actually tweeted about him so fucking much that his fans actually loved Eddie, despite only really knowing him as Richie Tozier's husband. Eddie found it endearing but he'd never admit to it. (Richie probably already knew anyway. And he didn't give a fuck about anyone else. Well, except for 4 other someone elses.)

All that to say, Eddie Tozier felt a little like after two years of being Richie's husband that he wanted to be fucking known as his husband. To the whole world. (Okay, so it still scared the shit out of him, but Eddie was kind of sick and tired of the fucking run around).

And he wanted to talk to Richie about it.

"Oh Eddie, baby, won't you come to my arms tonight? I beg and plead you, please succumb to my charms tonight-"

Eddie rolled his eyes.

Richie had a habit of playing that song when he needed him, for whatever stupid reason. (And it was always stupid). Instead of, you know, calling for him or maybe fucking texting him (their 'fuck you I'm rich' house really was big enough that he might not actually hear it).

Even still, Eddie played along. Like he always did.

Sighing, he rolled his wheelchair over to the coffee table, dutifully marking where he was in his book (he'd taken up reading, despite Richie's consistent shitting on it) and placing it on the table. After setting it a little too perfectly on the table, he spun around and made his way to Richie's office. Where he was supposed to be working on a new show (one for Netflix)-

"What, asshat?" Eddie asked from the doorway, Richie promptly turned off the song.

"Eds!" He'd grinned with fond fucking eyes (and it made Eddie's insides tie up in knots like it always did), acting a little like he hadn't expected him to be there. He was a shithead like that sometimes -most of the time, he corrected.

"Don't act fucking oblivious," Eddie chastised, with only a little bite, "-You're supposed to be working. We literally set aside 2 hours a day for this shit, and you can't even do that. But I'm fucking holding you to it, so what do you want?"

"Wow, Spaghetti, a husband-" he placed a hand on his heart -dramatically, "-can't want his husband's presence?"

Richie was kind of obsessed with calling Eddie his husband, if you couldn't tell.

"You literally have my presence every other hour of the day, dipshit."

Despite his words, Eddie rolled further into the office -coming right up beside Richie's desk chair. He was sitting in it so they were right about as level as they could be (with Richie's freakishly tall stature). Richie was still fucking cheesily grinning, Eddie held back the urge to kiss the fucking thing off his face. And instinctively, Richie turned to face him -so close they bumped knees. (Eddie remembered days in the clubhouse when he would think about those kinds of touches for weeks.)

Eddie leveled again, a tinge frustrated, "What?"

Richie wordlessly cupped his face (big ass man hands) and kissed him. The domestic kind that Eddie could barely believe he could get from Richie sometimes. He got as lost in it as he did the first time (he hoped he'd never get fucking used to it), and felt his frustration slip away.

He was always so good at calming Eddie down. It was really fucking frustrating in certain circumstances; now, though, he didn't really mind.

After a breath, they parted -Richie didn't let go of his face though. Blue eyes just looking at him like he couldn't believe he sat right in front of him.

"Don't fucking distract me," Eddie continued, but the bite was long gone, "-what do you want?"

"Just you," Richie answered honestly, still smiling but dropping his hands, "-can you sit in here with me? And like fucking... organize my desk or something? Sort the filing cabinets-"

"We don't have filing cabinets, and I organized your desk like a week ago."

"Fucking sit with me, Eds," Richie whined (not unlike a toddler), before adding, "-preferably in arms reach."

Eddie sighed out a long breath, "Do you still have those contracts for the venues you're preforming at?"

That brought him to now, with his reading glasses (that Richie fucking loved), skimming through a considerably large packet -with a lot more of them beside him on the desk. He sat diagonal to Richie, who was turned toward the computer, and Richie's hand was on his knee -thumb rubbing back and forth.

He was pretty clingy if Eddie cared about shit like that. But he didn't, he actually liked it (if he was completely honest with himself). Always needing to touch him in some way, Eddie thought sometimes it was a residual thing after not being able to for 27 years. Especially when they were always touching as kids.

And Eddie was reading over the contracts because he was Eddie.

"Do you have your own audio equipment?"

Richie pursed his lips, immediately giving Eddie his full attention (like he always does), "I have no fucking clue, Eds. Why?"

"This place in Minnesota is charging you a fee to use their equipment," Eddie mindlessly explained, continuing to skim the paperwork.

Richie laughed a little, "Eddie baby, I don't care about fees."

"Then why am I reading these?" Eddie questioned, dropping the contract onto his lap -a little dramatically.

"Eds," Richie leveled looking at him a little too fondly, "-I told you that you didn't have to do that. That was all you."

"Fuck you," Eddie retorted, "-if you get swindled, it's not my problem."

"Oh, but it is," Richie grinned, "-marriage means shared finances, baby~"

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too big to mean it. It made Richie light up, every fucking time he smiled, he had the same reaction-

"Love you, Eds," he chimed, staring like he always was.

Eddie pursed his lips together, maybe trying to hide a smile, "I love you too, asshole."

Richie looked like a fucking little kid on Christmas when he said that. It made Eddie's heart go fucking haywire, it really couldn't be fucking healthy, he was in his 40s. But still, it was Richie. His Richie. They were fucking married. He almost died, and he was in a wheelchair, but Richie did not give a shit and just loved him. He was so fucking lucky to be here, even if he was a dumbass 99% of the time-

"Earth to Spaghetti," Richie interrupted, talking into his hands like he was talking through a walkie or something, "-can you hear me?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, "You better have something better than that in your fucking script or we're losing the house."

Richie burst into laughter at that, throwing his head back (Eddie's favorite kind, if you were wondering). He watched it for a second, before goofily chuckling a little.

And then, he had a thought.

"Hey, Rich?"

Richie turned his attention again, tilting his head at the sudden seriousness. Something in his eyes flashed as worry, Eddie grabbed his hand and squeezed it once, everything's okay. His gaze lightened.

"I want to be like-" Eddie fidgetted with his hands, "-known as your husband. I wanna like go to your shit, and just... I want to be fucking known."

Richie paused a second, "That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, Eds-"

"I literally read out wedding vows-"

"Still," Richie echoed, smiling too big, "-the world knowing Eddie Kaspbrak is my husband-"

"Tozier," Eddie corrected, and Richie grinned like he'd said it for the first time, "-and I think I'm going to be known as Richie Tozier's husband if anything."

"Fuck that," Richie chimed, "-I'm gonna make sure that I'm fucking known as Eddie Tozier's husband, so help me god. I can see it now, 'Eddie Tozier's husband's Trashmouth Tour'-"

"Oh, fuck you-" Eddie laughed, and shoved into his side.

"-I'll hard launch it on Twitter, put Eddie Tozier's husband in my bio."

"You wouldn't fucking dare," Eddie chastised.

He did dare, in fact.

Eddie had never really expected news articles with his name on it, front and center, but they came in quick. And then, Richie got a fucking daytime television interview to talk about him, of all things.

That's where they were now, Eddie was watching them put makeup on Richie covering up blemishes that he loved, personally. And he almost said something, but it was Hollywood. And Richie knew that he preferred him the way he was. Even in his holey pajama t-shirts, and ruined socks that he wouldn't throw away-

"How do I look, Eds?" Richie chimed, chair spun around to face him.

He was wearing a fucking suit that rivaled the one Eddie forced him to wear on their wedding day (he did let him choose a bowtie though, it was Richie's wedding too). But it was fucking tailored to him, broad fucking shoulders and shit. Eddie was allowed to think his husband was hot, but he wasn't going to say it here.

Tapping the wheels of his chair, he scanned over him.

"Like a painted whore," Eddie commented -plainly.

Richie burst into enough laughter that the hair people had to fix his hair afterward. Eddie was used to death glares, and he gave them right back. Probably the best one, Richie said he really did have the scariest one he'd ever seen.

Eddie simply watched as they did Richie's hair. It was a little longer now, by the grace of god (he was a man in his late 40s after all), and Eddie was used to the mess on the top of his head. But what they were doing with it, wasn't bad. It defined the curls a little more and erased the frizz. Well, actually, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Because the frizz reminded him of his own personal Richie in Derry, sneaking through his window to read comics. That Richie never took care of his hair, but this one didn't look bad. He looked fucking handsome, all pressed suit and perfect hair.

But it had nothing on his Richie.

Literal seconds from airing, Richie scampered over into his chair. Eddie felt a little bad about it, but not enough for it to really matter.

Eddie rolled over to just out of frame, in perfect sight of Richie. He was also in a place where he could peek at the camera, and see how it would look on TV. It was actually pretty cool, and he even got to ask the camerawoman a few questions, which she was stoked to answer. She was friendly, and he was glad. Because being out in public without Richie entirely by his side usually made his skin itch. Or burn. Whichever was worse in the long run. But somebody friendly made him feel better.

"Alright, three, two, one-" somebody called out, and Eddie was struck with the fact that this was live.

"Hello, everyone," the woman (who he couldn't tell you the name of but seemed strangely familiar) cheered, looking at the camera with picture-perfect teeth, "-today, I am joined by one Richie Tozier, an award-winning comedian that you may know from his 'Out of the Closet Extravaganza' Tour, about 3 years ago. Richie, how are you today?"

"I am fantastic, thank you, Eloise," Richie responded -politely. Eddie nearly snorted at him, it was just so not him.

"While I would love to ask you about your tour," she smiled, "-That is not quite why we're here, is it?"

Richie laughed a little (it was only a little genuine, Eddie could tell), and his eyes landed on Eddie for just a second, "It is not."

"About a week ago," she looked down at her card, reading as his Twitter bio flashed up onto the screen behind her, "-you put on your Twitter, Eddie Tozier's husband. And that, set off a media frenzy."

"Oh, yeah, it did," Richie patted his hands along his lap, and the woman, Eloise, laughed.

"Were you not expecting such a reaction?"

"Look, if there's anyone that's a big Eddie Tozier fan, believe me, it's me," Richie grinned, and the woman laughed, "-but, no. I did not expect it to get as big as it did."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Fuck his sweet sentiments-

"You have publically talked about your husband before this though, haven't you?" She questioned, opening the floor.

"Have you seen my Twitter?" He joked, before continuing more seriously, "-I talk about him all the time, and I would do it more, actually, if I could."

Eloise laughed, very practiced (it kind of freaked Eddie out), "On your Twitter, you used the name spaghetti, right? To refer to your husband?"

"Yes," Richie looked at Eddie (who promptly rolled his eyes), it made him smile bigger, "-I did."

"Now, where exactly did that idea come from?"

Good god, Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. Richie laughed at the reaction.

"Well, um," Richie started, excited and it made Eddie smile (despite his best wishes), "-me and Eds, we were actually childhood best friends. We grew up together with some others that I'm still very close to now-"

"Mhm," Eloise hummed, following the conversation.

"-but I used to call him Eddie Spaghetti then, back when we were like... eleven. And it eventually just shortened to spaghetti at some point."

"And you still call him that?" she questioned, with a more genuine smile.

"Oh yeah," Richie laughed, motioning to him -slightly, "-he hates it, you should see him now actually."

"Oh, he's here?" Eloise spoke, spinning to see him. Eddie just politely smiled and waved. She smiled and did the same.

"Of course," Richie breathed out, "-I wouldn't have even gotten here on time if it wasn't for him."

"I see," she laughed, before questioning more (as an interviewer does), "-and you said you were childhood friends? But you haven't been married this whole time, have you?"

"Oh, no," Richie answered, "-we got married right around when the tour started. It was the typical thing, really, uh... high schoolers drifting away for college."

"And you reunited?"

"Yes, about five years ago," Richie explained, a little tightly (Eddie knew why, it was tough to talk about), "-there was this whole, uh, get-together between that friend group I mentioned earlier, and we... we found each other again."

"Was it just a reconnection sort of thing?" She questioned.

"Oh, no, no-" Richie stressed, "-I'd been in love with the guy since I was like... six. It was just the '80s, and I don't know about you but it's tough to risk losing your best friend to something like that."

"Wow," she added, "-so he was your lifelong love. And it just reignited when you met back up?"

"Well," Richie paused, looking at Eddie for a moment -asking, Eddie nodded (he kind of liked the idea of being public about his paralysis, it might help someone else), "-he actually got injured on that trip. Uh, he was paralyzed in both of his legs, and the whole thing just made me... come clean."

"Wow," she repeated, somewhat in disbelief, "-what an inspiring love story, truly. To wait all those years, and find each other again, that's truly amazing."

"I know," Richie turned to the camera, "-There's hope for all you single people out there, I was in my 40s and found him. Stay hopeful."

Eloise laughed, "Before we wrap this up, Richie, is there anything you want to say? Or-" she turned to Eddie, motioning, "-Eddie for that matter."

Eddie blinked, swallowing. What?

Richie nearly immediately caught it (eyes sweeping along his face), like he had some sort of Eddie radar and knew when he was distressed. And he kind of did, actually-

"All I can say is that I love my husband," Richie smiled big, turning the woman's attention back to him like a light switch, "-and to all you Twitter users who think you love him more, I have you topped by probably a million. Maybe more."

Eloise laughed, "Well, 30 years of being in love will do that to you, huh?"

"Yes," Richie nodded, eyes lingering on Eddie, "-it will."

"And that's all for to-"

Eddie blinked, fingers dancing along the armrests of his chair. The stir of anxiety slunk through him, it wasn't a threat anymore, but Eddie couldn't exactly shake it. There were so many cameras, who was to say that they weren't filming him? Him and his cheek scar and his wheelchair-

A noise caught his attention, it was Richie's foot tapping against the floor. His eyes kept darting to Eddie like he could tell what he was feeling, smile painted on. Worried.

Eddie's fingers tightened on the armrests, as he watched people move around the stage -assumedly winding everything down. He kind of wanted to roll backstage, and get out of the way (he felt like he was in everyone's way because of his chair-), but he couldn't leave Richie. Looking at him kept him grounded, Richie was always the solution to this kind of thing. If the breathing techniques that his therapist recommended didn't work, Richie did. And he couldn't even remember those techniques-

"That's a wrap," someone mindlessly shouted, and Eddie's head snapped to it, "-Great job, everybody!"

And then, everybody really started moving.

Eddie hadn't even noticed that there were this many people here. It made his heart pound in his chest, and something lodged in his throat. It had been so long since he was in a crowd. He just felt too big, in this stupid fucking chair, he was constantly in the way-

"Can I get some space over here?" he heard Richie chime, but he couldn't focus, it felt distant.

"Eds, hey," and his head snapped to Richie (voice much closer), who was currently on his knees to match Eddie's eye line.

Eddie's eyes darted behind him, where there was a shuffle of people, "There's so many fucking people, Rich."

Crowds scared him now, because of a slew of different things. The bacteria of each person (there was so much in the air), it could make him sick. And even though he was doing better about that, it still felt a little ingrained into him. And then, there was the clown thing. Eddie knew it was dead, he fucking knew that. But he could be here, he could hide in crowds so easily-

"Hey," Richie's hand guided him back down to his eyeline, "-just look at me, okay? You know how I am without fucking attention-"

Eddie choked out a laugh, and it made Richie smile.

"-so just look at me, okay? It's just me and you."

Eddie nodded, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth. Richie was keeping track of them, he could tell.

"We're the only ones who matter anyway," Richie retorted, and Eddie actually laughed at that one. Richie grinned.

"You're such a dick," Eddie tried to frown (it didn't work).

"Ah, there's my Eds," Richie chimed, looking at him like he was the sun (like he always fucking did), "-same grumpy old man-"

"I'm younger than you, dipshit," Eddie interrupted, shoving at his shoulder (but not really wanting him to move), "-and you're gonna fuck up your suit. Can you imagine how fucking dirty the ground here is-"

"Eddie baby, I could not give less of a fuck about this suit," Richie spoke frankly, "-Are you okay?"

Eddie paused a moment, staring at Richie, he could feel the earth fade back into the picture. The people less scary, and the lights less bright, he sunk slightly into his chair.

"Yeah, Rich, I'm okay," he chimed, lowly, "-thank y-"

"Don't even," Richie cut him off, before adding -playfully, "-I would happily get on my knees for my husband any day-"

"Oh, fuck you," Eddie laughed, shoving at him again. Richie landed a wet kiss on his cheek (with the scar, he liked kissing that one), and Eddie shriveled up his nose. That only made him do it again. And again and again and again-

The next time Eddie had to deal with the reality of Richie's fame, wasn't a fun one.

If there was one thing that might make Eddie regret being known as Richie's husband, it was the paparazzi. Richie had made sure they arrived separately and always rented out big spaces so people didn't see him. If it was a perfect world, Richie would never let Eddie experience the paparazzi.

It was not a perfect world.

Eddie knew that Richie had posted a few pictures of him, but he never really thought it was enough to be recognizable. And he didn't mind some people knowing what he looked like, he and Richie made sure it wasn't too much. But, apparently it was.

He was out buying groceries like he always did. Richie had a podcast spot today and offered for him to go but he was always too distracted with Eddie to be productive. So, he didn't go to those.

Usually, this trip was nothing. Eddie would run in, go through his meticulous list, buy it, and then leave. Today, he was about halfway through the list when he heard something. Like a click. Eddie promptly ignored it, staring down the bread aisle, looking for wheat. They kept moving the whole store around, he couldn't fucking stand it-

Click, click.

Eddie pursed his lips, staring at the bread that was just too high for his chair. He debated asking someone to grab it for him. Or maybe there was something lower that he could-

Click, click, click, click, click-

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, turning toward the noise. What the fuck-

And then his eyes stuck on the windows framing the front door -cameras shoved against the glass. Suddenly, the clicks became much louder and the lights flashed into his eyes, it almost made him dizzy. He shaded his eyes, dropping the groceries he had in his hands. His head was spinning, and it felt like his heart was pounding out of his chest. Fuck.

They're here for me.

Moving on instinct, he spun in his chair and turned down the aisle. The clicks only got more frequent, like the less he wanted to be photographed, the more they did it. Fucking vultures-

A breath crashed through his lungs, and he rushed past people who seemed to just stare at him. He felt all these eyes, it made his skin itch.

"Sir," a voice chimed, and he couldn't really look at them (everything was too bright, too loud-), "-are you alright? Do you need-"

"Where's your bathroom?"

The woman guided him into it, and he slammed the door behind him -locking it. Breaths crashed through his lungs, he pushed the back of his chair against the wall. Breathing in and out, in and out. He tried to, he really fucking tried to-

Eddie closed his eyes, trying to remember the technique. Breathe in for... for three seconds? He couldn't... His mind was going too fucking fast. God, these lights in the bathroom were so fucking bright-

There was something stuck in his throat, he felt like his lungs couldn't fill all the way. His fingers tightened around the armrests of his chair, so tight that they might be white. He tried to focus on the feeling underneath his fingers, but he felt numb-

"Fuck," he swallowed, and his eyes were burning (it felt like he couldn't blink), "-fuck."

Was he surrounded? Could he even get out of here? He'd taken an Uber, despite Richie telling him he could call him a car-

Richie, his mind thrummed, right, Richie.

Eddie blinked, hands moving on instinct -dusting through the pockets of his chair.

"Where the fuck is it?" He muttered, low and shaky, feeling through the fabric, and then his fingers found it -his phone. Eddie let out a sigh of relief, heavy and wracking through his lungs.

His hands were shaking, and he could barely see the screen, but he got there, to Richie's contact.

He brought it up to his ear. It barely rang once, before it was answered.

"Hiya, Eds," he chimed, and Eddie felt something in him relax, just a little bit, "-I stepped out of the studio for a sec, what's up?"

Fuck, that's right. He was recording a podcast interview, and Eddie was probably interrupting it.

"Shit, sorry, Rich, I forgot you were-"

His voice must've been rough or shaking, because Richie was immediately clued in.

"Hey, woah," Richie interrupted, "-breathe, Eds, it's fine. I'm always gonna answer when you call anyways."

Eddie tried to say something but it was stuck in his throat. His breath broke out of his lungs so loudly that he was certain Richie could hear it.

"Is everything alright?" Richie asked, and Eddie could immediately tell he was worried.

Eddie's brain was running 100 miles a fucking hour, he felt like he could barely see the walls in front of him. His hands were both still shaking so bad, he almost dropped his fucking phone-

"Eds?" Richie questioned something in his voice so concerned, "-You're kinda fucking freaking me out-"

Eddie's mouth just started moving.

"I'm out shopping, an... and-" he swallowed, letting out a shaky breath -fuck these LED lights, "-I guess somebody fucking recognized me because there's paparazzi all over the front door-"

"What?" Richie's voice flattened into something heavier.

"-I locked myself in the bathroom, Rich, but I can still hear them fucking clicking-"

"Eds-"

"-I took a fucking Uber, and I don't think I can get out, not with my chair. They could just grab me and I'd be fucking helpless-"

"Eddie baby, stop," Richie interrupted, soft and somehow sturdy (maybe to ground Eddie), "-breathe. Tell me where you are."

He felt a breath crash through his lungs, and he felt a little like his voice was shaking.

"T-The regular place," Eddie echoed out, a little numb, "-the one I always go to. Has th... the flower place across the street."

"Right, I remember," Richie confirmed, a little distant, like he was doing something, "-Alright, Eds, gimme one second. Let me tell the guys I need to go an-"

"No, Rich," Eddie breathed out, and his hands were shaking, "-just send me a car. You need to work, do your... do your job."

His mind was screaming at him. Don't make me a burden, please, I can't be a burden- And at the same time, I need you, Richie, please don't fucking listen to me-

"Eddie, I'm coming to get you," Richie leveled back, sternly.

"Richie-"

"No," he continued, strongly enough to make Eddie stop talking, "-Eds, you're more important than some fucking interview. You should know that. Plus, you think I can focus on that shit, fucking make jokes of all things, when you're locked in a grocery store bathroom scared as fuck?"

Eddie fell quiet. But something in his chest was fucking elated. Richie's gonna be here, Richie's always gonna be here-

"So," Richie repeated, "-I'm coming to get you. I'm gonna tell the guys, and see if I can get Cynthia to call Steve."

"Why not you?" Eddie questioned.

"Eds, I'm not hanging up this fucking phone," Richie laughed incredulously, "-fuck that. I'm staying on here with you until I'm there."

Richie's gonna be here, Richie's gonna stay with you-

Before Eddie could say anything, Richie was speaking.

"Hey, John, I'm so sorry, but my husband's having an emergency. Imma have to cut this short-"

He heard another voice but it was distant, Eddie couldn't quite make it out.

"No, yeah," Richie seemed to answer, "-I'll reschedule as soon as possible. See ya."

Eddie heard the slap of footsteps along the concrete, and it bounced around his head for a few minutes. His eyes dragged along the tile. The lights were so fucking bright in here, it made his head hurt. And if he focused enough, he could hear the clicks echoing through the air. Even locked away, they sti-

"Alright, I just sent Cynthia a text," Richie pulled him out of his thoughts, "-Google says you're like five minutes away. So-"

"What?" Eddie spoke, blankly -mind running with possibilities, "-Rich, you can't just walk in here, there's so fucking many outside. They could-"

"Eds, Eddie baby," Richie brought him back, tone gentle, "-I'm a big guy, okay? I've been to overpacked clubs before, I can do this shit. And there's no fucking way I'm not trying with you inside."

"Just be careful," Eddie echoed out, and his whole body felt exhausted, "-please."

"Of course," Richie assured, adding playfully, "-don't worry your pretty little head about me, Spaghetti."

Eddie laughed, but it felt a little warbly, "You know I fucking hate that."

"Do I?"

Eddie huffed out a breath, and it was a little easier to breath (his heart was still racing in his chest), "You're such a dick."

"That's my name," Richie chimed, instinctively, "-don't wear it out, Eds."

Affection bubbled up his throat.

He spoke in a sort of rush of words, scared but Richie made him feel safe (he always fucking did), "I love you."

"I love you too, Eddie," Richie spoke back, and he was smiling (but Eddie could tell he was getting anxious himself), "-I'm on my way-"

"As long as you're here," Eddie echoed out, his fingers squeezing against the armrests (at least they weren't shaking anymore), "-I'll be okay when you get here."

Richie paused for a second, seeming to take the words in. Eddie might have heard his footsteps pick up, though, he wasn't too sure. (He could certainly guess though.)

"Is it a nice bathroom at least?"

Eddie laughed a little, relaxing slightly, as his eyes skimmed along the bathroom. It wasn't the worst he'd ever seen (he had attended public school) but he eyed the strange stains and the rusted tap of the sink. And frowned.

"I'm gonna need to wash my wheels after this," Eddie replied decidedly, "-and maybe shower."

Richie laughed for a second, "The 'money-efficient' kind or the 'scrub everything on your body until it falls off' kind?"

Eddie rolled his eyes.

"But seriously," Richie asked, maybe trying to keep him distracted, "-is it that bad?"

"It's a fucking bathroom," Eddie clarified, "-I'd want my shit washed anyway."

"Is that why you never use public restrooms?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Eddie asked -incredulously.

"No, you're right," Richie amended, "-you're Eddie Kaspbrak, I must've blown a fucking fuse or something-"

"Tozier, dipshit," he corrected again (sometimes he thinks he does it just to hear him correct him), "-It's fucking Tozier. Do you not remember marrying me?"

"I could never forget it, Eds," Richie hummed, a little too genuinely.

Eddie felt something in his chest squeeze in a good kind of way, then. And it lasted for a solid second. But it still clawed up his throat, overwhelming. Richie's here, but he's not here. He can't feel his fucking strangely warm hands, or smell that Richie smell he's had since he was fucking 7-

He's on his way, he's coming-

"Are you almost here?" Eddie croaked out, and it was soft and shaky.

He could almost hear Richie's mouth flattening, before he seemed to pause -maybe looking around. His feet didn't stop moving.

"Yeah," Richie spoke -carefully, "-Yeah, I can see it."

Eddie knew it to be the crowd and not the shop. He wanted to ask how many there were, or maybe if he thought it was fucking safe to get in. But instead, something else bit up his throat.

"Don't hang up," it came out harsh and with sharp edges. He was just getting defensive when he felt scared like he always did-

"Eds," Richie leveled, very seriously, "-I'm not hanging up until you open that shitty ass bathroom door, okay?"

Eddie choked out a laugh, a small one.

Before Richie could respond to the noise, he heard the phone swarm with noises. There was the clicks, which seemed to triple at the sight of Richie (they were so loud) and there were voices shouting.

"Richie, is that your husband in there?"

"What do you have to say about the hate you've gotten since coming out?"

"If there was one thing you could-"

"Alright, fucking enough," Richie's voice billowed through the phone, and Eddie felt a little better hearing it, "-if you fuckers don't get the fuck out of my way. So help me god-"

It reminded him of a few different things, a younger Richie in that summer (fighting a fucking demon clown as a kid) or maybe just Richie in general. He was always fighting the bullies back, either for himself or another loser, and even if they broke his fucking nose, he wouldn't stop-

Richie Tozier had always been somewhat protective, especially of him. Eddie could definitely acknowledge that.

He couldn't count on both hands the amount of times Richie had stood up for him when he was afraid. Sometimes Eddie got angry and did it himself, yeah, but Eddie was half anxious all of the time. Worrying about everything. So, he couldn't. Richie never let it go unchecked.

"-I will sue each one of you into fucking oblivion. And I'll make sure to win, every single one of them. Capiche?"

The clicks didn't die down, but Eddie did hear the door swing out and slam shut behind him. He could actually hear it a little with his own ears too. It settled underneath his skin that he was finally fucking here-

"Is this private property?" Richie asked, "-They can't get in here, right?"

"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry, I don't know why they're here-"

"Where are your bathrooms?" Richie cut her off -shortly.

"Sorry, there's someone in there-"

"Yeah, I know," Richie clarified, straightforwardly, "-he's my husband. Where are your bathrooms?"

Eddie didn't hear her response, but he did hear the footsteps in both ways. With his own ears and through the phone, it made something in him stir. Calming, so very calming. God, he's here-

And then there was a knock, and the line cut off.

"Eds?"

Eddie moved so fast that it made him dizzy, spinning around and unlocking the door. He swung it open and when he saw Richie standing right there, eyebrows pulled together and lips flattened into a line (he must've really looked fucked). He burst into fucking tears.

"Oh, Eddie baby," Richie cooed (normally he would hate it but he didn't now), and moved to get on his knees.

"No," Eddie shook his head sharply, "-this bathroom is fucking disgusting."

"Well, Eds-"

"Just fucking..." Eddie let out a shaky breath, "-crouch or something, I don't know-"

Richie paused, skimming over him, "I've got a better idea."

With careful hands, Richie crouched down and slotted them under his armpits -standing up and pulling him into his chest. Eddie instinctively wrapped his arms around Richie's neck and Richie's hands hooked under his limp knees -holding them right at his hip.

"This okay?"

Eddie wordlessly dug his face into Richie's neck. Just breathing in, Richie. His Richie-

"Imma take that as a yes," Richie chimed.

Eddie didn't have much fight in him at this point, but he still muttered into his skin, "I fucking hate you."

"One moment it's marry me, the next it's I fucking hate you," Richie joked -playfully, "-I'm getting mixed signals here, Eds."

"You asked me to marry you, dickweed."

[They'd just been lying on the couch, watching some old Western (mostly for the cowboys). Richie's head was in Eddie's lap, and Eddie's hands were combing through his hair. He was actually watching the movie, Richie was just staring up at him.

"What are you looking at, dipshit?"

"Marry me, Eds."]

"Oh, I did," Richie smiled, "-didn't I?"

Eddie knew that he was trying to calm Eddie down with better memories, nicer thoughts. He was also doing the same thing by being a shithead. That's how they worked. Eddie would be on the edge of a cliff, maybe he'd even be falling, and Richie would always be there to pull him back up.

"Yeah, it evens out," Eddie let out a breath (that wasn't so shaky anymore), "-because I told you I was in love with you first."

["Eds, are you seriously just wanting to fucking flip your whole life upside and come to LA with me?" Richie asked, in the hospital -a couple months into his recovery, "-All the people, the fucking celebrities everywhere, influencers up and down the streets fucking... vlogging or whatever-"

"I'm fucking divorcing my wife, I hate New York, I hate my life, actually-" Eddie paused for a minute, staring at Richie, "-and LA has you. It's a fucking obvious choice."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

And maybe it was the little bit of hope he recognized in his voice. Or the shine in his eyes that Eddie had seen his whole fucking life (and was pretty sure he could identify now). But, he just said it.

"I'm in love with you, asshole," Eddie confessed, "-and I'm not spending one more fucking second apart. Not if I can help it."]

"Yeah," Richie hummed, fondly, "-I remember."

Eddie added, laughing a little, "And then you threw up in response."

"Oh god, gimme a break, Spaghetti," Richie sighed -playfully exasperated, "-I had been waiting my whole fucking life for those words. And I never dreamed I'd get them. Then you just fucking say it so casually, like I asked you what time it was-"

Eddie leaned back, matching Richie's eyes -he was smiling so brightly (it made Eddie's insides tie up in knots), "Do you know what it's like to confess to the love of your life and they fucking throw up in response?"

"No," Richie relented, "-You decidedly did not throw up, but-"

Eddie rolled his eyes, again.

"-you did say 'thought so' like a cocky ass bitch."

"Well, I wasn't fucking wrong, was I?" Eddie pointed out.

Richie just looked at him for a few seconds, in disbelief. Like he couldn't believe he was there. Like he couldn't believe they were married or that Eddie loved him back. He always did that. Eddie could relate, though, so maybe it wasn't so bad.

"No, Eddie Tozier," Richie smiled, softly like he was looking at the love of his life (which Eddie knew that he was), "-you weren't."

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education: Chapter 18

Masterlist Link

Minors DNI

Chapter 18

One chilly evening in mid-November, Leia sat at her desk after hours grading papers. She'd gotten into the routine of doing as much as possible at school before she left, leaving more of her work at work and more of her evenings to herself, or rather, to herself and Eddie.

She smiled thinking of him. They were still in the haze of a new relationship; the sugar rush of dopamine, and attention, and orgasms (of which there were many, each one a new flavor of delightful). It was an odd contrast; Eddie's manic joy and willingness to shout his love for her from the rooftops, and her practiced tendency to tamp down her emotions in public.

On their first real date at Enzo's, Eddie felt increasingly hurt and confused by her reserved demeanor as he sat in the opposite chair, wearing his one nice button-down shirt. Tapping his foot giddily, he reached across the candlelit table to hold her soft hand and kiss it, like an oddball knight in leather-jacket armor. He sat staring, head in hand and breadsticks forgotten, at her kind sweet face in the soft glow; with her full cheeks and red lips and her curvy little body in that pretty little dress. He was almost salivating and obviously smitten, but slightly wounded. She smiled faintly but seemed uncomfortable the whole evening, like she was bracing herself, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Luckily, he didn't have time to lick his wounds or mope about it. Leia pounced on him the moment they were inside her tidy little flat, grabbing his curls and kissing him like her life depended on it, all teeth and tongue and gasping, painting her slick cherry lip gloss all over his plush mouth. It tingled decadently against his tongue and made him moan in anticipation of those slick sweet lips leaving mementos on other parts of his body. Then she whispered breathlessly into his ear, “I'm wearing a new garter belt and stockings, and I want you to break them in by fucking me against this wall until you make a mess of them. How about it, scoundrel?”

He fixed his wide, startled eyes on hers, their depths glimmering with lust. “Damn, princess! Just when I was starting to think you'd lost interest in me. Guess you're a firework with a long fuse.”

“Eddie,” she gasped out quietly, eyebrows peaked in concern, stroking his hair. “No...no I'm crazy about you! I just feel...stupid...afraid...when I show my feelings, but I have them. I promise. I'm just...not sure how to let them out in the world anymore.”

He looked deeply into her eyes, sighed, and stroked her cheek. “I know, sweetheart. I know you do and I know they run deep. Just be you. I hope, after awhile, you'll feel safe. It's just that I've never been more than a dirty little secret to any girl. I don't want it to be like that with you.”

“Oh Eddie, honey,” she sighed out hugging him close and stroking his hair. “I'm so sorry. That's terrible. You're incredible. I'm so proud to be with you. I figured every girl in Hawkins must be dying to be your girlfriend and be seen on your arm.”

He kissed her forehead. Blushing and shaking his head in disbelief as he tilted her chin up so her eyes could meet his. He smiled a big sweet dimpled grin. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! Seriously. You're a catch, Eddie Munson, and I'm a lucky girl.”

“Nah. I'm lucky and I just can't keep a lid on it. Can't keep my hands off you either. I'm fucking obsessed,” he said in a growl, running the flat of his large palm up her thigh and stroking along the satiny black garters with the pads of his fingers. She remembered the way he grunted in approval as he lifted the silky crimson fabric of her dress, savoring the delicacy before him with his eyes and hands and bit his lip, moving closer, then rasping out, “Jesus, you look amazing in red” just before his mouth found her throat.

Her watch beeped at her, pulling her out of the memory that made her cheeks hot even in the frigid classroom. As Leia's consciousness returned to the present reality, she felt the strain of trying to keep these two vastly different sides of her life in some semblance of balance. Leia had been trained through dismissive cruelty to hide herself, to survive by being very smart and controlled and working very hard. Although she was deliriously happy with Eddie, she felt dizzy and disoriented, more off-kilter than she had in a long time, pulled between incredible happiness and the nearly unbearable press of worrying about her job, her life, her future. The old habits and self-hatred still haunted her. The scars still hurt. Eddie knew what that was like. She mused.

She sighed, rubbed her temples, tapped her pencil, then gathered her things and her thoughts. She didn't want to burden Eddie by talking about all this, but he was always asking her to open up to him more, wasn't he? She was turning the problem over in her aching head as she made her way down the dim hallway, popping an ibuprofen into her mouth along the way. She nearly yelped, almost running directly into dean Ferguson. He was very deliberately blocking her path. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, as she realized the entire floor of the building was empty and dim, with just a few scattered florescent halos of sickly bluish light bouncing off the hard tile and metal lockers. Under their glare, the looming dean looked even more threatening. There was something unnerving about his eyes, which sat like hollow orbs behind the awful clunky glasses. The lights flickered faintly as he came closer.

“Miss Vespero.”

“Dr. Ferguson,” she said firmly, nodding in acknowledgment but holding her head up high.

“Miss Vespero, I see you've taken up your less appropriate mode of dress. I'll have to mention that...”

“Yes...at the conference at the end of the year to review my contract. I'm aware,” she interrupted. She hid it well, but something about all of this seemed...off. She'd been stopped in the hall by this asshole a hundred times before, and although there were never positive feelings associated with his presence, this was eerie and preternatural. Usually he was red-faced, sweaty, furious, the poster child for high blood pressure. This time his face was pale, damp, greenish, like a dead fish. He was shaking, and though it was usually with anger, this time it was a strange shiver with chattering teeth, as if he were freezing to death.

She peaked an eyebrow in wary curiosity. She certainly didn't like the man, but not enough to ignore that he looked seriously ill. “Are you feeling alright?”

He scoffed, but it had an edge of a growl in it, like a rabid animal, and spat out, “I don't need a harlot like you, asking if I'm alright.”

“Excuse me?” she yelled back to him, standing up straighter and moving closer to face him, jaw clenched, eyes fixed. “You do not speak to me that way. No one speaks to me that way, Ferguson. No one. I suggest you expect the board to get an earful about you as well,” she declared, then shouldered past him, striding down the hall. She could swear that she saw him flinch a bit at her last words, not exactly in fear, but more in confusion, as if he had just woken up. This old man is losing his fucking mind, she thought. If he's this unhinged at my review it'll be pretty clear that I'm not the one who's the problem. Nonetheless, her hands shook as she made her way hastily out of the building, then made quick work of the walk home through the darkness.

Long after her echoing footsteps had faded away, Ferguson was still frozen to his spot on the polished floor, and he could swear, somewhere in the distance, he heard the warped chime of a grandfather clock.

-------------

Leia was home, slumped into the couch with a hand on her head, willing the increasingly tight ache and fear to subside. Her place was eclectically decorated in a mix of the cute, the strange, and the creepy, but it was very tidy and cozy, something Eddie found adorable, calling it her “ little hobbit hole.” He marveled that she'd managed to create this, even in a drab apartment block. However today, and steadily over the last few weeks it had descended into anything but a cozy little hobbit hole. The chaos of her anxieties were manifesting around her in piles of laundry, stacks of newspaper and unopened mail, not to mention a fridge with almost nothing left in it.

She felt her stomach rumble, hollowed out like a drum from both hunger and shame. Just looking at her surrounding as they were, made her spiral further still. Leia had always held so tightly to control, intelligence, and hard work to right the ship of her life when the storms of setbacks hit. These talents made her fractured world and the difficulties of her life feel fixable. Usually these traits made her feel capable and valuable, but they didn't at the moment. At the moment she felt irredeemable.

Ferguson's voice, calling her a harlot stabbed into her mind. She knew rationally that, of course, he was the wrong one, the crazy one, the unhinged one, not her. He had never been right about her, but goddamn was he loud and it hurt...and something about this time was so strange and so much worse in a way she couldn't pinpoint. In a single horrible moment all the combined judgments of him, of Sam, of her family, hit her in a single shot, like a fist full of darts hurled simultaneously at a single board. She choked back a sob, but it was no use. The tears were already painting rivulets down her cheeks. At least I'm alone. I don't want Eddie to see me like this.

As if the mere thought of Eddie had summoned him, her phone rang. He always called to check that she got home safely on the days he couldn't pick her up...the sweetheart. Leia took a few deep breaths, trying to even out her stilted breathing as she scrubbed away tears with the back of her hand, then picked up the receiver.

“Hey!” came his sweet voice, humming through. “Make it home okay, dollface?”

She smiled and tried to say brightly, “Yeah! Yeah, safe and sound. Thanks, scoundrel. What about you? Are you okay?”

There was a crackly beat of radio silence as Eddie processed the brittle uneven sound of her tear-soaked voice. When he spoke again his voice had an edge of command to it. “Leia. What's the matter? Tell me.”

She almost said “nothing.” It was an automatic impulse, but it was as if even her body knew it couldn't lie to him and her mouth wouldn't say it. Instead she tried to tell the truth, but nothing came out of her tight throat besides the short hiccups of her tears.

“Leia, I'm coming over.”

She shook her head vehemently though he couldn't see it. “No...no Eddie. I know you're at the Hideout tonight. Don't call off a shift because your girlfriend happens to be crying for some stupid reason. Besides, my place is a mess. I can't let you see it...or me...like this.”

“It's never a stupid reason, Leia. And it's a slow night. Dale was about to send me home early anyway.”

“Promise you're not just saying that so I feel better?”

He chuckled, “honey, you know I'm a horrible liar. If I tried you'd know it.”

Despite her tears, she laughed with him. It was true. Eddie was an honest creature, in every way; loudly truthful and exuberant, and thinking about it made her heart ache with affection for him.

“I love you,” she said.

“I know.”

“Oh fuck off!” she barked, and they both laughed.

When their chuckles simmered down he said very seriously, “I love you too. Be there soon. I'm gonna take care of you and you're gonna tell me everything, alright?”

“Yeah...yeah I will.”

“Atta girl,” he praised quietly, and she almost heard the smile in his voice.

As she hung up the phone her eyes drifted to the Nine Inch Nails poster hanging on her well, and its prescience made her smirk.

You and me, we're in this together now.

@sunflowerdaydreamer @sweetsigyn

[trashmagines]

Primal: Venom (& Eddie Brock) x Reader Short

TrAshy Says: *twirls hair around finger* Hey there y’all like dumpster fire men and alien symbiotes too?

~561 words.

Warnings: Darkish!Venom, stalking, drinking  RAYOR: Read At Your Own Risk

_____

Claws dig into the side of the building briefly before launching the hulking figure that is Venom into the air. He lands effortlessly, bounding from one rooftop to the other, the thuds blending in with the rest of the sounds of the city. Eddie is trying to regain control of his body, but Venom fights him every literal step of the way.

Them.

Must. Have. THEM!

You. 

Venom and Eddie watch as you sit with your friends, laughing loudly and throwing back shots as music blasts from speakers located several yards from you. Venom finds the music annoying, but it doesn’t make them want to rip off Eddie’s ears or break something.

Yeah, thanks for that. Quiet, loser. 

You pat one of your friends on the back, practically yelling at them over the music as you shrug your jacket back on. Venom doesn’t need their acute hearing to know what’s happening as you make your way through the throng of people, veering toward the entrance of the makeshift rave spot. Their eyes follow you, narrowing in displeasure. 

You’re walking home. Alone.

Foolish creature. People do it all the time, V.  You are all foolish creatures. 

Venom leaps down into an alleyway, retreating into Eddie but still puppeteering him to follow you. You walk seemingly without a care, body weaving easily past people and moving to a song that’s playing in your head. The warmth of the alcohol you’ve drank spreads nicely through your veins, but you’re still coherent and aware of your surroundings.

Aware of the eyes you feel on your back.

You whip around suddenly, middle finger in the air and shout “Fuck off, creep!” You scan the faces around you, waiting to see if anyone retreats suspiciously, but all you’re met with is looks of disapproval. You huff indignantly, turning around and quickening your pace.

It only takes about a minute for you to feel the eyes on you again, and you feel them until you close your front door. 

Are you crazy?! Do you want to go to jail?! You are making me angry.

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, throwing his leg over his bike so that he could finally head home. All he’d said was that you were attractive -hot being the actual word he’d used- but it had been a passing observation made in the low light of a dingy bar. Venom, however, had been fixated on you ever since, piloting Eddie’s body to follow you everywhere they could, and taking over completely when his ‘feeble human legs’ moved too slow for their liking. 

Finally in the comfort of their own apartment, Eddie plops down on the couch, lower body burning after the adventure they’d been on. Candid photos of you are scattered everywhere, and Eddie plucks one from the floor to study it. 

What is it about them anyway, V? What’s got you so worked up?

Venom is silent for an uncharacteristic amount of time, but Eddie does eventually get an answer. 

They are ... special. 

The word slithers down Eddie’s spine, making every nerve ending in his body fire rapidly for a split second and his eyes turn a clouded gray. He releases his grip on the photo, hands raking down his face in defeat as it floats back to the ground.

Whatever this is, it’s far from over. Venom isn’t done with you.

[eddieswh0r]

Hiiiii ! I don't know you wanna write about Joseph but may I request that drunk, non-famous!reader x Joseph ? Maybe reader feels insecure about herself because she is not famous and when she is drunk, she confesses her feelings to Joseph ? Waow, it is a long request but if you don't wanna write this, it's okay. I just love your stuff ♡♡

ahhhh omg.omg.omg i love this idea.

i can just imagine it in real life rn 🥹

i hope its okay, im not sure if its what you wanted. I kinda rambled. I’m only used to writing for Eddie🥺🫶🏼

Music was blaring out the speakers as you stood at the side of the dancefloor completely overwhelmed, it was sheer luck you were even here in the first place. A PR event of a new indie film, organized by a friend of a friend, which, said friend asked if you wanted to tag along to. She gave you a slight nudge with her elbow and chuckled "Y/n, you're gawping babe" your cheeks flushed pink slightly as you closed your mouth, this wasn't a setting you were familiar with, let alone being in the presence of celebrities too, your friend had previously argued that their just normal people but you just couldn't wrap your head around it. You see these people on the screen, you felt wrong mixing with them.

. . .

Yet another champagne flute graced your grip as your friend raised her eyebrows at you "It's free.." you giggled. You werent sure how many youd already had but you knew everytime someone walked past with a tray you grabbed another, regardless if you were already holding one. Eyes opened wide you gushed to your friend "T-Thats never... Amy that's... Sex Education boy" with a roll of her eyes and a soft smile "..Yes babe, Asa Butterfield. There all coming through now from that room, see? they'll have finished watching the premiere of the new film and they all come in here to eat and get majorly drunk" Oh you just couldnt wait to see drunk celebs. A waitress saunted past you both, another champage flute? Why not.

As the room filled with more celebs you stared to feel on edge, they were all so glamourous and heres you just in a silk black floor legnth open backed fishtail style dress, it also being the first time youd ever had your hair and make up professionally done, curtesy of Amy. More champagne? of course. Fuck these waiters for always being close.

"Amy, Amy, A-Amy..." you shook her shoulder vigorously "Th-That's.. That's fucking Joseph Quinn" whisper shouting into her ear, Amy tilted her head away from your champagne breath while reaching in her bag and passing you a chewing gum "What Joe? The absolute love of your life? He's here? At a PR for a new Indie film? The new indie film he's the main role of? No. Surely he isnt here for that!" a deep roaring laugh fell from her lips "You didnt tell me that" you hissed narrowing your eyes "If id have told you , you wouldnt haave come, youd have stayed at your boring bar job serving arseholes instead of mingling with the stars" she smirked putting her hand on your shoulder, pushing your slightly forward "Now, go have fun. I have things to do" and with that she glided across the room to talk to another girl all dressed up.

The music was loud and there was bodies everywhere, some you recognized and some you didn't. You'd literally been in love with Joseph since you saw him in Dickensian, a period drama where he'd played Arthur Havisham. Everyone was talking to someone, another champagne flute graced your finger tips and another. The lights on the dancefloor were flashing and Amy was nowhere to be seen, you looked around you, spinning in circles, everything was overwhelming and you felt like you couldn't breathe, the air felt like it had been cut of and you could pass out.

Pushing the door open to a rooftop smoking area you stumbled through it, heading over to the far corner you sat on a rattan style sofa. Taking deep breaths you just couldn't shake the feeling, you didn't belong here, you belonged in the sweaty pub serving middle aged men. By now the fresh air had hit you and you felt a bit worse for wear. A lump in your throat, Uh Oh, emotional drunk incoming. Pushing yourself up from the sofa you stumbled backwards "Woah, Woah. You good? I've got you" two arms snaked underneath yours to catch you. "Oh my g-god, I'm s-so sorry" you drunkenly spluttered, hiccupping "Can we get a glass of water please?" who this person was asking, you didn't know but they'd sat you back down gently and sat down on the small table directly opposite you. Hanging your head down you couldn't even look up at the person who had kindly helped you "S-sorry, i.. i shouldn't be here, I'm not- I'm not like famous or anything. I- i work in a pub and, and my friends friend organized this and.. and" you were cut off from your rambling by a hand taking yours and wrapping it around a glass of water "Well in my whole life darlin' I've never seen a girl as beautiful as you in a pub. Its normally sweaty men" a chuckle left the persons lips as you were shocked at the compliment, definitely a waiter trying to pull his luck, probably thought you were famous at first or something. Lifting your head up to offer thanks your eyes met the most big beautiful brown eyes. "J- Jos- Joseph Qu-. You're, y-you.. Oh. Sh-Shit" a breath you weren't aware you were holding escaped your lips and your cheeks flushed red from embarrassment. Please god, let the makeup hide it. "Just call me Joe" he smiles softly, tilting his head to the side, panic over takes you and you stand quickly "I- I need to go. My friend. Sh-She's probably looking-." Josephs hand taking yours suddenly cut you short. "Please don't go? Cant you stay a while? You smoke?" he asks pulling out a pack, offering towards you, you shake your head but signal your hands for him to go ahead. He takes the cigarette between his lips and lights it, taking a draw back and exhaling. God, that was hot.

"So, Y/n, someone as pretty as you works in a pub but doesn't think they belong here?"

"Firstly, how do you know my name.." you take your position back on the sofa, sitting forward slightly, your knee brushing his.

"You think i wouldn't try and catch the name of the most beautiful girl here, Oh darlin'. I've been watching you since i walked into the room."

"Me? I-. I'm nobody. I'm, I'm just me? I'm not famous or anything"

"That's why you're so perfect, you're you. You're not trying to be anybody else." he edged forward, you could feel his breath on your face. Catching his eyes with yours, you blushed all the colors of red and pink, diverting your gaze down and then looking back up at him through your eyelashes.

A familiar song started playing and he stood, reaching out his hand "What d'ya say, y/n? Can i have the pleasure?" he grinned like a Cheshire cat and you placed your hand in his.

You both collapsed onto the rattan style sofa in fits of breathless laughter, maybe an hour, maybe 2? had passed and you danced and spoke the entire time. You felt so comfortable around Joseph, like you'd known him for years. His smile was so infectious you couldn't help but return it. Much to your dismay, while dancing, you'd rambled on about how much you adored him and were in love with him, stupidly telling him there was a poster on your wall of his face, you scrunched your face remembering what you'd said.

"Joe, we've got to go mate" a voice called from the doorway "I'll wait by the car" Joseph signed, placing his hand on your arm, drawing patterns up and down, your hairs stood on end.

"I better go. Don't miss me too much yeah?" he gave a wink standing up and pulling you with him

"I- I just wanna say thankyou Joseph, you really made me feel at ease. I've enjoyed your company"

"No, y/n.. ThankYOU, i felt like i could be myself around you. And remember.." Joseph took your face into his hands, cupping your cheeks "..When you feel like you don't fit in, that because you're extraordinary and this world is full of ordinary people" there was his soft smile again, melting every inch of you, you leaned up on your tip-toe and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. you exchanged goodbyes and he walked away. Your head was fuzzy, what in the fuck just happened? Am i dead? Did i pass out drunk? Was that real?

You leant against the sofa when a voice yelled out from the door making you jump out of your skin "HEY Y/N?! HOW ABOUT YOU LET ME TAKE YOU OUT? MAYBE YOU WONT NEED TO KEEP MY FACE ON YOUR WALL THEN?" with a cheeky smirk you could just see Josphs head peeping round the door.

"Only if you promise to stop watching me from afar"

[jae-82]

Hell Is Worth All That (Part IV)

eddie x fem!reader

tags: eddie munson, fluff, kissing, maybe a little pg-13? like they aren’t quite having sex yet but we’re working on it

summary: best friends with eddie munson since you were both wee little babies. during your senior year, you both start realizing that maybe that isn’t all you want anymore.

word count:  2,255

Eddie’s POV

Did she just kiss me? Was I fucking dreaming? It was the most electric feeling, her lips crashing against mine. I’m pretty sure I could have fought God and won.

Wait, hold up. Did she really just say she was in love with me? Did I hear that right? I’m normally the type of dude to ask questions later but I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t believe my ears. I had dreamed about something like this, but for it to happen to me, I mean really happen to me, was impossible.

Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

I started to come back down to earth and I realized I hadn’t said anything. I could see her confidence start to dwindle. Wake up, you idiot. Say something. Literally anything.

“I’m yours if you want me sweetheart.”

The way she wrapped herself around me, I’m sure she could hear my heart beating before she felt it. I wanted to tell everyone, I want to tell this whole goddamned town. Get me the president, this was earth shatteringly good news. The kind I wasn’t used to.

“My girl. My girl. My girl.” I picked her up and spun her around like I was a little kid at Christmas time. I was just simply overjoyed.

“D&D on Monday sure is gonna be interesting.” She smiled, looking up at me in a way that absolutely left me lost for words.

“I will proudly carry you in there on my shoulders, shouting that you’re my girl from the rooftops, darling. I hope you know that.” It was true. I would carry her to each and every class she had on Monday if she asked. I’d make lunch for her and serve it to her on a silver platter if she even gave me an inkling that it was what she wanted. I would have done these things for her regardless, but now that she was mine, all mine, I just wanted to give her the world. I wanted to show her that I was more than the Munson name. I would be better.

“That would be a sight to see. But I’d much rather just walk in there, hand in hand, and then just lay a huge smooch on that handsome face of yours.” She wanted to kiss me in public? Oh man, this just kept getting better and better. This girl really was something out of a fairytale, and how she landed in my lap, I will never know. But I’d be an even bigger fool to question it.

We spent the rest of our weekend attached at the hip as usual, lazing around watching movies and eating food that would probably catch up to us at some point. But it just felt so good to finally have this out in the open. To have these feelings that had been building for years to finally come to fruition.

Monday rolled around, and before school, y/n had gone home to grab a change of clothes. She’d spent the weekend in various shirts of mine, my boxers acting as her shorts. It was the cutest thing, and I didn’t mind a bit. But that wasn’t gonna fly at school. When she came back to meet me at the van, she was wearing dark washed Levi’s, perfectly hugging her every curve. A black tee shirt with Debbie Harry across the front, Blondie in a hot pink font. She was wearing one of my flannels over it, black converse tying it all together.

“You look…ravishing, sweetheart.” I said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to me. The other hand cupping her cheek and stealing a quick kiss. “You ready to get this show on the road?”

“I was born ready, Munson. Let’s go!”

Classes were monotonous as always, inching along at the absolutely slowest pace they possibly could go. It didn't help that I didn't have any classes with y/n, but soon enough we would be together again, eating lunch surrounded by our friends. Life was good. As good as it could be when I was a couple classes away from having to repeat a year. That was next on the list, and I was gonna work hard to get my grades up. Now I had a real reason to. I didn't want to be stuck behind while y/n went out into the real world, went to college. I wanted to be with her as much as I possibly could.

I walked from my last class hurriedly to the cafeteria, grabbing what was supposed to be a hamburger and a couple helpings of french fries. It helped that I was nice to the lunch ladies, they were more than happy to sneak me extra. It also didn't hurt that they thought Wayne was handsome. I swiped a milk carton out of the refrigerator unit and headed to the table. There she was, all smiles as she chatted to Gareth about the book report they just got assigned. She was just such a ray of light.

"Well, well, well. Look at this table of scholars." Everyone chuckled as you settled in, immediately tucking into your fries. "Don't know if you guys are ready for today." I warned, raising my eyebrows as I shoved another couple of fries into my mouth. "Big things on the agenda."

I made eye contact with y/n, and she lit up, her lips parting to expose those beautiful pearly whites. Seriously. What did she see in a guy like me? What on Earth could this literal angel be doing dating such a freak? 

Lunch time came and went, and so did the next few classes. I asked my last period if I could duck out a few minutes early, and since it was one of the few classes I was passing, they let me go. I decided to sneak around campus, plucking a few flowers here and there until I came up with something that looked like a bouquet. I took a piece of flannel in my hands and ripped it off of the shirt, trying to tie the nicest bow I could. Truth be told, it looked awful. It looked pretty white trash. But I guess that was on brand.

I headed inside, going to the theater to help get everything set up. I hid the bouquet out of sight, and begin laying out the table we'd be playing on. Y/N walked in, backpack slung over one shoulder and a coke can in her other hand. She walked up to me and planted a kiss on my cheek, setting her bag down and starting to help me with all of the minute details. As we got close to finishing, everyone else started slowly filtering in. I wasn't sure how we would tell everyone, but I figured we could just pull the band aid off as we started.

"Welcome to Hellfire." I said, a smile slowly inching across my face, looking out at all of my friends. But before I could say anything else, y/n stood and threw her arms outward in what felt like a very Munson-esque way.

"I have an announcement, before we start." She began, walking around the table, her hand running along the shoulders of each and every participant in our weekly game. "There's been a shift. Your fearless leader, the Eddie Munson, well, I'm here to tell you that he is now spoken for."

Everyone oohed and aahed, looking at me with curious eyes. "It's true." I agreed, nodding my head, my eyes looking down at the board, and then back up at everyone.

"Who you might ask? Who might just be crazy enough to try to tame the beast?" She continued, as she slowly walked over to me. I turned toward her as she arrived at my side, and she threw her arms around my neck and smiled so sweetly. Again with that smile. I would do absolutely anything to see it. And she laid one on me good, kissed me like there was no one else in the room. Hell, for a minute I even forgot anyone else was there. 

As we pulled away, the hoops and the hollers started, and she couldn't hold back her giggles. "Me. It's me. I'm Eddie Munson's girlfriend." And she grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. Somehow she could sense that I was a little nervous. Not about us, but how people might react.

"Is this supposed to be a surprise?" Dustin asked, and I chuckled, shaking my head.  "Guess not, Henderson." "I mean, did you guys not realize how obvious it was?"

I could feel my cheeks get hot, knowing full well he was right. I know I hadn't really always done the best job at hiding it. All the affectionate things I would do, the pet names I'd call her. Yeah, I guess Dustin was right. It was like Billy Joel saying he enjoyed the piano, or that Metallica had an interest in rock music. It was kind of an understatement.

"We're happy you guys finally figured that one out, it was starting to get painful to watch." Erica said, and the rest of the group chuckled amongst themselves. 

"Alright, alright. You guys ready to get started?" I said, grinning as I opened up the book and took my place on the throne.

Group seemed to speed right past, and before I knew it, I was walking back to the car with my arms full, shoving everything into the back of the van. 

“Where to now, my dear?” I felt y/n wrap her arms around me from behind, her head resting against my back. 

“I was thinking, my place? I can order some chinese food.” I told her, reaching into the box and pulling out the bouquet I’d made earlier. I turned around to face her, my heart starting to beat a bit faster. 

“This is for you.” I was so nervous to see how she’d react, and it hit me in that moment that I didn’t even know if she liked flowers. What if she was allergic? I mean, I was trying to be cute and romantic but at what cost?

I watched her jaw drop, and she grabbed the flowers with both of her hands. She clutched it to her chest and wait, was that a tear? “Eddie...” I bit my lip, absolutely frozen in place until I knew she loved it. “This is the most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me. These are beautiful! Is this...is this from your flannel?” I watched her eyes find the frayed hem, and I smirked even wider.

“You caught me.” “Let’s get out of here, Munson.” She said, as she stood up on her tip toes to kiss me, her hand on the back of my head pulling me closer. I wrapped my arms around her and picked her up, her legs wrapping around me and my hands finding their places on each ass cheek. 

“Your chariot awaits.” I murmured as our lips broke apart, my heart beating hard in my chest, my stomach doing backflips. I carried her to the passenger side and pulled the door open, begrudgingly setting her back down on her feet. She would be the death of me. 

I wanted her so badly, but I was letting her lead the way. I had waited all this time just to be with her, I wasn’t going to fuck it up by letting my dick do all the thinking. 

We drove back to the trailer, the music low as I listened to her talk about her day. The moments where we were apart, but it was as if she remembered every single detail just so she could share it with me. My heart could have exploded. There was a lull in her story as I parked, and I turned the car off. I reached over, pulling her hand up to my mouth and kissing her palm.  “I love you, y/n. I’m crazy about you. You know that right?” “I had a feeling.” I saw the corners of her mouth turn upwards, and she turned her head to look at me.  “I love you, Eddie. I’m so happy I can finally say that out loud.”  There was no sign of Wayne’s car, so he must have already left for work. We walked in, urging y/n to walk in ahead. I locked the door behind me, throwing my keys into the dish Wayne had just gotten. I was always losing my keys and he was tired of hearing about it. I rifled through the mail, ripping up the few pieces we’d gotten and tossed them in the trash. It was all just junk anyway.

“Eddie?” I heard her call from my bedroom, and I started in her direction, yanking my jacket off at the same time. I got to the doorway, but that’s where I stopped. She stood in front of me, clothes nowhere to be found, just a matching red lace bra and panties set adoring her body. 

“Uh wha- uh, is this for me?” “Suuuuurprise.”

I was stuck, I couldn’t move an inch. My dick on the other hand, it had a mind of it’s own.  “You look..you...oh my god. You’re so beautiful.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, and she slowly strutted over to me. She put both hands on my chest, looking up into my eyes with what I can only describe as a sinful expression.  “Please, Eddie. I want you. I want you so bad. I’ve waited so long.”

That’s it. I’m dead. This must be heaven. There’s no way this is real. 

But it was. And it was about to happen.

[lfthinkerwrites]

If I may make a request 🧐

Could you make an alternative version of your small lingerie fic where they hide from gordon until he leaves and eddie doesn't get taken in could be smut could just be bruce being a flustered mess

Here you are, you filthy bastards. Light smut and Bruce being a mess ahead.

"Riddle me this," Nashton purrs. "Is that a Batarang in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" Bruce stands still, not sure whether to punch him, push him, or...something else.

(In another world, Gordon arrives at the rooftop, Nashton is taken into custody, and Bruce locks himself into his room, Nirvana at full volume, trying to forget that any of this ever happened. In this world, Bruce is slightly swifter on the uptake.)

Bruce snapped his attention to the still-lit Batsignal. Gordon will be any minute. He can stop this, subdue Nashton (on his knees), get him out of that get-up and-no. No. This is a serial killer. He killed the mayor, Pete Savage, Gil Colson, countless people in the flood, Alfred almost, there is nothing Bruce could ever want from this man, would ever want from this man-

He heard the sound of a throat clearing and saw that Nashton had pulled a small bottle out of one cup of the bra and a packet of condoms out of the other. "I came prepared," he said brightly.

Bruce had to take a step back at how forward the man was. Then he glared, trying to take back control of the situation. "You really are delusional if you think that's going to happen."

Nashton just smirked. "Oh, if you had any intention of rejecting me, you would have by now." Nashton placed his items back into the bra, which Bruce did NOT watch him do, and traced his fingers against Bruce's chest. "You're letting me touch you," Nashton continued. "If you wanted to hit me, you would. But you won't. You're hesitating because you want this as much as I do. You just needed a little more time to accept it."

When was the last time someone had touched him? Selina? Selina's gone though, and Nashton is right here, and he's soft, and he's willing, he's desperate, and the dam broke. Bruce roughly grabbed both of Nashton's hands and dragged him towards the edge of the roof, towards the shadows, and pressed him up against a support beam of the building, both hands pinned above his head. He looked into Nashton's expectant, flushed face and hesitated. "What am I going to do with you?" he murmured.

Nashton let out a small moan, one that goes straight to Bruce's cock. Bruce looked down and saw that Nashton was already erect. "Oh," he laughed. "I think you know exactly what you're going to do to me."

Before he could think of just how bad an idea this was, Bruce surged forward, pressing his mouth hard against Nashton's. For someone who came to a rooftop dressed in lingerie, Nashton's a sloppy kisser, sloppy like the virgin he probably was. The thought of that makes Bruce harder and he dropped one hand to pull down Nashton's panties, which judging by the groan the other man let out, was greatly appreciated. Bruce moved his lips to Nashton's neck, biting hard at the same time he began to stroke the other man's cock. Nashton almost shrieked at the sensation and Bruce let go of his wrists to cover his mouth. What he wouldn't give for some of his duct tape right about now...and that shouldn't arouse Bruce as much as it does.

"Anybody up here?"

Bruce froze mid-stroke. Shit. Gordon. Shit shit shit shit. He heard the man's footsteps on the roof, around the signal, and internally cursed. He should have grabbed Nashton's coat and boots too.

"What the fuck?" he heard Gordon say and he knew he must have found the clothes. Bruce glared at Nashton, only to see that the man only looked irritated at being interrupted.

"Don't make a sound," Bruce hissed, clamping his hand even harder over Nashton's mouth. Nashton's eyes crinkled, and Bruce could tell he was smirking.

"If anyone's here, come on out!" Gordon shouted, his steps coming closer to their hiding spot. Bruce stood still, blocking Nashton from view. How chivalrous, he could just hear Alfred drawl, and oh God, he should not be thinking about Alfred when he's got a nearly naked man pressed against him. He can feel his heart beating in his chest and something else bucking into his upper thigh. It's Nashton, rubbing insistently against him as if he doesn't care that Gordon's less than six feet away and could stumble on them and...wait. Is that a turn-on for him?

Bruce heard a sigh and receding footsteps. "Some dumb kids must have gotten up here again," Gordon muttered. Bruce could see out of the corner of his eye, the lieutenant turning off the signal and retreating to the elevator.

As soon as Gordon's gone, Bruce releases Nashton, and the man lets out a sharp breath. "Well," Nashton said. "That was fun. Now where were we?"

Bruce just stared at him. "What in the fuck is the matter with you?"

Nashton giggled, then pointed downwards. "Same thing that's wrong with you." Bruce followed his gaze down and realized that he was still hard. Nashton giggled again, then pulled the condoms and lube from his bra again. "Well?"

Gordon's arrival should have been a sign that this was a bad idea. It should have been, but Bruce returned his teeth to Nashton's neck and once he remembered how to take off his pants, gave them both what they wanted.

When Nashton is returned to Arkham in a cheap t-shirt and jeans, six hours later, no one commented on the dark bruises on his neck, the fact that he couldn't quite walk straight, or that Batman couldn't meet Gordon's gaze. Or that Nashton's new 'friend' seemed to find the entire thing hilarious.

One thing remains universally consistent. Bruce returns home, turns Nirvana up at full volume, and tries to pretend that the whole thing didn't happen. When he's not contemplating breaking Nashton out again, and bringing duct tape.