#sorry mike crew but youre fucking dead

[funnylittlelad]

Trailer Park Blues - Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader

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summary: You don't think much when you start letting Hellfire use your trailer for their meetings. Dustin asked and you caved, as per usual. What you weren't expecting was the rollercoaster ride that becomes your relationship with your little brother's best friend, Eddie Munson.

wordcount: 15.8k

tags/notes: SMUT (MDNI), gn!reader (nonbinary coded if you squint), reader is Dustin's older sibling, name-calling, degradation, hate fucking i'm ngl it's hate fucking, unprotected sex, power play, mentions of bad past relationships, queer eddie munson, talks about dead parents being dead

You might kill Dustin. The windows of your trailer are illuminated. He told you they’d all be gone by the time you got home from work. As you get closer to the door and hear the excited shouts you know that they’re all still here. You’re tired, you smell, and the last thing you want to do is look at a bunch of high schoolers playing some table top bullshit. 

“Dustin,” you shout as you swing the front door open.

 Everyone at the dining table jumps and snaps to look at you. When you enter your trailer you’re immediately met with a view of the living room to your right and the small kitchen to your left. Your table is in the middle, creating a makeshift dining area turned D&D area. 

The normal crew is there, Mike, Lucas, and Will. There are some new, and semi-new faces. The semi-new face is one you’ve seen, but never spoken to. Eddie Munson, four trailers down, and originally part of your graduating class. 

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of us!” Dustin exclaims, holding his heaving chest.

“You’re not supposed to be here for me to scare the shit out of,” you remind him, the annoyance evident. 

“I know, I’m sorry. We’re almost done, I promise. Can we please just finish?” he pleads with big eyes and a quivering lip. 

This fucking kid knows he has everyone in his life around his damn finger. You’d like to smack him.

“Fine, but you’re explaining to mom why you're not home yet,” you point at him as you speak. 

His face breaks into a smile. 

“You’re the best!”

“Call, now,” you order.

 When Dustin goes to the phone on the wall next to your fridge, you exit to the short hall. The company isn't going to stop you from showering. Eddie is frozen. His eyes follow you as you leave the room, mouth parted slightly. You barged in a little angry and it knocked him through a loop. His poor little bisexual heart felt ready to explode. You must get more shit than he does looking like that. Doesn't matter that you’re stunning, being the picture of androgyny in Hawkins can't be easy. He wants so badly to examine that picture up close and in detail. Dustin was right about one thing. Jesus Christ.

When the kid told Eddie they could use his sibling’s trailer Eddie was surprised to find he lived so close to a Henderson without realizing. Now, he really can't believe it. 

“Okay, let’s finish before I get my ass kicked,” Dustin says as he comes back to the table. 

Eddie snaps out of the trance he fell into.

“Uh-we can call it here,” Eddie says, sounding far away.

 The rest of the table balks at him.

“You’re calling the campaign early?” Dustin questions.

“When I asked if we could cut last week's campaign short you said you would strangle me with your bare hands,” Mike adds in disbelief. 

“We’re in the middle of a fight,” Will protests. 

The rest of the table starts voicing their own arguments creating a cacophony of disgruntled nerds. 

“Okay, okay,” Eddie gets loud to quiet down the table, “Dustin’s next in initiative.” 

The boys cheer triumphantly causing Eddie to smile. If his eyes keep darting to where you disappeared down the hall… Well, that’s his business. Your trailer is close to his in layout, but it’s much more well-kempt and put together. Makes sense since you live here alone and two grown men live in Eddie’s. 

When you reappear, toweling off your hair, they’re wrapping up. Your sweatpants that sit just below your belly button and short cropped shirt don't go unnoticed by Eddie. His eyes glide over your midriff and the soft dark hair that it's home to. It seems no matter what you’re in you remain more androgynous than Boy George.

 A trait that absolutely entices the queer disaster that is Eddie Munson. Dustin only ever uses sibling to talk about you. He doesn't use any language that would give any more away than your appearance does. It doesn't matter anyways, Eddie is infatuated regardless. Maybe even partially because of. 

The boys all throw you a goodbye as they exit until only Dustin and Eddie are left. Dustin is cleaning up any dishes or garbage left behind while Eddie packs up all the D&D materials. You didn't realize how much goes into this table top bullshit. Eddie has books, binders, and notebooks worth of information and ideas. There's stats and prices of various items on the screen he puts up so no one can peek at his notes. Then there's the velvet drawstring bag of different shaped dice. Shapes you’ve never even seen dice come in before. 

“How long were you guys playing for?” you ask the two of them from where you lean against the counter. 

You don't know what time they got started, just that they were supposed to be gone when you got home.

“Six hours,” Dustin says sheepishly.

“Six hours?” 

“It took longer than expected,” he shrugs with an apologetic smile.

You chuckle and shake your head. Your eyes flicker over to Eddie, catching him staring at you with wide dark eyes. Once your gaze meets his he looks down and hurries to finish packing up. You choose to disregard it. Eddie Munson can eat dirt if he thinks he's in any position to judge you. If only you knew he wasn't judging you, he was admiring you.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to just spend the night? I don't like the idea of you biking home when it's this dark out,” you say to Dustin softly. 

You don't have a car of your own to drive him. Since everything that happened with Will… Yeah, he’s definitely not biking home alone at night. 

“I can bring him,” Eddie offers as he zips up his bag.

“You can bring him?” You question thinking about the death trap of a van you’ve seen him drive. 

Somehow, that feels even worse. 

“Yeah, I can bring him,” he repeats and finally meets your eyes again.

 He sees the distrust, the anxiety. It hits him in the gut. 

“That’s okay, he can just spend the night,” you refuse him politely. 

“How d’you think he got here in the first place?” Eddie asks with raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

 Your nostrils flare a little at the smugness.

“Then I should consider myself lucky he’s still in one piece,” you shoot back. 

Eddie dramatically grabs his stomach and doubles over with a grunt as if he has just been punched.

“You hurt me, Henderson,” he huffs as he looks up at you from his bent state. 

A smile grows on his face when he sees you fighting off your own. 

“Hello, I’m right here, y’know,” Dustin looks between the two of you exasperatedly, “I can go with Eddie.”

“Dust-”

“I can go with Eddie,” he cuts you off to repeat himself. 

You exhale sharply through your nose. The two of you glare at each other for a moment. You still lean against the counter while Dustin stands beside the table. Eddie watches from where he stands on the opposite side of the table. Then your smoldering gaze turns to Eddie, stopping his breathing.

“Do the speed limit,” your voice is even, but so stern that all Eddie can do is nod. 

He swallows the lump that forms in his throat as a result.

“Cross my heart,” he uses his pointer finger to draw an X over his heart. 

Dustin hugs you goodbye. You make him promise to call tomorrow. Eddie gives you one last wide eyed look, a small smile plays on his lips. Then you’re finally alone. You love having Dustin over, but you’re also glad to have peace and quiet. 

You moved out a few short months after graduation. Your overbearing mother proved too much to continue living with. Dustin was pissed at first. He came around when he realized it meant having a space to escape to and be himself. Something you're more than happy to provide for him. 

He was thrilled to learn that Eddie lives only four trailers away from you. When Dustin asked if Hellfire could meet at your place to continue a campaign they had started you agreed for this one time. Even when you said it, you had a feeling Dustin will end up begging for 

more and you’ll end up caving. The kid really does have everyone wrapped around his finger. Eddie included it seems.

“So, are they always so…,” Eddie struggles to finish his question as he drives through Hawkins. 

Hot, breathtaking, pulse pounding, awestriking. He can't really say any of that to Dustin. 

“Protective?” Dustin offers.

“Protective works,” Eddie nods. 

Not exactly what he was thinking, but that applies too.

“Pretty much.” 

“How long have they lived in Forest Hills?” He tries to keep his tone casual, but ends up sounding just a little too interested. 

He can feel Dustin’s eyes burning into the side of his head. 

“Year and a half,” Dustin answers.

“So they're… nineteen?”

“Twenty.” 

Eddie glances over at Dustin. He looks one part irritated and two parts suspicious. Eddie adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. 

“Wait, we were in the same grade?” Eddie asks, surprised.

“You were supposed to be,” Dustin ribs. 

“You wanna walk from here, Henderson?”

“You wanna get murdered?” 

Eddie shoots him a glare knowing he’s right. His threat is hollow with you around. If you found out he let Dustin walk halfway home he’s sure he wouldn't see morning. 

“Why are you asking?” Dustin inquired after a moment of silence. Eddie shrugs.

“Just curious.”

“Uh-huh,” Dustin sounds entirely unconvinced.

“Whatever,” Eddie mutters to himself. He pushes you out of his mind and focuses on driving. 

He can feel Dustin’s occasional glances. The younger Henderson has clocked his strange demeanor, he knows it. It’s not hard. He isn't as goofy or teasing. He’s more lost in thought than he'd like. He just doesn't know how he's never noticed you before. How has he never noticed the one person in Hawkins that seems to tick every single fucking box he could possibly have? 

***

The next time Eddie sees you it’s raining. The weather is only noteable because he sees you walking home with no umbrella. He catches you as you make it under the awning of the movie theater. It gives you temporary shelter from the pounding of the rain. Eddie pulls over to the curb in front of you. He had been going to the store to grab some munchies, but that’s something he can do later. 

You eye his van curiously. He doesn’t bother with his hazards. Cars go around him without issue. He leans over and cranks the window down.

“You need a ride?” he calls out.

“I’m good, thanks,” you call back.

“Seriously? You’ll catch your death walking all the way to Forest Hills in this. Just get in.”

You sigh, but do as he says. It's not like you want to walk in the rain. Keeping a distance from Eddie just felt like the right thing to do. He gives you a feeling in your gut you can't quite place. He always has. Is it possible to admire someone and not like them?

“Thanks,” you say as you close the door. 

You’re shivering as you drip on his seat.

“Yeah, no problem,” Eddie says as he blasts the heat. 

His typically loud music is soft as he drives. Something you appreciate. Work was a headache. Having to walk home in the rain was a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass Eddie has luckily saved you from.

“Where d’you work, anyways?” he asks after a few minutes.

“I’m a manager over at the general store.”

“Shit, really? I steal-I mean I-uh go there all the time,” Eddie doesn’t course correct quite fast enough. 

To his surprise, you laugh. It’s a nice sound. Calming like the rain is when you aren't stranded in it.

“I’ll remember that next time I see you in there.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that. Eddie is actually a better driver than you assumed. It makes you feel a little better about Dustin driving around with him. You don't even notice you've stopped shivering. The van is warming you up, but you’re still soaked. 

“Sorry about your seats, by the way,” you say.

“Eh, it’s just some water. These seats have seen worse,” he shrugs.

You grimace in disgust.

“Like what?” 

Eddie lets out a hearty laugh.

“Probably better you don’t know.”

“Jesus, you’re nasty, Munson,” your laughter betrays you. 

“Oh, you have no idea, Henderson.”

Another round of comfortable silence as Forest Hills comes into view. You expect Eddie to park at his trailer. You don't mind walking the short distance to your own. Instead he pulls right up to your door. 

“Seriously thank you, Eddie,” you give him a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. If- y'know, if you need a ride again you can give me a call.”

“Sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to give me your phone number,” you tease.

Eddie chuckles.

“Two birds, one stone,” he smiles.

“You’ll need to try harder than that, Munson. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” You flash him a smile and then you’re gone.

Only the wet imprint of your ass lets him know you were ever really there in the first place.

***

“Please,” Dustin pleads over the phone. You sigh.

“Dustin, it’s my day off. I don't want to sit here and listen to you guys for six hours,” you tell him.

“We’ll only be an hour, two tops.”

“Dustin-”

“I can stay over after and we can hang out. We’ll watch E.T.,” he sweetens the pot. 

He knows that's your favorite movie and he knows you’re a sucker for quality time with him. Little asshole.

“Fine, but you only get two hours before I kick everyone out.”

“Three?”

“Two and a half.”

“Thank you, you're the best, bye!” he hangs up before you have a chance to change your mind. You chuckle and shake your head.

Two and a half hours stuck in your room isn't too bad. Besides, you’re not really stuck. You just don't want to get in the way, or listen on in utter confusion. You know a little about D&D from Dustin talking about it, but not enough to follow. Sure you’ll pop out to grab a drink, maybe something to eat, but overall you intend to stay removed. 

Part of you wants to stay away from Eddie. You know he’ll just start flirting and you'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to resist giving it right back to him. It shouldn't surprise you when Eddie is the first to show an hour later, but it does. He gives a quick rhythmic knock on your door. 

“I'm surprised you made it so early. I know the commute is killer,” you quip when you see him standing outside the screen door. 

With a grin, Eddie braces his lower back beneath his old bookbag and leans into his hands a bit to dramatize discomfort.

“Yeah, my back is killing me from the long drive over,” he makes a face as he jokes to drive it home. 

You chuckle and push the screen door open to let him in.

“Dustin isn't here yet,” you tell him as he enters.

 He pauses just inside the doorway leaving him so close to you his body heat reaches the skin of your arms.

“I can come back,” he says and begins to turn.

“No, it's alright. He should be here soon. I’m assuming you need to get set up or something?” you tilt your head toward the cleared off dining table. He nods and you hold your arm out to tell him he’s welcome to continue inside. 

You watch him make his way to the table. Something about the way he’s joking back with you makes you wonder if you had things wrong. Maybe he wasn't flirting in the van the other day. Maybe it was just friendly banter. 

“Thanks for letting us play here. We usually use the drama room, but they’ve needed it more with that stupid musical coming up,” Eddie says as he opens his bag and begins to pull things out.

“Let me guess, Grease?” you shut the door and find your place on the couch.

 Eddie glances at you with an amused smirk.

“Sure is.”

“Figures. Thank God Dustin isn't a theater kid. I don't think I could sit through that every year,” you chuckle.

 Eddie’s smile is curious, maybe even a bit nervous. You're watching him and it makes his movements just a little less sure. 

“Instead you get a bunch'a freaks playing D&D at your table.”

“You calling my brother a freak, Munson?” There’s an edge to your words. 

Eddie’s eyes get wide.

“Uh- no, I-”

“I’m just kidding, calm down,” you laugh, “it’s okay, he is a freak. Besides, I don't think you’d ever be mean to Dustin.”

“Why’s that?”

“He worships the ground you walk on. If you were ever mean to him your uncle would need to pull dental records to identify you,” you say it light heartedly with a smile.

 Your voice and expression don't match the vicious threat. Eddie’s heart thumps hard as he spreads out the battle map.

“You’re a little scary, y’know that?”

“How else am I supposed to keep you in line?” 

Heat crawls up Eddie’s neck. His throat dries and he clumsily knocks into his DM screen. It clatters flat onto the table. You watch on in amusement as he fumbles with it. He’s flustered. A fact that goes straight to your ego. Eddie is Dustin’s friend so you had no plans to actually be mean or rude to him. Admittedly, your brother is pretty good at picking people. Even if others don't see what he does in those people. 

Is flustering Eddie by accident mean or rude? Is continuing to do it because you like that you can? 

“How is it I’ve never seen you around before?” Eddie asks once the DM screen is back up the way he wants it. 

“You have, you just never noticed,” you shrug.

“Trust me, I would have noticed you,” he glances at you as he says it. 

When he sees your attention is already on him, he quickly moves on to digging out the miniatures he brought. 

“Trust me, you wouldn't have. I haven't always been this comfortable dressing and existing how I want. Not everyone can be Eddie Munson,” you give him a small smile.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he pauses setting up to look at you. 

He half expects insults to start being hurled at him.

“You’ve always been yourself. Even when it would be easier to be someone else. I’ve always admired that about you. It took me a long time to be that brave,” you answer genuinely. 

His face reddens and his eyes nearly strike you down where you sit. They’re big, as always, and the distinct brown of them swims in an emotion you can't place. Eddie’s heart is in his throat. He knows he’s attracted to you physically, but you might have just sunk a hook in him emotionally. Whether you meant to or not, you nearly destroyed him with your words. He can't remember the last time someone has said such nice things to his face. 

“Always, huh? You been watching me, Henderson?” he bounces back, diffusing his own feelings with the joke. 

You shrug with an innocent smile.

“You make it hard not to.”

Eddie’s face somehow gets even hotter. He might need to peel off his jacket if this keeps up. As he struggles to come up with a response to that, Dustin bursts in. The large smile on his face drops when he sees the flustered state of Eddie. His eyes travel back and forth between the two of you.

“What’s happening?” he asks

“Just getting to know your friend,” you shrug casually. 

Traces of that smile can still be found on your face. That's when Eddie knows you’re doing it on purpose. You saw how flustered you made him and decided to keep going. He’s not sure if he hates you or just fell in love with you. 

“Right,” Dustin says, completely unconvinced. 

“Okay, well, I’ll make myself scarce before the rest of the nerds get here. Remember, two and a half hours, Dustin,” you point at him as you rise from the couch. 

“I know, I know.”

Eddie watches you disappear down the hall. His eyes stay on the beginning of the hallway until he hears your bedroom door click shut. Then he finally looks at the boy in front of him. Dustin has narrowed eyes on Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asks defensively and continues emptying his bag. 

“You tell me,” Dustin crosses his arms.

“I don't know what you mean,” Eddie lies as he spreads out his reference materials and notes behind the screen.

“Bullshit.”

“We were just talking.”

Before Dustin can pry further the rest of the boys start piling in. Mike, Lucas, and Will are confident just walking in like they live there. Jeff and Gareth follow with more hesitation. Eddie happily dives in once everyone is settled at the table. Happy to continue the campaign and happy to avoid talking about you further with Dustin. He’s not sure how the younger Henderson will take his burgeoning crush. 

Around thirty minutes into their gameplay you appear for a drink. You notice immediately that Eddie becomes distracted when you pop into the kitchen. Eddie’s eyes track you the entire way as the others discuss their next move. You catch his gaze when you turn around from the fridge. Before he can try to act like he wasn't staring, you smirk. Then you’re taking a nice long drink from your can of coke. Eddie swallows, watching you, Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to regain the ability to speak. 

“Eddie,” Dustin waves his hand in front of Eddie’s eyes.

 Eddie blinks back into the game, feeling like he traveled a million light years and back. Dustin glances over his shoulder to where Eddie had been zoned off staring. You give your brother a small wave when he sees you. His eyebrows furrowed as he looks back to Eddie who is trying desperately to get back on track. Eddie hazards one more quick look at you. You throw him a wink as you make your exit. On their way back to the table in front of him, his eyes meet Dustin’s.

“What the hell was that?” Dustin questions.

“That was Mike getting knocked prone,” Eddie answers and reaches over his screen to knock Mike’s miniature on its side. 

“You’re deflecting,” Mike says smugly, happy to have some retribution for the hit Eddie’s NPC made on his character. 

“Uh, no, I’m DM-ing,” he makes a sweeping gesture to the layout in front of him.

“Holy shit, Eddie has a crush,” Lucas realizes out loud. 

Dustin groans.

“Are we gonna have to stop playing here?” Will asks genuinely.

 Will is the only one Eddie can consider innocent here. The rest of them earn a glare. 

“I don't know, Eddie, will we?” Dustin sasses with a pointed look at Eddie.

“No, we won't. We only have a couple hours here, can we get back to the fucking game?” Eddie snaps them back into focus. 

An hour goes by and you’re back. This time Eddie is able to drag his gaze away from where you’re digging around in a cabinet. You have to reach up in a way that exposes the skin of your stomach. A silky stripe of skin and some tufts of dark hair between your too small shirt and sweatpants. 

Instead of allowing himself to get distracted by you again, he starts putting on more of a show. His movements become more dramatic, he throws himself more fully into the voices he’s doing, and overall amping up the theatrics. He figures if you admire him always being himself, he'll dial himself up to ten. 

You find yourself leaning against the counter with a bag of chips in your hand watching. No one else seems to have noticed your arrival. They’re too taken in by the narrative Eddie is weaving. You can't blame them. Eddie puts his full body into it. After a couple minutes he lets the group deliberate their next move. His eyes flicker over to you again, a smirk on his face. The eye contact jolts you from whatever weird fog you’d fallen into watching him. As you make your leave you see the quick wink Eddie tosses your way. 

Your heart is loud in your ears when you shut your door. Oh, it’s on, Munson, you think to yourself. If there's one thing you are, it's competitive. It’s clear you fluster Eddie, which means there’s some type of attraction there. Truthfully, you’re attracted to him too. You always have been. His authenticity and ability to stay true to himself have always drawn you in. Now that you can tell he’s into this too, you’re ready to have fun with it. The two of you have officially entered a little game and you refuse to lose.

 An old pair of shorts is your next move. They’re Hawkins High green with white trim and stripes up the side of each leg. They’re long enough to cover everything, but short enough to draw attention. You give it another fifteen minutes before re-emerging. When you do so you fan yourself with your hand to pretend your room is hot. Without looking to see if Eddie has noticed you bend at the hips to start peering in the fridge. You look innocuous enough searching for a water bottle to cool down. Then you hear a clattering, a few shouts, and fumbling.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. 

You turn around with a water bottle pressed to your forehead. Everyone, but Eddie, is frantically looking for something on the floor. A small red pointy looking die sits in front of you on the linoleum, a black number twenty facing up. You pluck it off the floor and hold it up lazily. 

“You guys looking for this?” you ask. A couple of them hit their heads on the table on their way up. 

When they see the D20 between your fingers they swarm you. Suddenly you’re trapped against the fridge by several manic nerds. Dustin grabs the sides of your upper arms. 

“Did you see what it landed on?” He all but demands. 

You shove him off and push through them. Eddie remains seated at the table watching with huge eyes. 

“First off, whose is it?” you ask.

“Mine,” Eddie’s voice wavers just a bit on the single syllable. 

With a bright smile you walk it over to him. He looks up at you when you’re next to the table, face getting more and more red. You place the D20 down in front of him, black twenty still up. His mouth parts slightly as if to say something, but nothing comes out. You have him all lined up where you want him. Now, you just have to make the goal by brandishing some of the only D&D knowledge Dustin has imparted on you.

“Natural twenty,” you say, your smile curling into something more mischievous, “Congrats on the crit.”

Eddie continues blinking his wide dark eyes at you. The rest of the boys groan behind you. Whatever Eddie just rolled for clearly isn't good for them. They all take their seats again. 

“You couldn't have lied?” Dustin huffs comically.

“And rob your DM of his roll? Never,” you chuckle. 

You lift his hat, ruffle his hair, and walk off. Eddie gapes after you, heart absolutely pounding. He won't be able to stand the rest of the game. His jeans got a little tighter when he saw you bent over in those fucking shorts, distracting him mid roll. It only got worse when you walked over his D20, looked down at him like you know the hold you have, and congratulated him on his nat twenty.  

“I think he’s drooling,” Mike’s voice pulls Eddie back to the table.

“He’s speechless,” Gareth adds.

“I’m not speechless. I'm contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?” Lucas questions unconvinced.

“How exactly I want this nat twenty to fuck up your day.”

You don't make another appearance until their time is up. By the time you make it out there it's just Dustin and Eddie. Dustin is on his knees in the living room looking through the different VHS tapes you have in a milk crate. Eddie is packing away all his stuff neatly. 

“How’d it go?” you ask them as you plop down onto your couch. 

Dustin launches into an excited and detailed account of the game. Eddie expects you to tell him to calm down, that you don't need a play by play of every second. You don't. Instead you listen encouragingly, ask questions for clarification, and let Dustin rattle on. 

“Sounds like you did a good job with this one, Dungeon Master,” you say to Eddie with a smile. 

His heart skips. 

“Even I have my days,” he shoots you a smile in return as he zips up his bag. 

“Yeah? Maybe one of these days you’ll be able to keep your dice on the table,” you tease. 

Dustin watches the two of you and it clicks. At first he thought Eddie was just taking a morbid interest. You’ve had plenty of that. Guys in Hawkins like experimenting, toeing the line you ride between genders, and then denying anything ever happened when they come to their senses. He didn't want to think Eddie would be like that, but as protective as you are of Dustin he is of you. The way you prop your chin on your hand and lean on the arm of the couch toward Eddie finally clues Dustin in. You're into Eddie too. 

“Eddie, you should stay and watch E.T. with us,” Dustin interjects. 

Your eyes dart to him curiously. 

“I promised Wayne I'd be home by eight. Next time, alright?” Eddie swings his bag over his shoulder. 

Dustin is disappointed, but doesn't put up a fight. Eddie knew he wouldn't last through a movie with you. Not if earlier was any indication of what you’re capable of doing to him. Not with Dustin around. As disappointed as you might be, you’re also relieved. If Eddie sat next to you the movie would have been forgotten immediately. You and Dustin bid Eddie farewell and start the movie.

Dustin is knocked out on the couch by the end of it. You throw the soft blanket you keep in the living room over him. It’s too early for you to be tired. You take to cleaning up a little, grabbing what Dustin missed when cleaning up after the campaign. When you go to toss the little bits of trash in the garbage can you find it full. You roll your eyes knowing full well Dustin left it like this for you when he could have taken it out. 

The outside air nips at your exposed legs. It’s a short walk to the dumpster, but in the dark it can be creepy. Forest Hills isn't the most lit up place at night. You hurry to toss the bag into the dumpster.

“Come here often?”

The voice startles you. You whip around with a small yelp. Eddie stands before you with a garbage bag in his hand and a teasing smirk on his face. When you realize it's him you recover quickly.

“Only when I’m hoping to see you,” you tease as you step out of his way. He tosses his own bag in the dumpster and turns to face you.

“You callin’ me trash, Henderson?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I didn't say that, but if that's what you took from it…” you smile playfully. 

He shakes his head chuckling.

“You're kinda mean,” Eddie points at you as he says it. 

“Am I?” You ask, taking a step forward. 

There's a foot of space between you and Eddie. You can see his breathing stutter in his chest. 

“Yeah, but I like it,” he admits quietly, heart pounding. 

You smile and take another step forward. You’re fully in Eddie’s space now. He can't even tell if he’s still breathing. You’re still in those fucking shorts, you're openly flirting with him, and you’re so god damn close. He might just die on the spot.

“Do you?” You're torturing him now.

 He knows it. You know it.

“Now you’re just tryna get me to say nice things about you,” he teases with a smirk. 

How he’s maintaining any amount of composure is beyond him. Maybe God is real and right now Eddie is His favorite little soldier.

“Is that so hard?”

“No, not when you're wearing those.”

He nods down to your shorts. You laugh, placing a hand on the breast of his jean vest over his leather jacket. 

“I thought you’d like’em.”

“You were right.”

“I’m glad I dug them out for you then,” you smirk, toying with one of the many pins on his vest. 

“You- for me?” Eddie sputters not expecting the bold statement.

 Light teasing and flirting, sure, but not that.

“You’re really surprised?” you chuckle.

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs lamely. His composure is quickly slipping.

“Then you haven't been paying attention very well,” you chide playfully. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes. 

Before you can say another word, Eddie breaks. He grabs the sides of your face and crashes his lips into yours. You grasp onto the denim of his vest as you melt into it. His lips are warm, urgent, and a little sloppy with desperation. The kiss sends a thrill through your entire body. It’s only when he pulls away that you remember where you are. Outside at night kissing Eddie Munson next to the fucking dumpster. Are you sixteen again? 

You just look into each other's eyes for a second. Eddie’s face is still just inches away from yours. His pupils are blown to shit and you're sure yours are too. You drag him forward again by the grip on his vest. This time your other hand finds a home in his coarse wavy to curly hair. He moans into your mouth as your hold on his hair tightens. You give a surprised groan when his hand grabs your ass. He rides the shorts up just enough for him to brush against the skin they once covered. 

It takes an extreme amount of effort to pull away. Somehow, you manage. Both of you are breathing heavily. After a second of just studying each other's face, you shake your head with a smile.

“I better get going before I try to jump your bones in the dumpster,” you say, but don't move. 

“Maybe you can jump my bones another time,” Eddie suggests with a smile. 

You chuckle.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Aren't you eager,” you tease.

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess not.”

He gives you an expectant stare. You pretend to think his offer over. 

“Okay, tomorrow. Dustin should be gone by one,” you nod. 

Eddie fights off a groan. He forgot about the Dustin of it all. Maybe this isn't a good idea. Maybe he should call the whole thing off. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says instead. 

“I look forward to it,” you smile and leave him.

 He watches you walk back to your trailer. Without you pressed against him, he’s suddenly cold. He jogs back to his own trailer still in disbelief. His thoughts are spinning. One thing is for sure, his dreams are going to be full of you tonight.

***

Eddie’s fist hovers by the door for a second. This is his last chance to back out. It’s his last chance to turn around and avoid any awkward confrontation with Dustin later. Eddie cares about that kid’s opinion of him far too much. Once he has the thought to leave, he gives a quick rhythmic knock. 

“Eddie?” Dustin questions when he opens the door, “What are you doing here?” 

Eddie struggles for something to say. Dustin is supposed to be gone. 

“Oh, Eddie left his dice. I gave him a call last night,” your voice calls from deeper in the trailer. 

The lie is easy and smooth.

“So, you gonna let me in or what?” Eddie jerks his chin up at Dustin. 

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his vest. The left one is wrapped around the condom he brought just in case you didn't have any. He’s almost afraid if he lets go it’ll fall out and Dustin will have more questions. 

Dustin pushes the screen door open to let Eddie in. When he enters he sees you standing over the kitchen sink. You shoot him an apologetic look over your shoulder. He returns it with a small understanding smile. Clearly, you hadn't planned on Dustin still being here either. You turn off the water, dry your hands on a nearby towel, and face him from the kitchen.

“I have the dice in my room,” you tilt your head toward the hallway. 

You lead Eddie to your bedroom. It’s at the end of the short hall, similar to his own. An unmade full bed is pushed into the far corner under the singular window. A dresser sits in the opposite corner with a couple framed pictures on top and what looks like a small silver urn. The wall behind your bed is adorned with an intricate forest green tapestry with the tree of life on it. 

“I’m so sorry,” you begin in a hushed voice.

“S’alright,” Eddie assures you.

“He decided to stay and I couldn't exactly tell him no,” you explain anxiously.

“It’s really alright, Henderson,” he gives you a reassuring smile. 

Your heart skips a beat. Part of you feared he’d be pissed. There have been plenty of guys in the past whose tempers were as short as their sexuality was confusing. Eddie notices the way you relax when you accept his words.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang out as long as you’d like,” you tell him.

“Maybe I should go. This probably wasn't a good idea anyway,” he says with a quick look over his shoulder. 

Dustin is still in the living room, Eddie can hear the tv. When his eyes turn back to you, your whole demeanor has changed. Your face is suddenly unreadable. Your stance is closed off. 

“Yeah, maybe you're right,” your voice is cold.

 Eddie starts internally panicking. Clearly he said the wrong thing, but he doesn't know what. 

“It’s not you,” he rushes to explain, “it’s Dustin.”

You roll your eyes.

“Don't use my brother as an excuse for whatever sexuality struggle you're having,” you whisper harshly.

Eddie’s hands find either side of his head. His fingers sink into his hair as he tries to understand how this situation turned on him. 

“I’m not having a sexuality struggle,” he argues, frustration beginning to bubble up.

“Whatever, Eddie. I’ve been through this too many times.”

“Through what? You're not actually fucking talking to me. Just talk to me,” he gestured wildly in the air, shaking his hands in a pleading motion. 

“Through assholes chatting me up, making me feel special, like maybe someone actually fucking likes me. Only to find out I was nothing but a novelty. I don't know why I thought you could be any different,” you explain bitterly with a shake of your head.

Eddie runs a hand over his face as he processes. Your words sting. They burn tiny lacerations into his skin. I don't know why I thought you could be any different. He never thought he'd be compared to the rest of Hawkins, always an outlier. You’re grouping him in with probably the worst Hawkins has to offer. Now that really fucking hurts.

“I do actually fucking like you. Why can't you get it's more complicated than that?” 

“Oh, I get it. You can't figure out what you’re feeling and you’re afraid it’ll make you gay. So, test it out with me and then move the fuck on like nothing ever happened,” you say while crossing your arms. You fold in on yourself, becoming smaller and smaller before Eddie’s eyes.

“I am gay-I mean not gay gay but-fuck,” Eddie struggles. 

The heels of his hands dig into his eyes as he tries to collect his racing thoughts.

“Just go, Eddie. We can pretend this never happened,” your voice is low, almost a rumble. 

“Will you just listen to me?” he demands frustratedly, voice raised. 

“Is everything alright?” Dustin appears in the open doorway. 

His face is full of concern and confusion. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Dust. Eddie was just leaving.”

Eddie gives you a desperate look. He pleads with those big brown eyes. When it's clear you’re done and this conversation isn't going any further he sighs.

“See you later, Henderson,” he mumbles as he pushes past Dustin. 

You’re not really sure which one of you it's directed at. Eddie isn't either.

***

You actively avoid Eddie the following week. It’s painfully obvious. He wants a chance to grab you. To talk to you and explain the misunderstanding. He's beginning to think you can sense that and that's why you’ve been so slippery as of late. The only time he really could is when you’re on your way to work, but he doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to make you late or upset you before a shift. 

Dustin opens the door the next time Eddie knocks. You’re still letting them play in your trailer, but you haven't been home the last couple sessions. He does his best not to let it bother him. It's fucking hard when Dustin keeps giving him these watchful, curious looks. Almost like he’s trying to decipher what happened just by studying Eddie’s face. These looks are peppered throughout the entire campaign, exhausting Eddie.

It feels like fate when you come home as he’s packing up. He gives you an unsure smile. You return it and go into your room. That’s something. That’s progress. At the end of the day, Eddie doesn't want you thinking so low of him. He hates knowing you think he'd use you as an experiment. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a piece of shit. 

“Dustin, if you need a ride home Steve is stopping by in a few minutes,” you call out from your bedroom.

When you walk back out you’re in a pair of dark blue shorts that fall to your mid-thigh, and a baggy white muscle shirt. You catch the expression Eddie was making before he managed to wipe it off his face. You pause between the kitchen and the front door. 

“What?” you question a little aggressively.

Eddie holds his hands up to his chest in surrender. The unwarranted attitude automatically sets him off.

“Put the gun away, jeez. I didn't know you’re friends with Harrington is all,” Eddie snaps back defensively. 

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you guys? I thought you liked each other,  but now you’re acting like you hate each other,” Dustin interrupts exasperated. 

“Shut up,” the two of you say in unison.

Your head snaps to Eddie.

“Did you just tell my brother to shut up, Munson?” you demand. 

“You did too!”

“Because he’s my brother. Who the fuck are you to talk to him that way?” 

“Will you calm down?” Dustin demands.

“Dust-”

“No, this is so stupid. What happened?”

You grit your teeth. A sharp exhale exits your flared nostrils. Your eyes flicker to Eddie for a second. His face is red with frustration, his eyebrows are set, and his mouth is a thin line. You look back to Dustin's confused face.

“Jason,” you state flatly.

“Jason?” Eddie questions, absolutely bewildered.

Dustin’s face drops. His eyes squeeze shut as he sighs. You watch him slowly turn to look at Eddie. Eddie’s stomach sinks when he sees Dustin’s broken expression.

“Eddie, you didn't,” he pleads softly. 

Eddie’s eyes fly furiously between you and Dustin. He’s trying to grasp what the fuck is happening. Why did you bring up Jason? Why is Dustin looking at him like that?

“Didn’t what? What’s going on?” he asks, absolutely lost.

“You should go,” Dustin answers solemnly. 

“Jesus Christ, you fucking Hendersons don't know how to have a conversation to save your lives,” Eddie grumbles as he continues packing up his stuff.

“What’s that, Munson?” You demand, stepping forward.

“C’mon, don’t-” Dustin starts.

“Dustin, go wait outside,” you order without looking at him.

Your glare remains firmly on Eddie. Eddie who is glaring firmly back, only the battle map left on the table. 

“I’m not gonna wa-”

“Outside, now.”

Dustin huffs, but ultimately listens. Once the door is slammed shut behind him you march up to Eddie. Eddie backs up, but you don't stop. Soon his back hits the wall and there’s nowhere else to go. You stop directly in front of him and start aggressively poking his chest.

“Let’s get something fucking straight, Munson. If you’re going to be using my home for your stupid fucking childish fantasy game you're not going to talk about Dustin or me that way, got it?” you spat.

“Oh, now it's a stupid fucking childish fantasy game. That’s rich. You didn’t seem to think that when you were drooling over me DMing.” Eddie counters, still holding up his facade of confidence despite being cornered. 

“Please, don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff.

“I’m not. It’s pretty fucking clear you’re into me, sweetheart.”

“Yeah? And what are you? Completely indifferent? You get a hard on just from seeing me in shorts. You're pathetic.”

Eddie wants to be hurt. He wants to be hurt so fucking bad. His body has other plans in response to your words, though. Fire spreads to every limb. He has half a mind to bend you over the table right now and show you just how pathetic he is. He’s ready to make you an incoherent mewling mess so he can lean down and whisper who’s pathetic now? into your ear. 

“And you’re a fucking tease,” he snaps instead. 

“Holy shit,” you laugh sarcastically, “You’re getting turned on right now, aren't you?”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Me? Munson, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

The front door slams open. You whip around and Eddie’s eyes snap up to the door. Steve is standing there with his hands on his hips, looking completely unimpressed. 

“Alright, kids, what seems to be the problem here?” Steve asks.

He steps into the trailer with Dustin at his heels. Both you and Eddie are red, breathing heavily, and still standing within an inch of each other. 

“Steve, can you just bring Dustin home, please?” you try to sound less irritated, but it doesn't work very well.

“Okay, well, one, you said I could borrow your blue jacket. And two, I’m not going anywhere until you two explain what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing, I’m just dealing with Jason Junior over here,” you answer, crossing your arms. 

Steve’s head lolls back briefly in exasperation.

“God, Eddie, not you too,” he groans. 

“Not me too, what? Can you guys stop being so fucking cryptic and tell me what you mean?” Eddie demands.

He’s absolutely over being compared to Jason out of everyone. You huff and walk away. The three of them watch you wander into your room and then back out. You throw the blue bomber jacket at Steve. He catches it with a frown.

“Everyone just get the fuck out of my house,” you grumble and stomp back to your room.

The door slams with such force Eddie is surprised he doesn't hear the wood splinter. All three boys flinch at the sound. Eddie scoffs to himself and starts to barge out. Steve stands in front of the door, blocking Eddie’s way.

“Move, Harrington,” Eddie orders.

“Not until you tell me what all that was about, Munson.”

“Can we do this outside?” Dustin interjects.

The three of them leave the trailer. You’re left alone in your room with nothing, but endless silence. Endless silence and that heavy feeling you get in your stomach whenever you just get done ruining everything. 

“Okay, can someone please tell me what the fuck all this Jason bullshit is about?” Eddie turns on Dustin and Steve once they’re a good few feet from the trailer.

Steve and Dustin exchange a look that Eddie doesn't like. They’re both privy to something about you that Eddie isn't. It’s not surprising, but it's surely irritating. Especially when everyone is talking about it like he knows too. 

“You remember that black eye Jason had inexplicably about four months ago?” Steve sighs.

“Yeah, it was a helluva shiner.”

“I gave him that.”

Eddie spends a moment just blinking. How is this relevant?

“Okay…” Eddie trails off, shaking his head to tell Steve to continue. 

“I gave him that because he’s a little prick that really fucked’em over,” Steve continued with a gesture over his shoulder at your trailer. 

“Wait… Jason? They were with Jason?” Eddie questions in disbelief. 

“Yeah, behind locked doors. Until Jason was done playing queer and got with Chrissy without saying anything,” Dustin says bitterly.

Hearing queer from Dustin’s mouth kinda stung Eddie, he won't lie. He knows Dustin meant it in a sexuality way, not derogatory. Something he likely picked up from you. Still, there’s something about someone decidedly straight saying it. 

“When they confronted him about it he… He said some not very nice things. It really fucked with them. Like really fucked with them. I mean he wasn't the first one to do something like that, but he was the worst one,” Steve explained, sounding irritated at the memory.

“I still don't get what that has to do with me,” Eddie rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You tell us,” Dustin crosses his arms.

“I don't fucking know.”

“Just tell us what happened between the two of you,” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose, a hand in his hip.

Eddie tucks his hands in his armpits. He spends too long looking between Dustin and Steve. He really doesn't want to do this. He really really doesn't want to do this, but he also doesn't want to be put in the same league as fucking Jason. Frustrated that he’s backed into a corner for the second time today, Eddie wets his lips with his tongue.

“Fine, fine. We’ve been flirting. Last week we made out a little- the night you guys watched E.T.. I was supposed to come over the next day after you were gone so we could… y’know,” Eddie gestures awkwardly with his hands.

Both Dustin and Steve let out an ew.

“Yeah, anyway. You were still there. When we were talking in their room I said that maybe it's for the better that we didn't do anything. After that… I dunno what happened exactly. They started going on about me having a sexuality crisis, which isn't what was happening. I was just worried you would be pissed at me if we did do something,” Eddie finishes explaining. 

Dustin and Steve exchange a look again. Eddie hates this. He hates feeling put under a microscope. He hates that you’ve turned on him so quickly. 

“You sure you weren’t… experimenting?” Steve asks, jerking his chin up at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I got experimenting out of my system a long time ago, alright? I know who and what I like.”

Steve nods and rubs his jaw in contemplation. He glances once more at Dustin who wears a troubled expression. That troubled expression is aimed directly at Eddie.

“You're both pussies,” Dustin states.

“Excuse me?” Steve scoffs.

“Not you,” Dustin rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a pussy. I tried, alright? Whenever we talk now it’s just a fucking fight,” Eddie says heatedly. 

“You used me as an excuse. That’s why they think you’re full of shit. You flirt and make out then all the sudden you get concerned with what I think? It’s bullshit, Eddie. You just got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of the possibility you could have feelings!”

Eddie’s jaw sets. His hands tuck back into his armpits, now his arms apply more pressure. Acid rises in his throat. The kid is right. It’s not that he has any crazy feelings right now, but he can feel them coming. Like a sneeze building up, he can sense the oncoming rush. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak to others, the way you speak to him. Eddie knows he could catch feelings fast if given the chance. When an out was presented, he took it. It’s the feelings that make this feel messy, not your relation to Dustin.

“Can we just fucking agree that I’m not Jason?” Eddie sounds more desperate than he’d like. 

“You’re not Jason, but you gotta get them to realize that,” Steve tells him.

Eddie sighs.

“I’m going inside. I’ll see you later,” he mumbles, turning on his heel. 

This conversation has him exhausted. You have him exhausted. He knows he has to find a way to talk to you. Talk, not argue. Not fall down a rabbit hole of aggressive sexual tension. Right now, though, he needs to take a fucking nap.

***

The short rap on the front door startles you. You wait for a beat where you lay on the couch. Another set of three knocks. Curiously, you answer the door. When you see Eddie standing with the screen door open you go to close it again. His hand flies out and stops the door from shutting.

“Will you just let me talk?” He huffs.

“Fine,” you sigh and go back to the couch.

You don't bother checking if he’s following. The screen door creaking shut followed by the front door lets you know. He sits delicately next to you. There's a few inches of space left between your legs. Eddie fiddles with the rings that have become a permanent fixture on his left hand. 

“So, talk,” you order.

“I’m not Jason, alright?”

“Cool, that it? You can see yourself out.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie snaps. 

He tries to believe he made a valiant effort to stay calm. Your attitude irritates him more each time you show it. Eddie is a lot of things, patient in the face of unwarranted malice is not one of them. 

“You, you’re my fucking problem.”

“Me? Henderson, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” Eddie turns your own words against you.

Your head snaps to look at him. Nostrils flaring, face red, and eyes full of contempt. 

“Please, Munson, you’re beneath me. You’re pathetic,” you sneer.

Jesus Christ, there's no reason your words went straight to Eddie’s dick the way they did. How are you able to play him with more skill than he does his guitar? 

“I wasn't pathetic when you were sucking my face off by the dumpster,” he counters.

“You act like I sucked your dick. It was a stupid kiss.”

“I remember you wanting to jump my bones after that stupid kiss,” Eddie mocks you.

Your fists clench in your lap. You’re about a second away from grabbing Eddie by his hair and showing him just how pathetic he is. 

“Yeah, then unfortunately for you, you kept running your fucking mouth.”

“Unfortunately for me? Trust me, sweetheart, you’re the one missing out. I woulda rocked your world, anyone else woulda been ruined for you,” Eddie’s voice is condescending with a challenging edge. 

You lean in slightly with narrowed eyes.

“I really doubt that.”

Eddie leans in some.

“Do you?”

You lean in even further.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eddie’s eyes flash down to your mouth before quickly moving back to your eyes. 

“Maybe I should prove it to you then.”

“Now who wants to fuck so bad they look stupid?” You smirk. 

“Fuck it, me,” Eddie breathes and closes the space between you.

His hands are on your face. His mouth moves furiously against yours sending shockwaves down your body. One of your hands takes hold of the back of Eddie’s hair. The other runs along his jaw until it’s circled around his neck. You force him away by tugging back on his hair and pushing forward on his throat. He looks so pretty like this with his big eyes wide as can be, all pupils. His face is flushed and his breathing is ragged. Eddie is pliant in your grasp.

“Look at you. Just as pathetic as I thought,” you coo teasingly.

“I’ll show you pathetic,” he grumbles.

In a blink, you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned above your head with one of Eddie’s strong calloused hands. He hovers over you. The heat radiating from his body soaks into your skin. The tip of his nose brushes against yours.

“You’re a real fucking brat, y’know that? Go on, admit it. Tell me you're a brat,” he hisses in your face, warm breath hitting your lips.

Your heart is pounding. Your body is heating up. Every part of you wants this so bad no matter how much you hate it. 

“You’re an asshole,” you hiss back.

Eddie’s rings are cold against your jaw. His grip is punishing as he manhandles your face. He presses his forehead to yours. Those huge brown eyes are commandeering as they lock onto yours.

“Am I gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you?”

You manage to let out a taunting laugh.

“You don’t have what it takes to fuck anything out of me,” you bite.

His grip tightens making talking impossible. Eddie's mouth brushes against your ear and his hair tickles your nose.

“I’m going to fuck you until the only words you know are Eddie, please, and more,” he whispers. 

You hate the shiver that runs down your spine. You hate how much he just turned you on, how much you want what he’s threatening you with. Every nerve ending is on fire. Eddie’s lips begin an assault on the soft bit of skin just below your ear. The sensation makes you squirm in delight. Eddie smiles against your neck.

“There you go, now you’re behaving. Now that you’ve finally shut the fuck up,” he taunts.

You glare at him, still unable to speak with his hand holding your face. That’s it. He’s been on you long enough. You’ve let him have control for long enough. Confusion flashes across his face when you smile. You lock your legs around Eddie’s waist. With a grunt, you launch your hips and legs up and over. 

Eddie lands with an annoyed noise on his back on the carpeted floor. You straddle him, wrists free. Now you grip both his wrists next to his head. You brandish a wicked smile as he looks up at you in surprise. Clearly he wasn't expecting to be bested at that moment. Your knees dig into the carpet uncomfortably around his hips, but you ignore it. Eddie’s slightly nervous expression takes your attention off of it. You lean in to brush the tips of your noses together like he did before. 

“What, big boy? Not feeling very confident anymore? You got no more to say?” you mock him quietly.

“I already said everything I need to say,” he mumbles back.

“What’s that, bitch? I didn't hear you,” your voice drips with venom. 

Something in Eddie completely snaps. He swears he hears the sound of it. A deafening CRACK SNAP POP. Then whatever wild animal that has been scratching at his insides bursts free. 

“Alright, I’m real fuckin’ tired of this attitude, sweetheart. Guess I’m gonna have to do somethin’ about it.”

You open your mouth to challenge him further. To berate him, degrade him. He can feel it. While it would only egg him on, only contribute to the growing erection in his pants, he won't allow it. He won't let you win control over this situation. Not this time. You’re already far too smug.

Eddie manages to rip his hands away from yours. In a blink, he’s sitting up. You place your hands flat on his chest to shove him back down, but he moves too fast. His hands are under your ass, scooping you up as he stands in a second. Instinctively, you wrap yourself around him to avoid falling. He has a firm steady grip on you, though.

“You won't be able to walk right when I’m done with you,” he growls, setting off for your bedroom.

“I just don't believe you’re good enough at sex for that,” you whisper into his ear with a smirk.

“Oh, I’ll make a believer out of you. My dick will have you meeting God and calling him by my name.”

He throws you onto your bed. The rough manhandling is something you never knew you wanted. It’s riling you up even more. 

“You got condoms or are we doing this raw?” Eddie questions.

“I have condoms, but we’re doing this raw anyway,” you answer smugly.

“Is that what you think?” he taunts.

He rummages around your bedside table. There’s a decent sized box of condoms that’s about three quarters of the way empty. Admittedly, you haven't touched the box in a while. It’s from another life that ended months ago. However, when Eddie teases you about them, you find yourself lying.

“Jesus Christ, you’re more of a fucking whore than I took you for,” he holds up the box, shaking it to emphasize how empty it is.

“I like sex, and I like cumming even more. Too bad only one of those things will be happening tonight.”

Eddie takes out a condom and throws the box back in the drawer. He unbuttons his pants and kicks them off unceremoniously. You can see the imprint of his dick hardening in his tight boxers. He looks down at you with hooded lustful eyes. Soon you’re staring at his bare dick, his underwear abandoned on the floor. It bobs throbbing and red, glistening with precum. 

“Get on your hands and knees. M’gonna use that big mouth of yours since you like havin’ it open so fuckin’ much,” he snaps.

You don’t know why, but you listen. Now that you’re on your bed with Eddie’s dick right there, all fight is gone. Eddie's hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes into your mouth. 

“Shit,” he moans as you welcome him in with a twirl of your tongue. 

He starts fucking your face slowly. You look up at him through your lashes. Eddie is watching you take him into your mouth like it's nothing. The eye contact makes you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he brushes the back of your throat. 

“Never thought I’d get you to shut the fuck up,” Eddie grunts as he picks up his pace. 

You try to remove your mouth. A scalding remark on the tip of your tongue. His grip on your hair tightens until it burns. His thrusts don't break.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. I plan on cumming down your throat before that loud mouth of yours starts up again.”

And fuck if that doesn't send you on a mission. Eddie doesn't even need to guide you after that, but it doesn't stop him. He refuses to relinquish control. He refuses to give you an opportunity to flip this on him. Finally, his hips stutter. Then he’s holding your head, calling out a resounding FUCK, and buries your nose in the dark hair at the base of his dick. You moan as Eddie shoots hot streams of cum down your throat. You take every last drop.

Once he’s finished, his grip on your hair loosens. You sit back on your heels. While making eye contact, you use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. It’s a move that makes Eddie’s softening dick twitch.

“You had something to say?” Eddie's voice is raspy, but still condescending.

You narrow your eyes at him. As if he wasn't just using your mouth to get off, you cross your arms petulantly. 

“No, it’s okay. I don't think your fragile ego can handle it,” you shrug.

Eddie huff in disbelief.

“I just fucked my cum down your throat and your gonna call my ego fragile?”

“Seems so.”

“Just tell me what you were gonna fuckin’ say,” he orders, climbing into the bed over you.

Eddie crowding you causes you to lay back. Even in the compromising position, you smirk smugly. Eddie’s hair tickles your cheeks as he hovers over you. He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“It was nothing really… Just that Jason’s dick always managed to shut me up way faster than yours did,” you say casually, almost bored. 

“Jason’s di- are you seriously bringing him up right now?”

“Why, that bother you?”

“Considering I’m about to make you meet God like we talked about, yeah a little,” Eddie’s voice is breathy. 

He actually sounds a bit irritated.

“Never took you for the religious type.”

Eddie gets a wicked smile.

“‘M not, but you’re already in bed with the Devil, baby. Only one other Big Man to meet.”

“Big? Is that what you think of yourself?”

“Do you need a reminder? I’ll be happy to fuck that pretty mouth of yours again.”

Eddie leans down closer. Fuck, you want to kiss him. You don't. You won't let him know just how much you’re enjoying this. Instead you smile teasingly.

“You think my mouth is pretty?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, I hate to admit it, but… Not gonna lie, I think every part of you is unreal. Y’know, until you start talking.” 

You snake your hands up Eddie’s chest. Slowly and sensually, you make your way up his shoulders. Then you skirt up and around to the back of his neck until your fingers tangle in his hair. Eddie really likes when you play with his hair. You can tell by the way his eyelids droop a little more at the contact. He almost looks like he’s about to lean down and kiss you. So, you take your chance.

Your grip tightens tenfold. Eddie’s eyes widen as you pull him back, sitting up in the process. He hisses, but doesn't complain otherwise. You glide the tip of your nose up the side of his neck until you reach his earlobe. With a smirk, you angle your head up so you can speak into his ear. 

“I’m gonna use that big mouth of yours since you like having it open so fucking much,” you whisper, using his own words against him.

You swear you hear him breathe a curse. You let go of his hair, knowing he’ll follow you wherever you lead. Eddie is sure you could lead him into Mordor, up Mount Doom, and down into the lava like Sméagol. He’s sure that whatever painful obsession the ring of power imposed on Frodo, you just imposed on him. For better or worse. Eddie Munson is officially and completely captivated by you. You’re his precious.

That’s why he doesn't hesitate. He doesn't argue. He doesn't talk back. Instead he watches, waits patiently for you to settle into your pillows and peel off your shorts and underwear. Eddie happily, even eagerly, let’s you fuck his face like he did yours. You swear his tongue is magic. It’s hitting all the right spots, deft movements eliciting loud moans from you. 

“Look at you. Just as pathetic as I thought,” you say as your thighs clench around Eddie’s head, your fingers digging into his scalp.

All Eddie can manage is a moan as you fill his mouth. You don't take as long as Eddie did to finish. Him using you and cumming down your throat had gotten you close enough, closer than you care to admit. You cum with a loud moan, no actual words coming out. With your fingers tangled in his hair, you pull him up. He looks dazed, drunk on your taste. 

“At least your mouth is good for something,” you tell him with a slick grin. 

Christ, Eddie is a goner. He’s an absolute goner. This is so so bad.

“Look at you, you’re already all fucked out and we haven't even gotten to actually fucking yet. You’re really making me miss Jason…” you sigh dramatically. 

The mention of Jason again wakes Eddie up. A growl rumbles through his chest. His hand finds your wrist, applying enough pressure to get you to let go of his hair. He clambers over you, face real close to yours. There’s something hungry in his dark eyes. Something carnivorous.

“I’m gonna make sure you forget about fucking Jason,” he hisses.

“Fucking Jason is the one thing I like to remember,” you tease.

Eddie silently curses his own poorly placed fuck that gave you that opening. Hearing Jason’s name in the middle of this is seriously starting to grate his nerves.

“That’s it,” Eddie grumbles.

Before you can question him, he grabs onto your waist. With little effort he flips you onto your stomach. Your face is held sideways against your pillows. Eddie forces your hips in the air. You can feel the tip of his dick tease your entrance, causing you to twitch. 

“What happened to the condom, prude?” you spit at him from your compromised position.

“The whore wanted it raw, the whore will get it raw,” he growls back. 

It’s in that submissive state, Eddie’s rings digging into your scalp as he holds you down, him degrading you that you realize you’re a goner. You’re an absolute goner. This is so, so bad.

“What’re you waitin’ for then?” you question.

A loud SLAP rings out and a burning sensation spreads across your ass cheek. You gasp at the feeling. 

“This is for my pleasure, whore. This isn't about you. I’ll go as fast or slow as I like.”

On the last word Eddie pushes into you. He doesn't go too fast at first. Sure, he wants to fuck you until you can't walk, but he doesn't want to hurt you. The foreplay was minimal, slow is better for now. You whine as he bottoms out. Completely stretched out and full you can do nothing but grip the sheets on either side of your head. 

Slowly, Eddie begins to move. He’s so lost in the feel of you around him and his own mutterings of Jesus Christ that he doesn't register you speaking at first.

“What?” He breathes.

You cackle.

“Christ, Munson, you’re pathetic.”

There’s that word again. That fucking word. Eddie leans down, both of your damp shirts still on and sticking to each other. 

“Remember what I said earlier?” he whispers into your ear.

“I remember you saying you think I’m unreal,” you mock him.

He straightens back up.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talkin’ while you still can. Soon you’ll only be able to say Eddie,” he gives a single powerful thrust earning a moan from you, “please,” another powerful thrust, “more.”

Eddie sets off on a wild chase of his second orgasm and your delirium. Admittedly, that delirium was setting in very fast. His movements are quick, strong, and fluid. You can't think of anyone else who has fucked you like this. In a way you didn't realize you’ve been craving. In a way that doesn't make you feel like an object, a subject to be studied, or a novelty. Eddie makes you feel a person who is desired, even in spite of the animosity ripe between you. He makes you feel like a whore in the best way possible.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good,” Eddie groans as you tighten around him. 

He’s giving you so much already, but he was right. There are only three words you can think of right now. Only three words you think you’re capable of uttering.

“Eddie,” you moan.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

“Come again?”

“More.”

“Not sure I heard you right,” he says smugly, never breaking pace.

“Eddie, please, more,” you moan.

“Thought so.”

Eddie’s thrusts become animalistic. All the anger, frustration, name calling, and overall emotion from the rollercoaster that your relationship has been are being taken out on you. You start saying it like a mantra. Eddie, please, more. It’s a white flag, a surrender. It’s you telling him he’s won. Boy, oh, boy is it a sweet fucking sound. A sound that turns into a scream of a moan with your body tensing around him. He spills into you, hips flush against your ass. His own moans mingle with yours in the air. 

You collapse onto your stomach, Eddie close behind. He stays on top of you. After a minute of catching his breath he rolls off of you. You stay on your stomach as you come back to your senses. 

“You alright, Henderson?” Eddie’s voice is much softer than you’re expecting. 

You turn your head to face him. He’s watching you with wide eyes. How does he manage to look so innocent after everything he just did to you?

“Yeah, Munson, I’m peachy. You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He nods, eyes never leaving you. Your eyes don't leave him. What’s the point in trying to hide staring after all that? You don't care that he is and he doesn't care that you are. 

“So, you still miss fucking Jason?” Eddie asks playfully.

“Who?” 

“Good,” he smiles, looking awfully pleased with himself. 

“Do we still hate each other? I can't remember anymore,” you knit your eyebrows to feign confusion. 

Eddie laughs. It’s a low sound that rumbled through his chest. His eyes take on a gooey quality that you fear you may get stuck in.

“I think we might like each other now. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Sounds good to me.”

***

The scent of sex is thick and heavy in the air when you wake up. Golden light streaks across your face as the sun lowers beneath the horizon. When you shift to turn over and check the time on your alarm clock, a warm weight stops you. Eddie’s arms are around you loosely, holding you against his chest. Both of you are still in only your shirts. 

Carefully, you extract yourself. Eddie groans, but doesn't wake. You only bother with a new pair of underwear. Your stomach lets out a loud grumble and the hunger hits you. You take another look at Eddie’s sleeping form. The annoyance doesn't creep up at the sight of him anymore. Something else does in its place. Something you decide not to dwell on. All you know is if you’re this hungry, he’ll wake up hungry too.

Eddie wakes up to the smell of sex, bacon, eggs, and melted butter. It takes a second to get his bearings. The smell makes him think morning, but the position of the sun tells him it's evening. He crawls out of your bed and pulls his bottom layers back on. When he makes his way out to the main living area he finds you in the kitchen. You’re humming God Only Knows and pushing eggs around in a sizzling pan. Beside you is a plate of bacon and a plate of pancakes. 

There’s a moment where the only thing Eddie can do is watch you. You’re bathed in the last golden rays of the evening, nothing but that baggy white muscle tank and a fresh pair of black underwear. The song isn't one he goes out of his way to listen to, but Wayne has thrown it on a few times. Enough for Eddie to recognize the Beach Boys’ tune. 

“All that for you?” Eddie finally alerts you to his presence. 

You jolt a little in surprise and whip around to look at Eddie. A coy smile crawls upon your face.

“Uh- no. I woke up starving and figured you would too,” you shrug.

As if on cue, Eddie’s stomach lets out a loud growl. You laugh and gesture for him to sit at the table. The whole scene feels so… domestic. If something in Eddie snapped earlier, something else is connecting now. There’s a satisfying click in his head as the sensation of things finally being on the right track sets in. 

“Y’know, I didn’t peg you for a Beach Boys fan,” Eddie comments after a moment of only the sound of you scraping eggs around the pan.

You don't look at him, but Eddie swears he sees color rise to your cheeks.

“I’m not really. It… my dad used to sing that song all the time,” you explain, something close to troubled taking over your voice.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise. He’s never heard mention of Father Henderson before. Dustin only ever has complaints about your mom. Neither of you have mentioned a father until now.

“Dustin’s never mentioned-”

“He wasn't Dustin’s dad.”

You slide the scrambled eggs onto the last empty plate. Eddie watches you bring them over before grabbing a couple more plates for the two of you to eat from. Then some cutlery.

“I’m sorry if I brought up a sore subject,” he apologizes with big eyes as you sit across from him.

You begin shoveling food onto your plate.

“You didn't. I actually love talking about him, but my mom and Dustin have never really felt the same. So, I just don’t.”

“Do you want to talk about him now?” 

You finally look at Eddie. Eyebrows slightly raised, eyes a tad wider than normal, and a soft smile on your lips. He wonders if it's okay to reach over and kiss you. 

“His favorite song was God Only Knows by the Beach Boys, but I guess you probably figured that out.”

“Not a bad choice.”

You chuckle.

“I can't imagine you listening to the Beach Boys.”

“I don't, but Wayne does sometimes. God Only Knows is one of the only ones that doesn't make me want to rip my hair out,” he flashes you a playful smile.

“My dad would sing it whenever he was doing something boring. Laundry, dishes, but especially cooking.”

Eddie nods as he fills his own plate. There’s a couple minutes where the two of you eat in silence. Occasional voices could be heard outside, some cats, and the clinking of bottles as recycling goes out. The average soundtrack of Forest Hills.

“Can I ask what happened or is that not cool?” Eddie asks genuinely. 

He really doesn't know how to navigate this conversation. He doesn't want to piss you off or upset you in general. All he knows is how he would want to be asked and, honestly, he simply wouldn't. You don’t seem as closed off on that front as he is, though.

“Pancreatic cancer. My mom ended the marriage before the cancer did, though. Said it was too much for her to handle.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Eddie suddenly felt very guilty for asking.

You just shrug. 

“Where’s Dustin’s dad?”

“Who knows,” you snort, “he ran off with some woman from his job.”

“Jeez, your mom really has-”

“Poor choice in men? Yeah.”

“I was gonna say piss poor luck.”

You laugh, which loosens some of the tension that's built around the conversation. Eddie chuckles along, scarfing some food down in the process. 

“We would fly kites when it was nice out. Sometimes he’d bring me to the lake where we’d fish and swim. He liked going to the library a lot, too. I basically grew up in the mystery section. A lot of that was lost when the cancer got bad, though. All of it, really. All of it except that song. No matter how bad it got, he always sang that song,” you rattle on sadly, but with a smile.

It’s been so long since you've talked about him. It feels good. Like visiting him after a long time away. Memories are nice, but there’s something special about sharing them. It’s easier to relive them. Easier to enjoy them when you get to do it with someone else. Maybe it’s just because that someone else is Eddie. You think if anyone will understand, or at the very least respect, how it feels it'd be him. 

“What was his name?”

“Jack. Jack Coleman.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. He narrows his eyes and leans in, pointing his fork in an accusatory fashion. 

“Wait, so, you’re not a Henderson? You’re a Coleman?” He questions.

You break out in a smile. 

“Guilty.”

Eddie looks like he was struck by lightning. Like the heavens just opened up and revealed the meaning of life to him. 

“Shit, wait… I do remember you!”

“No, you don't,” you shake your head, attempting to hide how mortified that sentence makes you.

“Yes, I totally do! All your friends called you Cole. You had those sick green vans,” he wears a goofy smile.

You feel heat crawl up your neck.

“You remember my vans?”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to flush bright red.

“Yeah, like I said, they were sick.”

“I still have’em somewhere. Maybe I’ll break’em out one day,” you smile.

Both of you clear your plates after that. You really were hungry. It’s an amicable silence. One that grows more uncomfortable in your chest because you know another hard conversation has to be had.

“I know you’re not Jason, by the way. I mean, I know now. Sorry I jumped to conclusions. I've been through a lot of Jasons,” you tell him softly.

Eddie offers a soft smile.

“S’alright. Would you tell me what happened there? I can't imagine you with fuckin’ Jason.”

You chuckle.

“Yeah, he asked me for help at work and then started saying all the right things. The dating pool for me in Hawkins is small. So, when he said he didn't want anyone to know I said okay. When he pretended not to know me in public I said okay. Then, one day, he was just…,” you frown at the memory of them walking down the street holding hands, “with Chrissy Cunningham. I asked him about it, but he was pissed I called his house. Called me about every derogatory name you can think of.”

Eddie could actually kill Jason. He already hated him, but now he’s actively cursing the ground the asshole walks on. How could he treat you so shitty? How could he not feel grateful he gets to be in your presence in this capacity? 

“Well, I’d like to keep doing this. As public as possible. I want everyone to know I’m with someone this unreal,” he keeps his tone playful, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. 

Your heart starts pounding against your chest. Eddie is sitting across from you offering you everything you’ve ever wanted in a relationship. Someone who not only wants to be with you, but is proud to be with you. It’s almost too much. 

“So, you're with me now, huh?” you tease.

“I sure am,” Eddie teases back with a wolfish grin.

“Maybe let's start with an actual date.”

“You asking me out, Hen-Coleman,” he places emphasis on getting the last name right. 

A smile forms on your lips. You don't have an issue with being called a Henderson. The different last name is why so many people don't know you and Dustin are related. So, you don't correct people anymore when they call you Henderson. The reminder that you're technically only half siblings has always upset Dustin.

“Yeah, I think I am, Munson.”

“Then I expect to be picked up at seven sharp. You better have flowers and chocolates. I’m expensive to date.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Eddie helps you clean without you asking. He takes over the dishes, scooting you out of the way and instructing you to dry and put them away. 

“I dunno where anything goes,” is his excuse.

Really, he just wanted to take on the more arduous task for you. A sort of repayment for making him food. The effortless kindness you've met him with after the sex you had. The angry, heated sex. Eddie finds it kinda funny how the two of you have fallen into this little exchange of kindness and good will considering how the day began. 

When the dishes are all done and put away, Eddie begins awkwardly fiddling with his rings. It feels like his time with you is coming to an end. He doesn't want to overstay his welcome, but fuck does he want to stay. Just hanging out with you like this makes him feel… normal. He doesn't feel like the Freak, the drug dealer, or the fuck up. He just feels like Eddie and, for the first time, he feels like maybe that's enough. 

“Is it really dumb to ask you to stay?” you ask him suddenly.

You’re standing across the small kitchen, having just put the last of the plates away. Eddie looks at you with wide, excited eyes.

“Awe, you wanna spend more time with me, Coleman?” Eddie coos teasingly. 

“Alright, forget I said anything,” you roll your eyes with a smile.

Eddie lets out a laugh.

“I’ll stay until you kick me out,” he smiles back. 

You don't kick him out until you have to go to work the next afternoon.

***

The next time Dustin calls to beg for permission for Hellfire to meet at your place, you agree without hesitation. The day before you work, but only until five. Eddie is waiting in his van in front of the store when you exit, a lit cigarette between his lips. You smile and hop in. 

“I wasn't expecting you to pick me up,” you say as you buckle your seatbelt.

You know he had work at the record store today. Eddie takes one last drag of his cigarette and puts it out in the cup holder on his side. He’s been doing that ever since you yelled at him for flicking his butts out the window. 

“Got out at four. I’m not gonna let my precious Coleman walk home if I can help it,” he shows off a goofy smile and starts to drive. 

“You think I’m precious,” you coo.

“More precious than the One Ring,” he coos back.

“Okay, you've lost me.”

Eddie glances at you in disbelief.

“You have Henderson as a brother and you don't know Lord of the Rings?” 

“Oh, that’s those books that read like textbooks, right?”

“Read like- Jesus Christ, I might have to rethink this whole situation,” he says to himself.

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I don’t have much time for reading. So, when I do, if it's not simple and to the point, I can't get into it.”

“Lord of the Rings is art. It’s a painting on paper.”

“Aren’t all paintings on paper?”

“Canvas,” he corrects, “you’re makin’ me feel real smart today.”

“Glad I can be of service,” you say sarcastically. 

“Seriously, though. That’s like… my favorite thing other than D&D and music,” his voice is more tender, more serious.

And you, he thinks. It’s far too early to admit that. Doesn't mean he doesn't feel that way, though.

“Maybe I can give it another go,” you shrug.

Eddie throws a soft smile your way. You hold onto the warmth it fills you with for as long as you can. Eddie ends up staying the night, which isn't much of a surprise. It was clear he was expecting it because he brought his D&D bag with him. It did make setting up the next day easier since he was already there. 

By the time Dustin shows up Eddie is all set up. You’re laying on the couch, Eddie is crouched beside you. His face is close to yours, a sly smile present. You’re busy giggling like a maniac at whatever he must have said. Dustin lets the screen door fall shut behind him. The sound of it slamming startles you and Eddie. 

“What’s going on?” Dustin asks suspiciously. 

Eddie smiles widely.

“Just telling Coleman here what’s in store for you guys today,” he says easily. 

Dustin visibly stiffens. He doesn't find this situation as amusing as the two of you seem to.

“Coleman,” Dustin states, eyes set on you.

You can see the hurt. It’s been so long since you've corrected someone on your last name. You didn't think about how the sudden change might make Dustin feel rejected.

“Yeah, y’know, their last name,” Eddie eggs the conversation on, unaware of the ugly feelings bubbling up.

“I know their last name, Eddie,” Dustin snaps. 

That clues Eddie into the sore nature of the subject. He glances apologetically between you and Dustin. 

“Dustin, don’t be rude,” you chide.

“You two were at each other’s throats the last time I saw you together and you’re telling me not to be rude?” 

“Well, we’re not at each other’s throats now. So, yeah, I am,” you begin catching Dustin’s own attitude. 

You sit up, causing Eddie to stand. 

“Whatever, it’s bullshit and you know it,” he rolls his eyes and throws his bag down next to the chair he usually occupies. 

“Excuse me, what’s bullshit?” You question and stand up.

Eddie is watching helplessly. He can't help but feel like he incited this situation. Dustin gestures widely at the air around you and Eddie.

“You telling me what to do. You guys are friends today, but tomorrow you’ll probably be fighting again. Isn't that how it goes with you?”

Any emotion falls from your face. Your hands shake a bit. You won't let them see you break. You won't derail their night. Besides, Dustin is right. You and Eddie are good now, but you like to blow up all the good things in your life. Ever since your father died, the idea that anything good may be permanent feels more like a pipe dream. It’s easier to discard good things before good things discard you.

“Yeah, it is. I’m going to be in my room. Have fun with your campaign,” you mumble and storm past him to your room.

The door doesn't slam. It clicks shut calmly, which is scarier. Eddie rounds on Dustin. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Henderson?” he demands.

“I don't have a problem.”

“You wanna talk about bullshit? What is it? Am I not good enough-”

“Eddie, you know that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Dustin takes a second. He sighs, closing his eyes, and then opening them once more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

The waver in Dustin’s voice throws Eddie off. His features soften as he looks at Dustin. Guilt washes over him. Sure, Dustin might be younger and Eddie might see him as a protege, or a younger brother, but he’s still one of Eddie’s best friends. Fuck, this was really shitty of him. He should have told Dustin he’s into you, regardless of how obvious it was. He should have told him you two have hooked up and are seeing where things go. Maybe not official, but exclusive. Instead, he acted like it didn't matter. Like it didn't matter that he’s seeing his best friend’s older sibling. Eddie runs an anxious hand over his face, stopping at his chin to hold it in thought.

“I’m really sorry, Dustin,” is all he can say in the end.

“I don't want an apology. I want an answer. I asked you so many times, Eddie. Every time you just dismissed me. I’m not stupid! And I don’t care! I’m happy for you, for both of you. I just… I just really wish you told me.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath. Dustin's words fall heavy on his shoulders. They're a weight he can tell he’ll be carrying for a while. 

“I should’ve. I was afraid of what you'd think. What you’d say. It’s not an excuse, I know, but… I dunno I think this is real, man. It feels real.”

Dustin does what Eddie thought he may never do again. He hugs him. It takes Eddie a second to register, but once he does he hugs back tight. He’s hopeful when they separate. 

“I think it’s great. Seriously, you both look really happy. But if you hurt them, Eddie, I’ll get Steve to beat you up.”

Eddie nods with wide eyes.

“Understood.”

“Okay, I have to go apologize,” Dustin sighs. 

Eddie watches him disappear to your room. Mike and Will come strolling in. Eddie thanks whatever is out there that they showed after all that. 

***

“So, we’ve been doin’ this a while now,” Eddie says, head lolling over to look at you.

You’re in your bed, fully clothed. These nights are Eddie’s favorite. Together in bed for the sake of being together in bed and nothing else. Eddie’s hair is splayed out behind him. The singular telephone pole light outside exposes the blush on his cheeks. It makes you smile. You like that you do that to him. 

“I s’pose we have,” your voice is soft and quiet.

“D’you maybe wanna make this an official thing?” 

He looks shy, nervous. It’s adorable. 

“I’d love to be an official thing with you.”

“Metal,” he breathes with a smile.

You chuckle and press a joyful kiss on his lips. When you pull away Eddie can tell you have an idea. Your smile gets this funny little quirk when you get an idea.

“Since we’re an official thing, I guess you should formally meet my father,” you try to sound serious.

Pure confusion crosses Eddie’s face. You gesture to the set up on your dresser. A small urn and some photos. Understanding and then mischief lights up his face. He hops out of bed and stands before the dresser. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Eddie says and bows as if addressing a king. 

You let out a little laugh. Then he’s staring tenderly at the photos. One from your third birthday. You're on your father’s lap covered in cake. Another is from one of the times he took you fishing. You’re around six in that particular photo. The final photo shows you at eight. Your father looks so much older despite it only being a few years. He’s paler, thinner, and more tired looking. You’re tucked into bed with him, asleep. Eddie can only assume it's the last photo you took with him. 

“You were a cute kid,” he comments adoringly and jumps back into bed.

“What, I’m not cute now?” you tease.

“No, you're unreal now, remember,” he smiles.

You chuckle.

“You’re unreal too, Munson.”

One thing’s for sure, Eddie was right. This official thing is definitely real and it’s definitely it for both of you. 

[skepsiss]

Reflection: Eddie's POV

This is a 4 part mini-series about the Fruity Four. It's 1989 and Steve, Eddie, and Robin are visiting Hawkins over winter break. Nancy has invited them all over for a little Christmas get-together, and we read from the point of view of each member of the crew across 1 event.

I wrote these pieces to be read in any order, so... enjoy some Steddie, vague Ronance, Vickie x Robin, and just the Fruity Four being... fruity.

Dialogue prompt "You Remember That?" for @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge. Page break/border by @/alderdoodle.bsky.social on Bluesky.

Rating: T Words: 3,072 CW: Swearing, scars/injury, sexual language

Steve's Part Robin's Part Nancy's Part Eddie's Part

Nancy shut the door and Eddie stepped awkwardly down the front stoop with Steve’s help. He was treating Eddie like he was some kind of delicate ballerina or something, and it only vaguely bothered Eddie because he was wearing Nancy’s coat. He had left his proper winter coat at home by mistake, and of course tonight of all nights the weather gods had decided to launch Hawkins into a snowstorm. Just his luck, really—especially after he had bet Steve that their rental car wouldn’t get stuck in the snow during their visit. He had been dead wrong and now their only way back to the trailer was by foot and well… the trailer park was on the opposite side of town. 

“Hey Steve,” someone greeted from behind them, and Eddie slowly turned. “Hey Nance, where are—-oh.”

It was Mike, and he actually took half a step back when Eddie turned to look at him.

“Eddie?” He asked, looking startled before his brows creased, and his mouth tried to form words for a question.

“I forgot my coat,” Eddie said with a sharp frown, sounding vaguely threatening. “One word, Wheeler, and you’re dead meat.”

“Jeez—okay, I just wanted to—-sorry,” Mike replied, sounding defensive despite folding easily under Eddie’s glare.

“Hey, Mike,” Steve responded, leaning around Eddie slightly before tugging him in beside him. “We’re just leaving. We’ll be back around in a few days, probably, though.”

“Uh, yeah, cool, I was actually hoping I’d catch you before you left, Eddie. I can’t find the like initiation stuff you used for us when we first joined Hellfire, where is it? Do you remember that?”

“Uhhh….” Eddie replied, a bit stunned at being made to remember something so long ago—it was only 2 years, but he could hardly remember what he ate for breakfast sometimes.

“Theatre costume room, maybe?” He replied, shrugging. “I really don’t remember, dude. I’ll ponder on it, though, see if I can unlock something out of Mordenkainen's Tome.”

The two of them exchanged a chuckle at Eddie’s reference before they properly parted ways.

Steve trudged across the lawn, and Eddie shivered in his wake as he followed his footsteps through the snow. He took Steve’s hand once again when they reached the sidewalk and tucked in close to his side.

“Whose Mortem… Mortemkinim?” Steve asked, his voice lacking shyness for needing clarification. They had gotten well past the point of Steve needing to be embarrassed about asking for clarification on nerd stuff.

“Mordenkainen,” Eddie corrected lightly, “he’s like an arch-mage in Greyhawk who invents a bunch of magic… things. Has these planar tomes he has forbidden knowledge in and all that.”

“DnD shit?” Steve asked, raising a brow.

“DnD shit,” Eddie confirmed with a chuckle.

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” Steve teased, and Eddie glanced up to see him rolling his eyes. He was smiling still, though, which made Eddie grin back.

“You loooooovvveee it,” Eddie singsonged, knocking his temple against Steve’s head gently. “Got a fetish for it or something.”

“Excuse me?” Steve asked, accusatory, leaning away from Eddie with a laugh. “How the hell is that a fetish? What are your sources, Munson?”

“Uh, my eyes?” Eddie replied acrimoniously. “My eyes, my mouth, my ass–”

“Okay, enough, we have to walk for another thirty minutes at least, I don’t need this right now.”

Eddie snorted but relented, pleased that he had won that debate.

“It is nice, though,” Eddie said after a few moments of silence. He looked at the sky as they walked, watching the fluffy flakes of snow falling down on them. “Hawkins looking like this. Quiet… walking around the streets with you… holding your hand.”

Eddie looked back at Steve, who smiled faintly at him. He looked soft and despite how cold it was outside, Eddie could swear he felt heat radiating off of Steve from how much he glowed. He looked positively smitten.

Eddie had to look away, and he grinned down at the sidewalk instead, chuckling in an almost shy way.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Eddie swallowed, chewing his lip a bit out of nervousness. Steve could still make his chest and stomach explode with butterflies, even all these years later.

“Like what?” Steve asked, sounding amused as he nudged Eddie’s shoulder with his own.

“Like that–” Eddie laughed, leaning away dramatically from Steve’s friendly shoulder check. “Like you’re completely satisfied with life and more in love with me than anything else in the world.”

“I am in love with you…” Steve replied softly, and Eddie reached up and pulled the brim of his beanie down over his eyes.

He was grinning like an idiot, and Eddie could feel his cheeks cramping from how happy he was. He was being foolish and perhaps a bit juvenile, but he loved hearing Steve say things like that. It was so soft, and it made his heart soar like nothing else.

“You’re so fucking cute…” Steve complimented, which made Eddie pull his hat down further and groan.

“God, shut up,” he huffed, on the verge of giggling.

Eddie hadn’t anticipated it, but suddenly Steve’s arms were around his middle as he was being picked up off his feet.

Eddie shrieked with laughter, the hold only lasting for a moment before Steve was leaning over his shoulder and kissing his neck and cheek.

“Stop it!” Eddie whooped, trying to wriggle from Steve’s hold as he bent at the waist to get away. It didn’t do much to help except pull Steve further over his shoulder, so they were both shuffling gracelessly through the snow.

“I can’t,” Steve chastised, still kissing at what little bits of skin he could reach. “You’re just so goddamn adorable.”

He pulled the brim of Eddie’s hat up, and Eddie couldn’t control the giggles that escaped him as he feebly pulled away from his boyfriend. God, they were acting like such teenagers. They were so stupid. They were so stupid and so in love, and Eddie wouldn’t change a single second of it.

“I’m not adorable,” Eddie complained, still smiling, but his laughter had died down. “I’m supposed to be a metal-god. Devil spawn, heart-breaker extraordinaire!”

He heard Steve chuckle in his ear before relenting and giving him one good kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, a metal-god that makes me buy chocolate milk for him and who watches Banjo the Woodpile Cat on repeat when he’s feeling sentimental. Which is like… at least once a month.” Steve retorted, still grinning as he moved back to Eddie’s side.

“Shut up, man,” Eddie laughed, punching Steve in the shoulder as they continued to walk. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone that on pain of death.”

“You see anyone else around?” Steve asked, gesturing to the empty streets.

The orange glow of the street lights was making velvety shadows spread across the snow, the various Christmas lights from people’s yards joining in to create a nativity of colours. It was romantic, and it felt like they had slipped into a nulspace or the ethereal realm where they were the only ones around. It felt gossamer, and Eddie found himself longing for the old streets of Hawkins that he had so readily left behind a little over a year ago. 

“Just you, handsome,” Eddie replied, regaining a bit of his composure as he took Steve’s hand again. 

It was Steve’s turn to chuckle with flattery, and Eddie took the pause in their conversation to hustle ahead of Steve slightly.

“If there was someone around,” Eddie asked, striking a dramatic pose as he put his hand on his waist and cocked his hip. “You think they’d recognize me?”

Steve snorted at him and continued to walk, seemingly unfazed by Eddie’s antics.

“Doubt it,” Steve teased, poking Eddie in the stomach as he passed. Eddie flinched away with a smirk, despite not being able to feel the touch through the heavy parka. 

“That thing does wonders for your waist, though, makes you look curvy as hell.”

“Awww, you miss the curves, Steve?” Eddie asked, only feeling thin-skinned as he trotted up beside his boyfriend again. Despite them dating for two years, Eddie still had these moments of fear and anxiety over their relationship. Steve had been such a womanizer before they started dating—and he had pulled it off well, too. Every woman loved him. But he had somehow settled for thin-as-a-rail, chaos-gremlin, Eddie Munson who hardly had an ass for Steve to grab.

“Sometimes,” Steve admitted, and Eddie felt his stomach drop as he went quiet.

“But,” Steve shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “I’d miss a whole lot more than curves if I lost you.”

Eddie snorted at that and looked away again, Steve’s comment helping to banish his insecurities for now. 

Yeah… if they broke up—gods forbid—hearing that Steve would miss his body and what he had to offer felt reassuring. Despite hardly having an ounce of meat on his bones, he knew Steve found him attractive. He had heard it and seen it in the way Steve stared at him; how his breath hitched when Eddie stood at the foot of the bed with nothing on. He knew Steve found him attractive… it just felt difficult sometimes to stand in front of a literal Greek god—a man carved from marble in the likeness of the hero of Troy—and compare himself to that. Steve was positively radiant. 

“You getting in your head again?” Steve asked, which shook Eddie from his reverence. He blinked at Steve and then stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend.

“Only a little,” he admitted, looping his arm with Steve’s once again. 

They were a little more than halfway to the trailer park, and Eddie breathed deep as he felt his nose begin to tingle from the cold.

“Can we have a bath when we get back?” Eddie asked, swinging Steve’s arm a bit as they walked, needing to release some of the energy that was building in his limbs.

“A bath?” Steve asked, letting Eddie manhandle him however he liked. “It’ll be 11 at night by the time we’re back.”

“Yeah, so?” Eddie retorted, looking at Steve as if he was an idiot. “We’re on vacation, 11 pm baths aren’t anywhere near the freaky shit I want to get up to.” 

“Oh, I’ll be sure to mark that down and check off ‘breakfast in bed,’ ‘12 pm wake-up calls,’ and ‘assembling Christmas puzzles on the living room rug’ on the freaky list,” Steve replied sarcastically. 

Eddie smacked Steve’s arm with the back of his hand, the action having no real force behind it.

“God, am I getting boring?” Eddie asked, snorting slightly. But the question tickled a small part of his brain, reminding him that all of those things were painfully boring. 

He still had the goal of becoming a Rock Star, but he was less driven than he had been as a teen. 

Rock fame had been the only thing that was going to get him away from Hawkins-–away from his old man’s shadow—but along came Steve Harrington, who had whisked him away. Eddie was content now, and that was odd for him. He wasn’t sure if he had ever been content in his life before now. 

“I don’t think you’re boring,” Steve offered, awkwardly trudging his way through a snow drift and then offering his hand to Eddie to help him over it. Eddie didn’t need help, and he casually refused Steve’s hand in favour of making his own path.

“But that might just be because I’m pretty boring,” Steve admitted, watching Eddie as he struggled through the snow. 

It was denser than Eddie had realized, and he regretfully had pants that were not suited for this kind of weather. He didn’t exactly want to get them wet, since they had another twenty minutes of walking left.

“You’re not—boring,” Eddie huffed, awkwardly shifting and sticking his arms out to balance himself so he wouldn’t fall over. “You’re a badass. B-A-D-D… ass.”

He was concentrating on not falling and not paying attention at all to the fact that he had spelled ‘bad’ wrong. Eddie had at least made it to the crest of the drift, but now he was regretting his trajectory.

“And now I’m boring,” Steve said lightly. He reached for Eddie and grabbed his waist, hoisting him up easily enough and depositing him on the road. The move almost looked practised—like Steve was in a ballet and Eddie was some damsel leaping from the porch and into his lover’s arms so they could do the two-step for an audience. Really, the effort on Steve’s part hadn’t been too great, but it was still mind-blowingly hot. 

“I like it that way.”

Steve was still talking, saying something about being boring and how he liked that his life was much simpler now. He’d had enough adventure for a lifetime in the span of 3 years, and he was content to have people think he was dull. Unfazed and unbothered by the notion that someone would dismiss him out of hand or think of him as ‘uncool.’

Eddie was just admiring him and wondering how anyone could look at Steve and think he was boring. 

“What’re you going to do when I become famous?” Eddie asked, his words dreamy and distracted sounding.

Steve looked at him properly, and Eddie could see his boyfriend’s eyes scanning his face.

“Do I have to be famous too?” Steve asked, sounding vaguely amused.

“You’re good-looking,” Eddie shrugged, “you’d sell tabloids.”

“I think you’re good-looking enough to sell your own tabloid,” Steve retorted, teasing, but obviously flattering Eddie of purpose.

Eddie glanced away again, but this time there was less smiling and more shame. He was shy still, but insecurity etched into his brain thinking about himself plastered across a magazine cover.

“I don’t know… might be a bit hard convincing everyone of that,” Eddie said quietly, “cause…”

Eddie gestured vaguely at his jaw, motioning toward the scar that jutted up his neck and along his jaw. The skin was ropey and stretched looking since the wound had healed poorly, and he didn’t have the money for plastic surgery to fix it. Instead, he just hid the mar with his hair and tried to forget about it when he was in public. It was an insecurity, and Eddie feared that even in the metal scene he wouldn’t be palatable. Before the attack, he had sort of always relied on being decent-looking in order to help his career along, especially when he did his eye makeup for the stage. 

He wished it didn’t bother him. 

“How many times do I have to tell you this?”

Steve’s words were soft, and they pulled Eddie’s attention as he flicked his gaze up toward his boyfriend.

Steve was reaching forward, and Eddie flushed slightly as Steve ran cold fingers over the side of his neck and then soothed his thumb along Eddie’s jaw. He was touching the scar even though that spot had dulled nerves. He was touching the scar and staring at Eddie with such gentle affection that Eddie’s breath hitched. 

Two years. Two years and just a look from Steve could make Eddie feel weightless.

“You’re gorgeous…” Steve complimented, his eyes flicked across Eddie’s face as if he was taking all of him in. He truly looked captivated, and Eddie couldn’t help but stare back at Steve with stunned awe; his eyes large and his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest. 

“If someone is bothered by this,” Steve commented, running his thumb over the scar again, “then they’re an idiot. Plus, it’s badass, right?”

Eddie huffed a small breath at Steve’s comment, feeling as if he had to deny the compliment, but also feeling incredibly touched by the reassurance. He wasn’t sure if that was right, but Steve didn’t seem to bat an eye at his scars-–and not in an effort to ignore them, either. 

Instead of looking away this time, Eddie glanced down the road both ways. It was night, and the wind had let up, making way for lazy snowflakes to fall silently down on Hawkins. No one was out, and it was late enough that even the windows of people’s porches were out. No one would recognize him anyway. 

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and ducked in for a kiss, feeling terribly romantic as he indulged in the slow affection.

Steve didn’t resist in the least, and Eddie sighed through his nose as Steve wrapped his other arm around Eddie’s middle and continued to stroke along the scar on his face. 

They stayed like that for a while, kissing quietly, until eventually Eddie brushed his lips against Steve’s cheek and tucked into his neck for a warm embrace.

“You tired?” Steve asked against his ear, kissing the side of his hat where his ear should be. He dropped his other hand to Eddie's waist and swayed them slightly, leaving lingering kisses against Eddie’s temple now and again.

Eddie just nodded slowly; the exhaustion of the day had caught up to him, and he felt like crawling into a warm bed with Steve and snuggling up as close as possible to him. Eddie was so in love… he was so in love, and Steve took such good care of him. There was no one else in the world that he loved more than Steve, and it baffled Eddie still that Steve felt the same way about him.

“Come on,” Steve said gently, slowly breaking their embrace and taking Eddie’s hand to lead him down the street.

Eddie lamely fell in behind his boyfriend and pressed against the back of his shoulder so he could half lean his cheek on Steve’s shoulder while they walked.

Everything felt so wonderful and warm despite the bitter cold. They were still ten minutes away from the trailer, but Eddie didn’t really mind all that much. It almost felt like he could doze off with how slowly he was shuffling with Steve. The holiday season had never been one of relaxation for Eddie before he started dating Steve, but now he felt like maybe he could relate to all those crummy Christmas movies and how love and peace they were. Steve made everything feel a bit brighter.

Gods… he loved this man. In all Eddie’s years on this godforsaken planet, he never thought he’d be so lucky as to date a man like Steve Harrington. 

[driftingvoid-155]

Do you have any good fnaf Fan fiction recommendations?

Oh lord, where do I even begin lol. There’s so many good ones out there.

His Empire of Dirt by pearlandpine. One of my favorites. Made me feel emotions I didn’t even know I had. 10/10. Basically, time travel Michael fic who goes back in time and tries to change the path that his father is on.

Eye of the Hurricane by ghostlychances ( @gh0stlychances ). If you like jeremike, I cannot recommend this one enough. Another one of my favs and don’t let the large word count scare you. Everyone of those chapters is an absolute banger that will leave you wanting more. Really dives into the lives of Mike and Jeremy and their relationship together as Mike tries and hunts down his dad. I also recommend this authors other fnaf fics too. They’re all so good.

Literally all of Lucius01 ( @panaramic-art ) fics. Idk how they do it but every single one of their aus is amazing and immediately draws me in and every chapter they post has me running to ao3. I think my favorite of theirs tho is Life of a Living Corpse as it’s the fic that actually got me hooked on jeremike as a couple.

Caught to the Bone, the Rise of Foxtrap by Shadow_Joker ( @shadowjokerao3 ). AU where when working in fazbear frights, William actually manages to get the better of Mike and traps him in an old springlock Foxy suit which he then possesses. I absolutely love the concept and the author does such an amazing job writing it. I also recommend their other fics as well, they have plenty more fnaf ones and they’re all must reads in my eyes.

Yes, We Take Walk-Ins by IDs_Fantasy & LizardsInTheGarden. I love the concept of Mike being like ‘huh, what can I do to fix what Ennard did to me’ and deciding going to a taxidermist was his best option. Every chapter of that fic is an absolute treat and I await anymore that the authors decide to write.

PSA: Don’t Let Stupid Dead People Run Pizzerias by Quetzal1553. Literally one of the funniest crack aus I’ve ever read. Plot is basically Michael fucking up running the pizzeria in fnaf 6 in every way possible. Leaves my dying laughing every time I reread it.

Left Undone by PetePepsi. Fic that focuses on Mike and a crew, which includes Phone Dude, building and running Fazbear Frights. It’s not too far along but I’m already hooked on the concept and eagerly await any updates.

You Won’t Die (You Never Have Before) by PrinceJakeFireCake. Another half crack fic that I love to pieces. Immortal Mike who just dies constantly and gets up and walks away from it each time, completely unbothered.

Lights! Camera! Action! by AshstoAshs. Fic that was recently recommended to me that I absolutely tore through reading. After being scooped, Mike possesses Funtime Chica and from there escapes and runs into Jeremy who decides to try and help him out.

Breaking and Reentering by biteof22. Just some Jeremike shenanigans of them breaking back into sister location.

William D’Afton: A Less Terrible Father (Than His Contemporaries) by PrinceJakeFireCake. Chaotic Michael, clueless Will, ‘would help his bff hide a body if that body is the neighbor he hates’ Henry. Everything is chaos here and it is great. I would literally read a million more words of this AU if the author decided to write it.

People Like Him by WTFGayLittleZooid. Fic where the night shift workers of fnaf Mike, Jeremy, and Fritz all meet up to talk about their time spent surviving five nights at Freddy’s. One of the first fnaf fics I ever read and one I go back to reread ever so often.

Sorry this got long. There’s just so many that I love and so many I didn’t even get to add here seeing as my bookmarked fnaf fics total over a hundred lol. I do hope that if you’re looking for something to read, one of these manages to catch your eye :)

[envihellbender]

Avatars/John bad times nc jamboree (Lonely!Martin included or not up to you)

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Jonathon Sims, Elias Bouchard, Mike Crew, Simon Fairchild, Michael The Distortion, Annabelle Cane, Peter Lukas, Jude Perry, Nikola Orsinov, Hezekiah Wakely, Maxwell Rayner, Daisy Tanner, Jane Prentiss, Jared Hopworth, Oliver Banks, Martin Blackwood

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, 18+

Content: trans man John Sims (yes trans men on T get prostate tissue look it up), heavy noncon, I’m serious - dead dove do not eat, breeding, oral, torture, genital torture, somnophilia (maybe?), restraints, riding crop, spiders, teratophilia, candle wax, rimming, sex from an invisible guy, breast torture, wound fucking, rats, buried alive, gore, sensory deprivation, misgendering, force feminisation of a trans man, brief CSA implication (nothing explicit or mention), worms, being fucked by worms, bone fucking, body horror, cervix penetration

Elias Bouchard / The Eye

“Well, well, John,” Elias taunted as he ran one finger down John’s terrified face. The Archivist tried to squirm away but the bonds around his wrists kept him tied to the bed and unable to do much other than struggle and make the bed creak. The last thing he knew they had been in Elias’s office, now it seemed he was in a similarly furnished bedroom, all polished oak and green silks.

“This- this isn’t real. It’s a dream you forced into my head it’s not real,” John said to himself desperately. “It’s not-”

“I hope telling yourself that does make the process easier for you, I really do John,” Elias hummed as he undressed. He approached John, placing himself between his legs. In return John squirmed and kicked, desperate to get free. Elias crushed John’s thin, scrawny body beneath his rendering him helpless. He positioned John’s legs onto his shoulders, stretching them out unnaturally far, and pressed his whole body weight down onto him until his ankles were next to his ears. John could feel Elias’s hard cock at his hole, mocking him, telling him at any moment he was about to be impaled as John knew his cunt wasn’t aroused or wet enough. He knew Elias had no intention of using any form of lubrication.

“This position,” Elias hissed. “Is colloquially known as ‘mating press’ if you’re a good boy, I’ll make sure not to use this to my advantage. Unless you’d like to get fat from my seed, John?” The Archivist shook his head, rather frantically to Elias’s amusement. “A shame, truly. Now, let’s get on with things. You have quite a few to see to tonight.” John swallowed and stared at the ceiling, hoping Elias was bluffing.

Mike Crew / The Vast

The next one was Mike Crew, who snorted with laughter as he saw John with his wrists tied up, and his body sore and shaking. He was left in just his white work shirt, it was stained with his own blood but he was undressed otherwise - cum dripping down his thighs. Mike didn’t say anything about the display, just walked around the bed, poking and pulling at John whenever he thought it necessary. Eventually, he climbed on top of John, and sat cross-legged on his chest.

“Hey. Archivist,” Mike began. He prodded John’s cheek curiously. “Apparently I get to do whatever I want with you now. So long as you stay in this room. And stay alive. Which limits us a bit.”

“Mike,” John grunted. He clenched his teeth, clearly not willing to chat before the event.

“Personally,” Mike continued with a smirk, clearly enjoying seeing John beneath him. “I wanted to rape you on top of your apartment building. Have you bent over the railings, where the only thing stopping you from hitting the road below in a bloody splat is me.”

“Sorry me being left at your mercy isn’t quite on your terms.” John’s sarcastic tone was met with a pale thin, wrist around his throat.

“That’s why I’m going to save that for next time. For now, I’m just going to use that snarky, shitty little mouth of yours. See how those nice blowjob lips look around my cock.” Mike shuffled a little too quickly, pulling down his belt and jeans and then the torment began.

Simon Fairchild / The Vast

After Mike had used him, John was surprised to discover his bonds disappeared. He sat up on the single bed that creaked with every movement to see Simon Fairchild on the other side of the room. There he sat, with a smug, infuriating smile on his lips, and before either of them could say anything. The room changed. The walls no longer existed and it looked as if they had ridden miles into the air, the clouds beneath them and planes rushing past as the air was so thin John felt his chest grow tight as his lungs protested. Whilst his focus was on that, the vast empty surroundings and the cold air biting him, he hadn’t even noticed that Simon Fairchild sat delicately in the bed until his hand was on his thigh.

“You are rather handsome you know, Archivist, almost like a scarred battle veteran from the days of old… not literally of course, you’re much smaller, skinnier, and frailer. But you have the eyes and skin for it,” Simon hummed, his pale eyes narrowed like a hawk about to lunge for a hare.

“Can we just get this over with?” John mumbled, his body aching and tired. Gusts of wind kept rushing through the room and even though he knew he was in no danger he still gripped to the side of the bed.

“Oh come now, Archivist, you know me better than that.” Simon grabbed John by the throat, resulting in the room disappearing and him hanging in the air. He felt his stomach lurch, twisting as his limbs became restrained through air pressure alone and the ice cold wind was like daggers in his skin. His mind stopped. He couldn’t think or process anything, it was as if he had vertigo to such an extreme level. It felt like his brain had frostbite. The only thing he was aware of was when Simon’s breath was in his ear and he whispered: “fancy joining the, what do you call it, ah, yes! The mile high club?”

Michael / The Distortion

John was still shaking when Michael appeared, through a door that materialised as if from nowhere. He was almost relieved, at least this time the room would remain on the ground. Michael waltzed in, his head unnaturally tilted and his grin terrifyingly wide. He wandered over, phasing in and out of reality with each step, his body becoming a colourful, static, glitch every time his foot hit the ground. John wasn’t in restraints any more, but him being shaky, weak, and covered in blood, as well as two portions of semen in his cunt and one in his gut, meant he wasn’t keen to move anywhere very fast.

“Whatever you plan on doing can you do it quick,” John groaned, curling up on himself. Martin appeared at the end of his bed, he didn’t seem to have any instruments or equipment with him but before John knew it he was on his back with his legs held up. He had a speculum forced into his cunt. He felt his genitalia be stretched so far it made his eyes water and him suck in on his teeth.

“that IS BETter, aRCHIvist,” Michael giggled. “I preFER it WHEN you ARE quiET.” He kept chuckling as John’s cheeks became wet with tears. He shoved his fingers inside of John, every single one of them, and filled him with his own blood. If John had asked Michael couldn’t explain how. All he knew is that John’s Cunt was filling up with blood until his gut began to swell. “You KNOW, sEX has NevER interestED ME much. BUT torTure… that IS fun.”

Annabelle Cane / The Web

Annabelle Crane was almost a welcome relief, John sighed and let his body relax into the bed. At least dream logic meant that his injuries were healed and his body was cleaned from Michael. However, it wasn’t long that John felt his a black tape, from the very tapes he recorded statements with suddenly appear and wrap around his wrists and ankles. They pulled his limbs away from him, tightly meaning any movement would dislocate a knee or shoulder. John took deep breaths and try not to panic. Annabelle Cane appeared with a mischievous smile, and a riding crop. She lightly tapped Jonathon’s gut, which was covered in a filthy, blood stained, white shirt.

“My my, they’ve certainly left a mess for me, haven’t they?” She grinned.

“Ugh. Hello Annabelle,” Jonathon groaned. He gasped and winced as the riding crop hit his gut.

“You will speak when spoken to,” she said simply. She then transformed before his eyes, long black haired legs grew from her back, gigantic spider’s limbs covered in black hairs. She used them to crawl on top of John, settling between his legs with the touch making him whine and cry out.

“Annabelle. Please. Not- not like this,” he begged. Annabelle chuckled, and let one hairy appendage stroke his cunt before her human arm smacked his genitalia with a riding crop.

“What did I just say, Archivist?” She said sternly. She giggled as Jonathon whimpered as she began to roughly fuck his cunt with one long, spindly black limb. She pushed until she reached his cervix, and then kept going.

Peter Lukas / The Lonely

The room was silent, and perhaps that should have relaxed John - being alone and without any avatar to beat and rape him… But this part of the dream was always different. It was always uncertain. He knew Peter Lukas was next, he was waiting somewhere. Suddenly, a thick fog filled the room, slowly until John couldn’t even see his own restrained body. He knew better than to call out, Lukas enjoyed that, and John not admitting his fear would infuriate him. Suddenly, John felt his restrained legs be released, he struggled, he couldn’t see anyone. He could only feel two calloused hands on his thighs shoving them backwards and causing John to fold painfully.

“Do hold still, John,” a faux-cheerful voice said. One that sounded strangely caring despite having not one iota of care and compassion in it. Peter Lukas. Before John could respond he felt a thick, wet tongue inside of his arsehole. He gasped and whined, hating how it felt almost… good. He felt tears fall down his face as he felt his swollen from testosterone clitoris grow painfully hard. He felt like his insides were being eaten my Peter Lukas. Owned. As if he had slit open his gut and began fucking his guts. John unwillingly orgasmed, his body betraying him, but that made everything far more sensitive. He tried to kick Peter Lukas from his body as he the sensation grew painful. He sighed in relief as Peter pulled away, his bleary vision making it even harder to see through the fog. Somehow there were hands on him, a body crushing him, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Well, that should be enough, I think,” Peter said finally, without a word he forced his cock into John’s arsehole. No lubrication beyond his own spit, and no warning. John cried out, his throat raw, and hated himself for it.

Jude Perry / The Desolation

“Hey there, Archivist,” Jude Perry said with a sinister smirk as she looked down at John’s ruined body, he was covered in cum, his own blood, and was starting to bruise. His body shaking in pain, exhaustion, and cold.

“Jude,” he said hoarsely. He tightened his lips and looked away, Jude never cleaned him up in this nightmare. She wanted him broken.

“The very same. Personally I find this whole thing a bit gross, and you’re not really my type you know? But… a chance to torture the Archivist? Sign me up.”

“Of course. Well. Get it over with,” John grunted, feeling numb to any possible torture that could follow.

Jude straddled John’s torso and began groping his breasts. He flinched and squirmed uncomfortably, and she pulled and twisted his nipples, at first John thought it wasn’t too bad until Jude turned up the heat… Literally. He felt the burning sensation against his nipples first, then he smelt the burning flesh of his breast tissue.

“God, you scream, far too much,” Jude groaned, rolling her eyes. She released John’s chest and melted candle wax dropped from her fingers leaving splotches on his skin - bright orange and searing. Until she got to his mouth, then she let it drip onto his lips, giggling as he screamed and yelled - it sounded like gargling as his tongue and throat filled with the burning hardening substance. He quickly stopped screaming, purely because it was physically impossible. Eventually it filled him, all the way down to his digestive system until it came out of his mouth covering the lower half of his face.

“That should shut you up, now if it’s alright with you Archvist, I’m gonna wank over your tits. Feel free to say no!” Jude cackled as she watched John be unable to move or speak, only tears fall from his eyes.

Nikola Orsinov / The Stranger

Nikola didn’t want John tied to a bed, and she wanted him clean and fresh. So when this section of the forced nightmare Elias concocted appeared, he didn’t hurt at all. His body had healed, his holes had not been violated, and he was instead, sat tied to a chair with the horrifying mannequin masquerading as a human in front of him. Her smile and inhuman face haunted him more than anything, the memory of this section of the dream was hazy but he remembered her face and smile.

“Good Evening, ARCHIVIST,” Nikola said, her movements towards John angular and awkward. “What Should I Do With You?”

“You could let me go,” John suggested sardonically. Nikola laughed her disjointed laugh, one that scratched against John’s bones.

“ALWAYS So Funny, ARCHIVIST. As You Know, Mannequins Are Not Built For This Particular Activity.” She knelt down, and tore John’s shirt open. She tutted as she saw his gut. “You Do Take TERRIBLE Care Of Your Skin, ARCHIVIST.” She slit open his stomach, causing him to scream out - his throat no longer hoarse and sore. She pushed her cold fingers, with the softness of skin but the hardness of plastic inside of the wound. As she began brutally fingering John’s stomach. She penetrated the wound, pulled it open, and let his stomach acid drip down his gut, onto his pubic hair and eventually fall onto his clitoris causing him to whine. Nikola giggled, the noise far too close to John’s skull which felt as if a rat was digging it’s way into his cranium.

“SUCH Cute Little Noises You Make ARCHIVIST,” Nikola hummed. “Maybe This Will Be Fun.”

Hezekiah Wakely / The Buried

“What a sweet boy,” Hezekiah said softly. John flinched and struggled. He hadn’t felt the presence so close to him until now. The coffin was chained shut and buried deep, deep within the earth. No one else should be able to fit inside with him but there was a hard, cold body next to him. Arms around his chest and a heavy, foul breath covering his face. He felt long thin hands grope at his body, as a rodent began crawling over his chest. A rat, John thought based on the tail.

“Hezekiah,” John said finally, his breath stilted and strained. “What a lovely home you have,” he added sarcastically.

“Thank you, Archivist, I made it just for you,” Hezekiah responded. He pushed two fingers into John’s mouth, who winced and repressed a wretch at the taste of dirt. He began fucking John’s throat with his fingers until he threw up, vomiting a yellow substance that had chunks of mud matted inside it. John felt the rat by his thigh, scratching and nibbling at his skin. Hezekiah’s hands gently massaged his breasts, carefully rolled a thumb over his nipple. John’s breathing grew heavy and he whined. He hated how tender and sweet it was. The affection made it worse. The way Hezekiah kissed his neck, gently nipping and how his hands made their way down to John’s trousers. He unbuttoned them, his filthy fingers finding John’s labia and prying it open. Softly fingering him, the dirt sticking to his cunt as the rat left his new wounds alone and made its way to his stomach. Deciding this was a better place to nibble and bury.

“Please, please stop,” John whimpered as he felt Hezekiah’s fingers masterfully rub against his g-spot and stretch open his cunt. He hated how it made him into such a weak, quivering wreck. Perhaps it was how the rat had now buried a nest in his stomach, a wound that leaked and weeped as the rat began nibbling at his organs, or maybe it was how Hezekiah touched him like a gentle lover.

“Not until my seed is filling your sweet womb,” he said, pulling down John’s trousers and pressing his cock between his thin thighs.

Maxwell Rayner / The Dark

John was back in the bed, the dirt, vomit, blood, viscera, stomach acid, and urine that had been staining his body had now disappeared. His shirt and trousers were clean, and not torn. There were no longer gaping holes in his thigh and stomach, his skin clear and unharmed as it had been - scars not withstanding. He allowed himself to relax for a moment, however that turned out to be more short lived than he’d expected when the light in the room suddenly vanished. It wasn’t as if someone had turned the lights off, it was pure emptiness. The windows no longer let any street lamps in, or lights from passing cars. John’s eyes couldn’t even adjust, he attempt to lift his hand to discover he couldn’t as he was restrained. He looked down instead, not able to even make out a shape of his torso. It was time for the Dark it seemed. Maxwell Rayner.

“Maxwell?” John said, he never really found the dark scary as such. However, being restrained inside it with a terrifying rapist ready to torture him? That was a different matter entirely. He heard movement, and his head snapped around pointlessly. Nothing. Suddenly, there was a weight on top of him, heavy pungent breath coating his face.

“Archivist. Jonathon, yes? No. Tonight you will be… Clara,” Maxwell said sinisterly. John stopped breathing for a moment, Maxwell so casually using his birth name made his blood run cold. Not to mention the implications given who Maxwell’s usual prey was.

“How did you- that’s not- no.” John felt pathetic as he spluttered, as if he had earned Maxwell’s snort of laughter. He ran one finger down John’s face and gently stroked his cheek.

“Shush, don’t get so worked up, Clara darling,” Maxwell mocked, John didn’t have to see his face - he could hear his smirk.

“I’m not worked up, I’m perfectly calm. I’m simply telling you that’s not who I am-” John was silenced as a rough hand grabbed his breasts, as always in this dream he wasn’t wearing a binder. They were on display, and John swore they weren’t normally this big. He was quite small chested, but Maxwell seemed to have a generous handful.

“Mhm, whatever you say, sweetheart,” Maxwell hummed as he roughly groped his breasts and began grinding his cock against John’s cunt.

Daisy Tanner / The Hunt

John sighed in relief when the light returned, and especially when his wrists were free. He sat up, massaging where they had been bound and caused his muscles to ache. Stood at the end of his bed in a sports bra, a gun harness with two police regulation handguns inside, and blood stained jogging bottoms was Daisy Tanner. Her starburst scar on display, and her short blonde hair soaked with sweat. When Daisy turned around, John knew instantly she was taken over by the Hunt - just as she was every night. Her eyes were narrowed, her toned body larger and more striking. Her teeth were bared, pointed and sharp. She began pacing like a lion analysing it’s prey.

“Daisy, I- I know it’s not real but it’s good to see you,” John said hastily, shakily getting to his feet and not taking his eyes from Daisy. She didn’t say a word, simply continued pacing. John took a step closer, feeling foolish - he couldn’t reason with a dream. “I- I know you’ve… not exactly you anymore but-” Daisy growled and took a step towards him. “Okay. So you’re just.. going to… right.” John backed away, bumping into the door behind him.

“You should be dead,” Daisy growled as she pounced, her claw-like nails gripped John’s throat pulling him onto the bed. She held tightly, causing blood to seep down his skin. She tore a hole causing blood to start filling up his windpipe, John choked and spluttered, only surviving since he couldn’t die. Elias had insisted upon it. Daisy left him there for a moment, chuckling to herself as she ripped off John’s trousers and underwear. She let them fall into rags beneath him, and smoothly pulled a gun from it’s holster. She watched and smirked as she slipped the weapon inside his cunt, shoving it in as deep as it would go. Enjoying seeing John scream, yell, and struggle as she raped him with the gun her police sergeant had entrusted just to her.

Jane Prentiss / The Corruption

John let his body fall into the bed when Daisy left, his breath heavy and his limbs exhausted. He wasn’t looking forward to hers in particular given their history, it was always different every night. The Corruption however was always on a similar line. And it started with a silver worm dropping from the window.

All John could think when the worms began appearing in the room, was thank god it wasn’t spiders. They wriggled in from under the door, the windows, and down the walls. John knew this meant Jane Prentiss was arriving, and since she enjoy a filthy, corrupted body the blood and scars from Daisy still soaked his body. The worms got to John first, no matter how much he struggled they bit into his flesh, burying and scaring him all over again. He saw them crawl under skin, moving strange lumps making him want to claw at his arm and rip them out. He felt them all over his body, crawling into his mouth, his cunt, and his arsehole. He gasped and struggled. He squirmed, kicked his legs, arms and screamed out. He felt them inside his throat, his larynx, and falling down his digestive system to suck on the inside of his gut. They were stuffed inside his cunt and asshole, crowed and wet. They were sucking on his cervix, his prostate, his g-spot, his and clitoris. John could barely open his eyes, feeling his body go through intense pain, alongside orgasming which made the agony and violation even worse.

When his eyes finally were able to flutter open he saw a familiar shape at the end of his bed. Still just as rotten and infested as before. Jane Prentiss. Her neck was bent at an awkward, unnatural angle. She had a smile which look as if someone had cut from one eyebrow to the other with sharp teeth filling the gap. When John tried to speak, she let out a screeching noise which caused the worms bite harder, digging into his flesh. They dug through his vaginal canal and his skin, into his intestines, and roamed through his body.

Jared Hopworth / The Flesh

John sighed in relief when his skin and body returned to normal, no blood, no residual worms, no bruises… and most thankfully he was no longer in agony. However, that would soon change. Jared was next, and John knew he most enjoyed a blank canvas to work with. He winced the moment he heard the loud footsteps outside of the door, and sure enough Jared’s large, uneven, oddly shaped frame was stood there. His tongue licking his lips as he threw his weight behind one foot then the other. He made a strange shifting sound as he walked, as if his muscles and bones weren’t quite stable within his body. John didn’t say a word just stared as Jared approached, who smirked and leered like he’d done this a thousand times before.

Jared sat on the bed, causing it to creek and groan, the slats sinking all the way to the ground. John attempted to escape, his bonded wrists making it a fool’s errand. He felt a large, bumpy hand grab his ankle and pull him towards Jared.

“Come on now, don’t be such a pussy,” he growled.

“I’m- I’m not- it’s normal to not wish to be raped,” John replied indignantly.

“Well, I’m going to fucking destroy you, and you’ll have no little boyfriend around to help you disappear this time.” On that Jared ripped John’s clothes from his body. “Shall I take another rib? Yeah, from the other side, even it out.” John yelled and gasped as Jared shoved his hand inside John’s flesh. He roughly pulled out a rib, and grinned. “You have such pretty bones, you know that?” The viscera, blood, and body fat dripped down his hand and arm. “Clean it for me, yeah?” He shoved it inside John’s mouth causing him to gag, wretch, and his throat to spasm. Jared pulled it out causing John’s to vomit all over his front and cover the soiled bone in bile. “Ah. Well. Least it’s lubed up, yeah?”

Before John could ask what he meant, he discovered by feeling the sharp, repulsive implement invading his cunt. He felt his entire body stiffen and curl up, the sharp edges cutting his insides and the heavy ragged end slamming against his cervix. His face became wet with tears and he felt blood gather in his throat from his screams. Jared didn’t relent, he continued until he felt the flesh give way, pushing the bone through John’s cervix into his womb.

Oliver Banks / The End

John had somehow fallen asleep after Jared’s attack, he found his body healed and clean afterwards. He sighed softly, feeling inherently warm and comfortable. Perhaps he had woken up after all? No. This wasn’t his room, not his bed, Martin was not curled up next to him. He sighed, of course. Oliver hated seeing him harmed and hurting, the figment would be so loving whilst it was his turn. As if that made what was about to occur any better. At least this time he awoke before Oliver’s attack started, usually he was still asleep. He felt the long wandering arms touch his body, and John signed, remaining stiff and cold.

“It would be a lot easier if you lent into it, you know,” Oliver said, his hand slipping beneath John’s pyjama bottoms and teasing his pubic hair.

“Oliver. You know I would not enjoy it either way, just hurry up. It’s been a long night,” John sighed.

“I suppose that’s the problem with coming last, huh?” Oliver began fingering John’s hole, which whilst was physically unharmed John still winced from the memories of violation that had occurred again and again that night. “I don’t want this either.”

“Then stop.”

“I can’t. This isn’t real, remember? The real Oliver wouldn’t even be in the room. But your brain? The thoughts Elias put in here? They’ve got to keep going until the job is done. Sorry.”

“Fine. Just. Be quick.”

“I’ll try. You’re not really enticing me though, which would help,” Oliver mumbled as he straddled John’s body. Somehow, the kisses on his neck, caresses, and the gentle way Oliver slowly pushed his cock into John’s cunt somehow makes it so much worse.

BONUS: Hurt/Comfort Martin / The Lonely

John awoke with a start, reaching out to his surroundings. He felt Martin’s warm arm first, then his pillow, and he opened his eyes to see his forest pattern bedding. He sighed and turned onto his side, wrapping his arm around Martin and holding tight as he buried his face into his soft warm back. He didn’t know whether it was his right grip or the crying that awoke Martin. Either way he turned around and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. His previously black curls were streaked a shocking white, they fell in front of his face as he slowly woke up. He didn’t technically need to sleep now, not since Peter Lukas… but it felt normal, nice even. He gave a sad smile as he saw John curl into his side.

“The dream again?” Martin asked, holding John as close as he could whilst still being gentle. All John did was nod, and Martin kissed the top of his head. “You’re safe, love. Just us two here. Just us two and no one else.” John whimpered and shuffled closer, resting his head on top of Martin’s chest. His head heavy as he desperately wished they had a normal, happy life.

[wewebaggit]

What exactly is piggyback?(/gen /strange)

So like this is a question and well whatever the hell I'm thinking about piggyback and just in general the logistics of S4 battles.

Rambly. Not even trying not to be.

So. So far when El has "fought" monsters it's been physically. She was in their presence. RU/UD.

For piggyback she is fighting vecna in a middle plane. Okay how?

She resuscitated Max also while not being physically present there.

She only made herself visible to Will before in S1 in the void. And afaik he is the only one who could actually interact with her in the void apart from the demogorgon. So maybe we can say anyone connected to the hivemind can break into the void and set up 2 way comms. Also Terry. But she could herself also void walk I'm supposing.

An outlier is Heather. Who says help me and is then taken under into a bottomless bathtub. (Probably showing her getting sucked by the mind flayer journey) But how did she see El? Or did she see her precisely cuz she was mid turning? Then why did El not see Billy around? Maybe he wasn't. Also El never sees the flesh monster in the void. Always face to not face.

In other cases it's El being a spectator. There was the one line about Mike "sensing" her in the void. But it is neither here nor there. He was holding a walkie. He did say Eleven before she said Mike but I'm still unsure of how much relevance that has. GENUINELY. Clueless.

Her and veccy have a mind fight which affects her physically while vecna himself is not affected physically until the Hawkins crew molotovs his ass and shoots him. He does FEEL pain in his mind lair through the hive mind but physically he's still doing aerial yoga until the crew double fries him.

Also seen in s2 that what happens to the hive mind can affect you in that in can make you feel pain but it does not PHYSICALLY harm you. Everyone burns you feel the burn but you don't actually burn. As they were trynna get the shadow particles out oh his body. They first try to boil him or whatever. But b4 that he felt pain when the military/police burned the vines n he fell on the field. Now towards the end. The vine burning started way before the shadow monster was out of Will and it seemed like it got out once the tunnels started burning. Which begs the question why was Will boiled at all? Or why did his paladin not give a fuck after making a whole show and dance about how if the hivemind dies will dies. Which again. Makes no sense. Cuz Will's still in there? So either you wait for the monster to detach itself fully before you start burning the tunnels or it does not matter and the monster would've left anyway. Did not save Will from any pain AT ALL.

Mike went in to save his bbygal El. Sorry but Will was not even on his mind. He wanted to be a hero. As he usually does and if he doesn't get to do that he gets pissy. But bro your soulmate or whatever could've died. Hoes before other hoes I guess.

Anyway. Back to the piggyback. Veccy started losing his hold on the hivemind after a multipronged multinational attack on the hivemind. And El too blasted him with the power of turu lob. But it was only when he was flambed and tandoored and flung like a rumali roti was he physically damaged. (Not destroyed tho cuz of his trace mineral rich diet in the UD)

So now another question. I've lost track. How tf did El restart Max's heart in the void? Max was not even present mentally. Deadest of dead. N then through the void here comes El giving her life because.... because.... erm .... hea.....

Also unrelated. Did max not lose her eyes cuz El blasted Veccy off before he could perform the world's worst lobotomy? Or? What's the difference? Since that's the last/2nd last in the sequence. Even her jaw is spared. So I guess yeah he was interrupted. He could take her life but not her jawline.

Sooooo. Any help is appreciated.

[lemon-boy-stan]

end scene - finn wolfhard x reader

The reader is filming a deleted scene which sparks trauma. Warnings: SUPER ANGSTY LIKE SERIOUSLY, crying finn, mentions of death, mentions of sex (at the end), abuse, mentions of alcohol and swearing. And also long paragraphs. Lower case.

finn was the only person who knew about your trauma and cared - your mother had a boyfriend and moved on.

the car crash was your burden and catalyst to your inconsistent episodes which was why, every time you rehearsed the scene with him, finn made sure you were okay and that you knew he didn't mean it.

millie was good at being dead. she'd lay there, under the rubble, not moving a limb - she looked so lifeless like that that you were positive a passer-by would rush over to help her.

except there were no passer-bys, just you, your boyfriend, cast and crew and the CGI.

but yet it still looked so real - and it reminded you of her that much - of the car, the crash, the rubble, debris, anger that left your father's mouth afterwards, the deafening silence of your mother who stood and watched in the hospital...

mentally, you forced yourself to shake it off. the memory had obviously tuned the other cast members out.

"it wasn't her fault!" noah screeched - finn appeared to be approaching you, a look of mad and sadness in his eyes (which did not seem to be for you but hurt you anyway) kindling dangerously.

"we can still save her," he turned back from you to her "dead" body, "we can still save her! nancy! nancy. do you know cpr? does anyone know cpr? steve? johnathan? even you, billy?"

"even you?!" sadie shrieked. darce shot her a look and shook his head as if billy was telling her to pick her battles.

"anyone?" finn talked over her. "please. someone help me! she can't die here. she won't die here! i won't let it!" his words and voice were exactly the same as every other time you rehearsed it alone.

you continued to stare at the nothingness that wavered around him as natalia and everyone else remained quiet.

finn darted to you with the corner of his eye before recovering again, "we can still save her!" the rest of the cast waited.

'we can't', mouthed charlie, you'd forgotten your line by a beat. SHIT. finn frowned - something was fishy.

"we can't," you said softly, quickly. finn exhaled invisibly and silently. "f - mike. mike, el said - she told me - she said she was sorry and she said she - "

he cut you off just like every other time, "what good," he began, breathing through his nose, "is an apology," silence, the rest of the cast who were watching liked it, "if she's dead?! please! someone help me!"

no one helped him.

"come on," he begged the world, "come on. el. el. wake up. wake up. wake up!" he shook millie's body as if shaking a dead person would wake them up, kind of like how your father shook your sister in the hospital bed even though the nurse said that shaking her would make things worse.

"el," he choked back, "no. el. el." the fake tears hurt you more than they normally would have.

finn was your boyfriend and you could normally tell the difference between his fake and real emotions and for some reason you couldn't today.

after finn finished crying, he stroked her lifeless hair just like every other time and just like the time your father stroked your sister's before he turned to you.

"YOU were supposed to save HER," he spat the words viciously like every other time, eyes flicking over you with assurance. "but SHE saved YOU! she wasn't supposed to save YOU! you were supposed to die, you were supposed to die! the mindflayer was supposed to get YOU but it got HER! you're not even sorry! none of you are sorry! because if you were sorry, YOU would be DEAD and SHE would be ALIVE!"

you couldn't tell at the time but the words hurt him, too.

"it doesn't work like that!" noah screeched. "she was here first, anyways! she's my sister! eleven understood that so why can't you, mike?!"

"i told you to come up with another plan," he hissed at you, ignoring noah, "but you didn't! you let her die! you let her die, belle! you're a bitch and you let her die!" he yelled over noah.

"i'm sorry," you whispered, to which gaten and the rest of the cast wore a look of amazement - you hated improvising.

finn frowned slightly before going along.

"you're not. fucking. sorry. do you know why?" he waited.

"mike," natalia cut in.

"BECAUSE YOU WOULD BE DEAD! YOU STUPID BITCH, YOU WOULD BE DEAD! BUT YOU KILLED HER!"

"no, she didn't! don't call her that!"

that was the first - and last - time finn had ever called you that or yelled at you. you froze.

"i'm sorry," your lip shook - you didn't have a line just then but the crew liked it. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry,"

"it's your fault she's dead, y/n! you stupid bitch! you killed her! you killed your sister! do you know why you killed her? because you're a mistake! and a murderer! you fucking killed her, you stupid bitch! you can't do anything right, can you, you fucking brat? i saw you yelling at her! 'hurry up, izzy, i'm going to be late!' i told you not to go, didn't i? i told you she can't fucking drive in the fucking rain because she's bipolar and fucking crazy! but you're a brat, y/n, and it's going to be the end of you and everyone around you and even that finn boy, i don't give a fuck how much fucking money he has because you're going to blow him up too like the bomb you are! i don't give a shit how many fucking fans you have, do you hear me? because you. blew. her. UP!"

the nurses stared.

one turned to your mother in her stupid ninties pink dress and pearl necklace as if to say, 'aren't you going to do anything?' but she didn't, she pretended as if everything was fine.

"i'm sorry," you bit back the tears. "i'm sorry,"

"you aren't sorry! because she's dead! you aren't sorry! you're just a bomb!"

you bit your cheek harshly - no one else besides finn noticed.

"i'm sorry," your voice shook, "i'm sorry i killed her i'm sorry i'm sorry please don't - please i'm sorry,"

the crew started giving you looks - knock it off, it was starting to get weird and they didn't want the audience to hate your character.

but you couldn't help it. you didn't want him to hit you and you didn't want the people in the hospital to stare.

but you weren't in the hospital, you were on set, and he wasn't with you, it was finn, but same difference.

because maybe if you said sorry more maybe finn wouldn't unlove you like he did, maybe finn wouldn't hit you like he did.

"i'm sorry it's my fault i'm sorry i'm sorry,"

finn's breath hitched and his adam's apple moved before something washed over him - recognition.

you see, the endless trails of apologies had happened once at his house at night.

"wait!"

gaten threw his arms up at the outburst and the rest of the cast looked dissappointed. this scene was such a good trope for the love triangle between mike el and belle.

"wait - just - just cut. please. she's not acting, i swear this has happened before and i can help her please," he was begging now and the crew sighed and grumbled - everyone was human.

"alright, that's a wrap, we'll film again in a half," they began to leave.

"i'm sorry finn i'm sorry i kill - "

"baby, stop," he put his hands on your shoulders but you just shook your head and kept saying the words anyways, "baby! you don't have to apologise for anything, baby, you didn't kill anyone,"

"but i did kill her, finn!" you sobbed, "i killed her. "i killed my sister because i'm a stupid bitch and a brat who made her sister drive her to her friend's house in the rain," you bit your cheek until there was blood,

"i'm a mistake, finn, i'm sorry i'm a fucking bitch, and i'm sorry i killed them. just please, please don't unlove me, please, everyone who's loved me's unloved me, please i swear i'll do litera - "

"baby, what?" he looked like a puppy who'd just been told off, "why would i unlove you?"

"because i can't do anything right," you shook your head, "and you have to unlove me even though i don't want you to, finn, because i'm a mistake and i'm a fucking bomb, and a bitch. but please, please, i'm sorry, i can't - i can't lose someone else - "

"you're never going to lose me, baby," he whispered. he was shaking, "and you're not a bomb. oh, fuck, the last thing you are is a bomb, y/n. this isn't bullshit. i love you too much to give you bullshit. if he told you that, let me tell you this: you. are. not. a. bomb, baby. you're mine, the farthest thing you are is a bomb, you're a band aid, and a lifeline. you're never going to lose me, i promise i promise."

"but finn," you said, "don't you get it? i'm not a band aid or a lifeline, i'm a bomb. i will blow you up if you don't leave me before you can even though i don't want you to leave me because you're the only person- "

"and i'll keep being the only person," he talked over you and it frustrated you to even more tears, "i don't care if you blow me up. heck, you blew me away the first time. besides, so what if you're a murderer (which you aren't baby it was a fucking accident and he needs to get that through his fucking skull)? i hate myself for bringing up the stupid movie you love y/n but i don't give two shits what he says you've done because a) i know he's a drunk bastard and b) i will always love you baby more than rose loves leo baby i'll always come back to you, always, i'm going to marry you when my parents let me get married and i'm going to always come back to you even if you yell at me to get out because you're my fucking bomb, do you hear me? you're mine and you're a bomb. so what? you're a good bomb."

"please don't unlove me,"

"baby i'll never unlove you ever ever,"

"promise?"

"yes baby i promise y/n i promise just please tell me you're okay and tell me when you're not okay because it kills me baby it kills me so much,"

"okay finn," you mumbled; you didn't want him to cry anymore, "i promise. i'm sorry for ruining the scene," you looked down at your hands.

"hey," he said firmly, lifting your chin up so you were forced to look at him, "scenes can be re-filmed but i'm going to ask them to film a different one okay? but for now please just tell me you're okay baby,"

"i'm okay finn," you sighed. "sorry you had to put up with that and sorry i made you feel shit,"

"you know you make me feel lots of things n/n," he whispered, "and shit is one of them. and i wouldn't have anyone else make me feel anything else, 'cause i love you. even if you blow me up i love you okay? even if you crash me i'll still love you from hell 'cause we all know that's where i'm going..."

"are you talking about the other night?" you looked up, "because the feeling was totally mutual finn we both wanted it you know that don't be a dick,"

"there she is. also, yeah, that night and that time noah walked in on us jesus," he smiled and hugged your neck, "okay, okay, i love you though y/n. god you have no idea how much i love you..."

"i think i do," you replied softly and he smiled into you.

So this is super long but oh god guys I'm still in love with it ahh...

MASTERLIST - requests are ALWAYS open (depending on what fandom it is!)

[thehairtm-a]

          he had come too early.

          it was steve’s fault. steve had forgotten to tell him. you see, unbeknownst to the other guys on his team at HAWKINS HIGH, steve was harboring a deep secret. a secret he shared only with EDDIE “the freak” MUNSON.

          it all started a few months ago; well, steve wasn’t sure how it all began, actually . . . could have been sometime after they ‘accidentally’ practically LADY AND THE TRAMPed that blunt  ( steve claims he doesn’t recall ), but it had proven to be a very slippery slope from there. at some point, eddie had become a nicotine patch, a way of blowing off steam, and well----- from there, they routinely began meeting up in the boy’s locker room long after practice ended, long after everyone had gone home, and sometimes stayed late into the night. eeeevery thursday, on schedule. 

          but THIS thursday, practice had ran late . . . championship games and all. and he had forgotten to tell him. and now eddie was here, standing in the locker room expectantly when the team  ( lead by HARRINGTON )  rounds the corner. and that’s juuuuust about the moment when steve’s stomach falls directly into his ass. son of a bitch.

          ❛ hey, MUNSON—— what the fuck do you think you’re doing, man? ❜   steve be nimble, steve be quick! his hands are on his hips, sweat still dripping from his fringe as he eyeballs his crew from his peripheral vision. his brow is furrowed tight and his eyes blaze with a white hot intensity that may be perceived as inflammatory to anyone who didn’t have context. and as steve ambles forward to confront his hush-hush lover, he can barely lock eyes . . . it isn’t nice what he’s about to do, but he has to. they had appearances to maintain, after all. so steve pushes him into a locker, garnering near HE-MAN qualities with the amount of force, rage, and aggression the situation has incited. TOMMY H., MIKE F., DANNY P. and his league of dickheads stay at a distance, ready to chime in if need be---- and the others were rapidly clotting around them to see the show.

          ❛ if i catch you twiddling your dick in the men’s locker room again? you’re fucking DEAD. GOT THAT? ❜   he’s bellowing, and as if on autopilot, steve can feel his hand wrap around the collar of EDDIE’S jacket to fling him toward the exit, giving a half-hearted shrug to his fellow dickheads. his ears are ringing. his teammates look humored, but confused---- like they’re missing a piece of the puzzle. but they’re still hooting and hollering! and though he can hardly hear anything at all but the blood rushing in his ears, he swears he hears something like, ‘i’m the taking out the trash, don’t wait up!’ leaving his lips.

          he releases eddie when they’re far enough from sight, secluded. he stumbles to a halt, hands to hips as he catches his breath from that NEAR MISS. those looks—— did they suspect?

          it was the least of his problems at present. he had some explaining to do. he reticently turns to look at eddie if only to ensure he’s okay but he can’t seem to keep his eyes trained. he wipes his upper lip with his arm.   ❛ you alright, man? sorry. let me—-  ❜   and he stumbles forward to assist EDDIE in any way he can.

                                        @sataniicpanic gets a plotted thing.

[qvid-pro-qvo]

under the cover of night (part i)

mike dodds x gender neutral reader. reader is a detective with the special victims unit. mike dodds is alive and sergeant of svu. special thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for the suggestions she gave, and @crazyshannonigans for the beta. 

part one. part two. part three.

word count: 4749

rating: mature, for the pain of having to hide what’s already hidden (canon-typical violence and themes here, with mentions of alcohol, rape, murder, etc. also, mike is reader’s superior)

-

Undercover operations are always a little bit complicated.

The case itself is straightforward, if not incredibly heartbreaking. A trafficking ring targeted towards couples, with an online storefront for access. The squad has been on them for a month now, and each step closer seems to bring you all two steps back.

But that doesn’t matter, when in the moment, you’re so damn close.

“Hey,” Mike murmurs, catching your attention with a squeeze of his hand. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, mouth quirking up as you squeeze his hand back. “I’m good. Just thinking.”

“About?” he asks, and you just squeeze his hand again, shaking your head with a little laugh as you feel him pull you just a little closer. His hand leaves yours, and when his arm wraps around you, falling into his side feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe because it is. It is easy to follow his lead, to lean close, push up to whisper into his ear. It’s also easy to muffle the mic against your shirt, pressing against Mike’s side so that the sound goes fuzzy. “Nothing for the peanut gallery,” you murmur, and his answering huff hits your hair.

“Understood, detective,” he whispers back, and dares a kiss against your temple, hiding his movements behind your head so the van can’t see.

A straightforward case. A simple undercover. What could possibly make it complicated?

Well.

For a few incredible, secret months, you and Mike Dodds have actually been dating. Secret because he’s your superior officer, secret because of his father, and secret because the thought of waiting for the necessary channels, for when it would be proper, makes your skin itch when you know you aren’t gonna let this guy go.

At first, you’d thought it was a joke, getting that text from Liv. Getting that text from Liv while your feet hit against Mike’s under the table. Getting that text from Liv while having dinner with Mike Dodds, a date to finish up the end of the week, on the other side of town where other SVU detectives or nosy A.D.A.s couldn’t stumble upon the two of you. You’d chuckled when you’d gotten it, barely reading the message to the squad.

“Someone’s gonna be having fun,” you’d chuckled, shaking your head before putting your phone down. The word undercover had been the only thing that’d stuck out, and it was easy to know that you were not usually first pick.

Mike’s lack of response probably should’ve been your first clue. But it wasn’t. You’d just started chatting about something that’d happened at your gym when you realized that Mike had… had actually opened the text.

“Mike,” you’d laughed, reaching for your glass. “Come on. They’ll be fine without us.”

And when he’d cleared his throat, reached to smooth down the front of his shirt and raise a brow at you, well.

That was the hint.

“No,” you’d blurted out.

“Oh, yeah,” he’d responded, and you’d watched him try a small smile as he lifted his hand for the check.

The problem was that you were just the type that was needed – it was hard to ignore when the victims looked a lot like you, and a lot like him. When the targets were professional couples looking for a little bit of fun to “spice up” their sex life, you and Mike, side by side, could’ve been the blueprint.

“The perfect ploy,” Liv had told the two of you as you stood in front of her. Fresh off of trying to look like the two of you weren’t on a date together, smiling together for a photo she could upload onto the page that Amanda was meticulously crafting. “Thanks for doing this, guys. If we set up the profile tonight, we could have a hit as early as tomorrow morning. Find out who’s giving up these couples to the wolves.”

“It’s no problem,” Mike told her, then, hand still around your waist as she lowered her phone camera.

“Our job, isn’t it?” you said with a smile, not thinking about how you hadn’t pulled away.

And then Liv had glanced up to the both of you. A hint of a smile had played across her lips, especially as the two of you almost jumped apart at her raised brow. “We’re done with pictures now. Go look over Rollins’ work, see if it needs any personal touches.”

All of that led up to now. Running your hand up Mike’s bicep in full view of the crew. Your hands interlocking as you lean back with the sound of Liv’s voice in your ear, telling you that the mic was getting caught on his jacket. The feeling of your bodies flush against each other, glancing toward the door while waiting for your contact to arrive.

“Copy that, Lieutenant,” you say, trying to stifle your little grin so the rest of the squad can’t hear the delight in your features. “Any sign?”

“Nothing,” is Carisi’s tired response, and you can hear every inch his jaw stretches with the yawn he manages. “Dead out here.”

“Nothing from this side,” Rollins reports, her voice a little more like a tin can thanks to the distance.

“Think we can call it an early night, then?” Fin asks. “I don’t see any of you standing out in the cold.”

You can’t help your chuckle, but then there’s a sharp intake of breath from Carisi. “Looks like you just jinxed it. Look. Coming from our right, just passing the awnings.”

“That’s him.” Liv’s voice has a tone to it that makes your back straighten subconsciously, a warning that lifts Mike’s arm to wrap around your waist. “All right, guys. You’re on. Remember. We need him to tell us who he sends addresses to.”

“Copy that,” you reply, and Mike’s grip is firm. You look down at your boyfriend - well. Fake boyfriend, you suppose. “Showtime, sergeant.”

His name is Will. He’s a handsome guy, with a brilliant smile and a laugh that’s contagious. You and Mike stand to greet him, and when he shakes his grip is firm, just enough.

“Well. The picture doesn’t do the two of you justice,” he says with a grin, taking Mike in with an unsubtle up and down that makes you smile despite the situation. “I’m loving the no-tie look and show-stopping smiles.”

The answer you each give is a sheepish laugh, and you feel Mike’s hand squeeze on your waist. “Isn’t he a charmer?” you say to Mike lightly, and Will shrugs, faux-humility oozing.

“I do my damnedest. Why don’t we get a couple of drinks? Get to know one another.”

“Sounds fine by me,” Mike says in a low rumble, all warmth. It makes your hand on his back move up to his neck, playing with the baby hairs there.

“Me, too,” you agree. “What’s your order, Will? We’ll cover.”

There’s about half an hour of small talk. The conversation moves… easily enough. Verbal flirting, gentle pushes, but nothing that tells you he’s willing to come along to the hotel room you have the key to.

It’s at forty-five minutes you decide to make a move. You’re standing in between the two of them, Mike and Will, and you find yourself mimicking what you’re doing on Mike’s end with Will. Little leans closer, as much as you can manage, fingers on his arm, on his shoulder. It’s blatant, more than a little, and you try to play up the drinks as much as you can when they’re notably virgin on your end. But Mike…

God, but Mike.

It’s like a bungee cord. Pushing in to Will gets you a pull back into Mike’s side. No matter how much you try, you’re urged back close to him. It gets to the point where Will is getting visibly turned off by Mike’s movements, at the way he’s pulling you back from him.

You know, in your brain, he’s just trying to protect you. Every time Will touches you, you feel the tension from him. You both know what he does with his little team, what the body count has been.

But it’s the operation. It’s undercover.

Will’s hand reaches for yours, the one that’s settled on his knee. He covers your fingers, interlocks your hands, and you don’t hide your little laugh, ducking your head.

You feel that tug again. The bungee cord yanking you back to reality, Mike’s arm on your waist pulling you against him. It makes Will clench his jaw, makes you wince as you press against him and close your eyes tight.

“Mike,” you say, sharp, stern. His fingers release suddenly, and you almost stumble at the lack of pressure against your side.

“Sorry,” he mutters, not sorry in the slightest. You can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the feeling of his hand on your back in smooth circles. “Just…”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Will’s eyeing the both of you now, and you can see the suspicion start to close him off. His arm lifts from the bar, his finger on the back of your hand pulling away. He’s assessing Mike, and there’s a squint that makes you nervous. Makes you scramble.

“Mike, honey,” you say. “Why don’t you get the next round?” Your eyes don’t leave Will, who’s now facing you completely. It’s as if Mike doesn’t exist, and in that moment, you’re very much okay with that.

You know he wants to argue. Wants to keep himself glued to your side. But another look from you keeps his mouth shut, and when he nods, it’s with a small smile. Polite. Banal. He can’t help himself completely – a kiss to your temple that makes Will’s lips twitch – but you don’t look up when he does so, a dismissal in and of itself.

It’s only when Mike is out of supposed earshot that you start talking, glancing over your shoulder for the show of it. After all, Mike can hear every word.

“Sorry about that,” you sigh out. “This is our first time, and… he wants everything to be perfect. Still trying to figure out what he wants.”

“I know that feeling. And I don’t blame your beau.” Will’s voice is sympathetic, and he lifts his hand again to trace along your knuckles. “Hard not to feel that way with two pretty people to impress.”

In your head is a mantra to yourself. Flirt. Flirt like your life depends on it.

“If you’re worried about being impressive, trust me, you don’t have to,” you laugh out, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glance around the bar. “I would venture to say that’s what makes Mike a little nervous.”

“You think?” his voice goes similarly low. “A man like that? Nervous about me?”

You watch his eyes glance towards where Mike is – yours follows easily. In that moment, you see what he sees. Strong, tall, broad-shouldered, great ass. You have to fight your grin, the little rush of possessiveness that you get when he glances back and sees you. He smiles, bright and easy, like every smile he gives you, and you force yourself to look back at the man you’re trying to seduce.

“Look,” you murmur, and push forward so your mouth is by his ear, your fingers reaching up to run down his chest, play with a button. “We saw your photo, and he couldn’t… control himself.”

Not true. Mike had given a little fist pump at the sight of Will because of his connection to the case, had grinned at you with the victory. But that didn’t matter, because Will was looking, too, and turned to look at you once he’d gotten his fill. “Give him another chance,” you push. Push without being pushy, urge him without seeming urgent. Let your fingers slide down his chest to rest over his hand. “He’ll play nice. I’ll make sure of it.”

There seemed to be a beat. Will’s eyes scanning yours. And then he smirks.

“You have a room?” he asks.

Got him. “Upstairs. Why don’t you come up?”

“That’s it,” Liv’s voice sings in your ear. You fight the urge to turn your head to it. “Get him up there, then figure out what he knows.” She sounds proud, and you try not to preen at it either. Letting all your pleasure show in your smile that you hope looks a little wicked.

“Should we bring the drinks?” you ask. Knowing that the drink you’re getting is as virgin as Mike’s is.

“No,” Will replies, and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Get your handsome man.”

You turn over your shoulder. Smile at Mike, who smiles back again when he catches your gaze. You tilt your head with a nod, and he gets the picture, waving off the bartender, offering over a bill before taking a few steps towards you.

Will’s hand settles on your back. You try not to flinch away from it, try to lean into it, even, and smile as you both turn towards where the bar leads up into the hotel. “Lead the way,” you tell him, and he smirks. 

You hear Liv’s voice in your ear. “They’re heading upstairs.”

The walk is easy. You know Mike is only a few steps behind, you can hear his light footfalls, but soon he’s right beside the both of you.

“313,” You say against his ear, loud enough that Mike can hear. You hand your boyfriend the key card, and Will presses a kiss against your temple right where Mike did earlier. You try not to squirm with it, just let out a light chuckle as Mike takes the card.

“Perfect,” the bastard responds, and when you smile at him it’s real enough. “I’ve got a surprise for you, once we’re inside.”

“Oh, yeah?” you say, keeping your voice low and breathy. You watch Mike push the door open, moving forward with Will to follow him. His hand drops from touching you, and you can’t help your sigh of relief. Almost there.

That’s when you feel the gun against your back.

You can’t help the way your breath hitches. Mike turns around once he’s in the room, and you swallow tightly. There’s a digging, and you’re urged forward, stumbling as you feel Will’s hand grip your side.

“Keep walking,” he snaps. “That’s it. Let your boyfriend get a good look at you.”

“Sweetheart?” Mike’s voice is concerned, and you can tell it’s not something faked for the squad. “What’s going on?”

“Drop the act, officers,” Will snarls. “And get in the damn room.”

“Dodds?” Liv’s voice is in your ear and Mike’s at the same time, and you both wince with it, the sudden sharpness. “What’s going on?”

You’re pushed forward again, the only thing touching you now the barrel against your back. Your mind is racing, and you close your eyes, take a deep breath. “Will, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper, hands lifting slowly. “There’s no need for… for a gun.”

Carisi’s voice is next, sharp. “Did I just hear ‘gun’? Lieutenant –”

“Dodds, report!”

Mike’s voice is hard. “Will, what’s going on? Come on, let my –”

“Oh, shut up.” The gun moves to your side, and Will’s grip on you returns, this time grabbing your bicep to yank you close. “Any wrong moves and I blow a hole into your partner’s side, here. Now, sit.”

Mike’s ass hits the bed quick, and you can see the way his whole body tenses when he’s down. He’s not rigid, no – you know that any wrong move from Will and he’ll leap up, rush the other man, have him down in three seconds flat. It’s only his jaw that clenches, and you watch him roll it slowly as Will shuts the door with a well-placed kick of his foot.

“This is how we’re gonna do this,” Will says. His voice is right by your ear, and you can’t see him, can’t see what Mike sees that makes him push a slow breath through his nose. “You, Mike, walk out of here. I keep your partner for insurance, and I wait for my ride. When they get here, the two of us take a little trip, and I drop your partner off at a payphone.”

A couple of slow breaths from Mike. You do your best to match them, to think. “What’s the catch?” you ask, and you just know the bastard is smirking.

“Anyone follows, I make sure that there’s nothing about this pretty face you can recognize.”

There’s a pause. There’s a lot of reasons you love Mike. He’s one of the bravest cops you’ve ever known. But that bravery makes him tilt his chin up, makes him look Will dead in the eye.

“No.”

Will growls, jabs the gun deeper into your side. You can feel it pressing into your ribs, right against the bone that a bullet would surely shatter.

“You’re a petty burglar, Will,” he continues, and lets his hands push off of his knees as he rises to his full height. He takes a step towards the both of you, and you feel Will drag you back, lift the gun to point at him.

“Fuck off and get back on the bed. I will shoot –”

But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. It makes your breath hitch, the way that Will’s arm is now lifted to push against your neck. “We’re Special Victims Unit,” Mike urges him. “You’re not for us. We want the people who rape and kill right after you. You understand?”

“Mike, just go,” you snap, your anger, frustration, fear getting the better of you. But Mike, stubborn asshole that he is, stays firmly planted. He’s not even armed, and yet he stays, arms raising up, eyes steady as he looks at Will. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Mike says to you, watches as the gun presses more firmly against your side. Anyone else would think he was unfazed, but you see the way his jaw twitches at the sight of you so vulnerable. “Let’s talk about this, Will.”

“Talk about what? All your friends surrounding the building as we speak?” he snaps, and you feel the barrel against your skin as your shirt rides up. It makes you wince, the feeling, and Mike’s slow blink is measured.

“They’re not. Let’s talk about what I can do for you.”

You can hear Liv talking in your ear. Of course, they are. In ten this whole block will be cut off. But Mike just smiles, a little small one. “We just need information,” he says. “We don’t need you; we don’t want you. All we want is who you tell about the couples. Who’s the one who hurts them?”

Will’s voice is short. “I don’t know. Now get out.”

Mike doesn’t. “How do you tell them? That these people are vulnerable? That they’re sleeping?”

“Mike –” you try, but Will is talking over you before you can get much more out.

“Get out!”

“Will, you and I both know you do.” Another step, and you can see the gun shaking as Will points it, the tremor in his voice overtaking his attempt to assert any authority. “You know who comes in. Who slashes their throats. Who makes sure they can’t scream while they –”

“Stop!” Will screams, a half-sob.

Everyone goes silent. Mike, Liv, Carisi. Any chatter dies, and your breath stops.

You wait for the shot that doesn’t come.

“Stop.” The gun is back against your side, but it’s held loosely, and it’s not pointed to you. Mike tracks it with his eyes, meets yours, before taking another step. “Stop, I don’t – I don’t know them, okay? They pay me, okay? I send a text, they send me money, and – and I don’t have to do anything –”

Mike’s voice is so, so gentle. “I know. I know, Will. You steal. You take what you need, don’t you? What you can sell. They kill. They murder. You got caught up in the wrong crowd. Let us help you.”

Will’s sobs are hiccupping now, and you can feel the way the gun is trembling against you. He’s nothing like the confident man he plays, now, the façade cracking under the right kind of pressure.

Fear.

“Let us help you. All you have to do is give the gun to me, Will.”

Your eyes are closed now. You can’t watch Mike take those steady steps forward, closer and closer to a loaded pistol. All you can do is take a deep breath in, and out, and in, holding, holding, holding –

The gun drops. You hear its clunk on the carpeted floor, feel the way Mike’s hands grab at your wrist and yank you aside. You’re barely registering Mike’s voice as you gasp for air, hands trembling as they grip your knees and you bend over, trying not to retch.

Fuck.

There’s a commotion. Up the steps. You can hear Liv shouting orders in your ear, and you lift a hand to the comm piece carefully, still heaving a little. “Suspect – suspect detained. Stand down, suspect detained.”

“Are you both all right?” Liv shouts, and you hear the sirens outside. “Tell me you’re both all right. Sergeant, report!”

You’re still trying to catch your breath. “We’re fine, lieutenant. Just. We’ll be down soon.”

When you’re able to stand upright, you turn to see Mike. He’s got Will’s hands behind his back, and when the door flies open Sonny tosses him a pair of handcuffs.

“Sergeant,” he acknowledges, and then his eyes fall on you. “You all right?”

“Fine,” you say. “I’m fine.”

“You need to get checked out,” Mike says immediately, and you feel your brow furrow at him, a glare. He’s looking at you intently, and you feel your jaw clench as you rub your hand over your forehead.

“I’m fine –” you try, feeling your hackles raise at the overprotectiveness for the second time that night. He might be your boss, but you know that this isn’t coming from a sergeant to his detective, and it makes your stomach churn.

But your words are dismissed with his turn back to Sonny. “You’re getting checked out. Are there paramedics down there?”

“There’s an ambulance,” Sonny confirms, but his voice is a little hesitant, looking between the two of you.

“Head down. I’ll handle Will and get him to Liv and Rollins.”

It’s an order, or at the very least sounds like one. You glance at Sonny with a small shake of your head before moving towards him. His hand goes to your shoulder, squeezes it, but you just shake your head again before moving through the halls of the hotel, jogging down the flights you need to before emerging into crisp night air.

They check you out, the paramedics. There’s nothing really wrong, besides the way that your heart rate hasn’t seemed to calm down. So you lean there, on the ambulance, trying some deep breathing to ignore the cool metal you swear is still on your skin.

And then Mike emerges.

He walks Will to the squad car. Loads him up, handcuffed, mournful. He talks with Liv, easy, solemn, and then immediately makes a beeline towards you. You don’t know what to say to him. There’s so much in your head, none of it particularly pleasant. All you see is his eyes widening, his hands up, the way he walks closer after you beg him not to, so clearly ready to risk it all to save you –

Yeah. Great feeling to have that on your conscience.

“What the hell, Mike?” you mutter. The back of the ambulance is cold against your body, and you shiver and wrap the shock blanket around you a little tighter. You’re fine, and you’ll stand by that. “What the hell were you thinking in there?”

You’re just exhausted now. Your bones are weary, and you can still feel the place where the gun was digging into you – it’s not bruised, you’re certain, but that ghost of a gun will linger the rest of the day.

“I was thinking that I needed to get us out of there alive,” he says, and you glance up at him before shaking your head, pulling the blanket tighter. “Are you all right?”

You nod, but it’s small. “Look, you should’ve left me in there. You were guaranteed an out –”

“Neither of us were guaranteed anything. I saw I could talk him down, so I did.”

“And if it’d gone wrong? Mike, you can’t keep throwing yourself into danger, and especially not for –”

“I can make that decision for myself,” he interrupts. Again. And you feel yourself tensing, pushing off of the ambulance to narrow your eyes at him.

“Can I speak, please?” you say. It’s sharp, and it gets his attention. Makes him stand still, lift his chin at you. “You can’t keep doing that. Your life is not expendable. Not for me. Not ever for me.”

“My life isn’t worth much at all if I have to step aside when you’re in danger. It wasn’t about whether or not we’re together, and I wasn’t solely motivated by the fact that I’m your boyfriend.”

“Okay, yes, you’re my – my boyfriend,” you shoot back, and it’s a hiss coming out of your mouth. “But today, in those moments, we’re not dating. You shouldn’t be motivated by that at all. We were undercover – we were cops. You were my sergeant. You have to realize –”

“You surely can’t expect me to just sit back and turn off the fact that I care about you,” Mike scoffs, and you find yourself inching towards the edge of a breaking point.

You throw your hands in the air. The paramedic inside the ambulance almost gets hit in the face as he steps out before you’re pinching your nose, taking a breath in and out. “No, but do you think I could finish a damn sentence?”

His jaw ticks before he relents. “Okay. Fine. Say what you want to say. I’m all ears.”

The two of you are nose to nose, now. Bristling with the exhaustion, the fear, the energy that’s built up and pent up.

“What I wanna say? Fine. You know what I wanna say? It’s that your attitude almost blew this whole thing!” you shout back, and you see Mike’s shoulders tense, the way his breath goes low and slow through his nose. “What the hell were you thinking, going at his throat like that?”

“I was thinking that he was putting his hands on you,” Mike mutters. “What, I can’t look out for you now?”

“Are you kidding?” you retort. You’re incredulous, and you have to force your voice low before speaking again. “It’s an undercover operation. Not the time to suddenly be aware of us. And not exactly a great look for a couple of undercover swingers to be so damn stingy, Dodds.”  

His brow is furrowed deep as he looks at you, breath coming in short huffs, and when he rolls his eyes, it stings. “All right. Well, since it’s so easy for you to forget you have a boyfriend, I’ll stop acting like one. How about that?”

The silence is heavy. It seems to push down on you, from all sides, and you find yourself falling back against the ambulance. His words seem to crash on him once they settle on you, and his whole body slumps.

“I didn’t mean –” he sighs out. He sounds so… defeated, but you just rub your hands over your face as he takes a step closer to you. “You know I –”

“I know what you meant, Mike,” you say, and there’s nothing but exhaustion that bleeds into your tone. “Just. Go see Liv. I’m fine.”

He starts to reach out to you. “Baby…”

“Baby? Nice try.” It’s said with a scoff, and you just pull away, standing tall again and brushing him off. When you move, it’s to walk towards one of the squad cars. “I’ll see you at the precinct, sergeant.”

“Wait – don’t –“

But your steps are quick and focused, to where Liv and Amanda stand. You tell your lieutenant you’ve been cleared, and then you’re free to go. Precinct for paperwork, home for the night, and knowing that Mike won’t dare to be right behind you.

- 

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[thefanficmonster]

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze. 

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway. 

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on. 

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“ 

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else. 

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

[spoondrifts]

long post ahead I'm sorry-

crack au where Jonah Magnus is a good guy but everything keeps going wrong and he spends all of his time running around trying to stop his employees from diving headfirst into their Fuck Up™ of the week

in this au Jonah is almost entirely incompetent but he's got the exasperated parent thing down enough to make up for his lack of braincells

he's also at least 7% dumber than he is in canon

s1 Jon: please call pest control there are so many worms

s1 Elias: I already did

Jon: and??

Elias: they ate them

Jon: the worms?

Elias: the pest control guys. the worms ate them

Elias spends the entirety of season 2 desperately trying to convince Jon that none of them killed Gertrude (in this au Gertrude just had a stroke or something in the tunnels). Elias stops Jon from destroying the table but a week later something heavy falls on it and the NotThem escapes anyway. Elias bashes in Leitner's head with a pipe after mistaking him for the monster and Jon gets framed.

now Elias has to convince this hunter that Jon is innocent while Jon runs around and harasses various fear avatars (who are all very amused with Elias' wayward Archivist). Jon assumes Elias knows nothing about all this bullshit because Elias is just his weird and uptight boss who accidentally killed someone, he can't possibly know that there are literally fear gods ruling over them

olive ⚰ has named the group 'Avatars ✨'

JMagnus 👀: Jude please don't hurt him. I'll explain everything when he gets back to the Institute.

🔥: too late

JMagnus 👀: What?

🔥: too late

🔥: burned him

[JMagnus 👀 is typing]

JMagnus 👀: Where is he now.

🔥: going to mike

JMagnus 👀: Mike Crew???

🔥: ya

Elias RACES to Mike's house but he. he fucking misses them. the Beholding helpfully tells him that they're all going back to the Institute so Basira and Daisy can interrogate him, which isn't ideal, he'd really like to not go to jail, so he drafts up an employment contract on the way back and barely manages to escape the whole thing with his life intact.

then he explains everything to Jon because if Jon is going to end up being the Archivist, being uninformed won't do. Jon becomes the Archivist completely on accident and Elias is desperately trying to make all of this work because, haha, the Unknowing is coming up, and Elias is not in the fucking mood to deal with clowns.

olive ⚰ has named the group 'all that is terror uwu'

spidey🕸: lmfaooo jonah how do you make an archivist on accident

JMagnus 👀: He stumbled into it. All I can do now is ensure he doesn't die.

JMagnus 👀: Or get further injured by the rest of you.

🔥: woops

🎭: hEy gUyS lOnG tiMe nO sEe

🎭: gEt iT eLiAs

🎭: sEe

JMagnus 👀: Beholding puns are not amusing from a manifestation of the Stranger.

🎭 has named the group 'eLiAs bE niCe tO niKoLa cHaLlEnGe'

🔥: haha

spidey🕸: I'm sure Nikola will be on her best behavior

🎭: yEaH i wOnT kiDnAp yOuR aRcHiViSt

[JMagnus 👀 is typing]

mike n ike: hey guys what'd I miss

🔥: arent you dead

mike n ike: yeh but I came back

JMagnus 👀: NIKOLA ORSINOV WHERE IS JONATHAN SIMS

🔥: can't you see haha

mike n ike: heh "see"

JMagnus 👀: NIKOLA

spidey🕸: wow he must be pissed

spidey🕸: he left out the punctuation

JMagnus 👀: I WILL BREAK ALL OF YOUR PLASTIC BONES WHERE'S MY ARCHIVIST

🎭 has left the chat.

JMagnus 👀: what the FUCK

since he's still a coward Elias sends Michael to go fetch Jon, only finding out after the fact that he very nearly almost signed Jon's death warrant. Elias is now speedrunning Jon's development because fuck the Unknowing is coming up really quickly and Tim is a self destructive mess and Melanie keeps trying to stab Elias and Martin is a pining idiot and goddammit he didn't sign up for this

Elias prepares Jon the best he can for the Unknowing, because even though he knows the ritual will fail, the Circus can still cause a considerable amount of damage and he needs them out of the way.

the Unknowing happens. Jon ends up in a wack ass coma, Tim is dead, Daisy's in the coffin, and Basira is starting to look like the better choice of Archivist because jesus christ Jon has no self preservation instinct. Elias doesn't get arrested this time around but his ex husband starts coming by the Institute and fucking with all his employees. and the Flesh is attacking. jesus. goddamn.

olive ⚰ has named the group 'bully elias'

JMagnus 👀: Why are you all so mean to me? I'm arguably the nicest one here.

🔥: ur joking right

Peter Lukas: you're not nice you didn't buy me an anniversary gift 😢😢😢

JMagnus 👀: I was busy.

Peter Lukas: doing what

JMagnus 👀: Stopping the Flesh from destroying my Institute. Besides, you didn't remember my birthday.

Peter Lukas: you're 200 years old how could I remember 😓

helen!!!!!: We All Know I'm The Nicest One Here!!

JMagnus 👀: How did you make your text that colorful?

helen!!!!!: IDK

JMagnus 👀: Liar.

helen!!!!!: That's Literally My Job

olive ⚰: hey eli your archivist just woke up I think

🔥: ew why

helen!!!!!: How Delightful!! Maybe I'll Throw Him A Glad You're Alive Party!!

olive ⚰: should we invite him to this chat since he's an avatar now

Peter Lukas: no 🙅 🚫❌

Peter Lukas: I hate archivists 😤😤

olive ⚰: still mad about gertrude huh

🔥: were all still mad about gertrude

🔥: but jons fine once you burn some manners into him

JMagnus 👀: Can you all please stop hurting Jon? Or talking about hurting him? I would like my Archivist to not acquire any more scars.

🔥: damn

Peter Lukas: damn 😔

Elias keeps trying to teach Jon how to pick certain victims to feed off of because personally he has no qualms about feeding from innocents but Jon!! actually trusts him!!! so Elias doesn't want to push Jon into making decisions that will offend his moral sensitivities.

things are actually going okay for a while. Elias starts going home at a reasonable time in the evenings and Jon is actually getting some sleep. and then-

Elias is having a nice dream about Peter trying to fish Simon Fairchild out of a sky filled with eyes when he abruptly sits up in bed, wide awake.

"Ah, fuck," he says to Peter, who is laying on the floor where it is Lonelier™. "Jon's doing something stupid. I Know it."

Peter's mumbled "isn't he always" goes unnoticed as Elias hurries to the Institute, where he finds a fucking rib on Jon's desk and the coffin in the middle of the room.

Peter Lukas has named the chat 'archivists ruin my sleep schedule and my sex life'

JMagnus 👀: What the fuck do I do?? I can't go into the Buried! Why is Jon so stupid? I didn't know he had zero braincells when I hired him!

🔥: ngl why havent you fired him yet

JMagnus 👀: Beholding won't let me. We're all bound to the Institute.

🔥: F

JMagnus 👀: Why are there no Buried avatars in here? Please someone help me.

mike n ike: lol the buried is gross why would anyone go down there

spidey🕸: does he have an anchor?

[JMagnus 👀 sent an image]

🔥: is that a fucking rib

spidey🕸: wow that's not a good anchor at all

spidey🕸: he needs someone he loves

JMagnus 👀: Thanks. Gtg.

spidey🕸: np

🔥: are we not going to talk about his rib

🔥: how the fuck did he get that out of his body

🔥: yall

🔥: YALL

it takes three days for Elias to find Martin.

"Please tell me why the fuck you're dabbling in the Lonely," Elias says as Martin steps sheepishly out of the fog.

"Ah. Well. Jon can't See into it very well and sometimes we like to spice up our se-"

"Stop before I have to gouge my eyes out again."

"A-Again-?"

Elias drags Martin back to the Institute. Martin starts setting tapes on the coffin because "Jon loves these" and Elias starts bashing his head into the wall.

Jon climbs out of the coffin with Daisy and Elias almost considers locking Jon in his office so the damn archivist can't do anything else ridiculous. instead, Elias very calmly takes Jon by the shoulders, and shakes him like a rag doll.

"Stop fucking with entities, you stupid, stupid man," Elias says, shaking Jon more viciously now.

after several hours of breathing exercises Elias returns to his house and doesn't take his Sight off of Jon for the rest of the night, which is a fun experience for Peter when he wakes up and finds Elias' bloodshot eyes staring directly at him in the morning.

JMagnus 👀 added Daisy to 'archivists ruin my sleep schedule and my sex life'

Peter Lukas has named the chat 'archivist hate club'

JMagnus 👀 has named the chat 'shut up peter'

Peter Lukas has named the chat 'you love jon more than me'

JMagnus 👀 has named the chat 'I don't love either of you I'm heartless'

Peter Lukas has named the chat 'I want a divorce'

spidey🕸: jeez take your marital dispute elsewhere

spidey🕸 has named the chat 'lonelyeyes dni'

Daisy: wtf is this

mike n ike: it's a chat for avatars

mike n ike: and ex avatars ig

Daisy: didn't I kill you

mike n ike: yea

JMagnus 👀: Hello, Daisy. Welcome to the group chat.

Daisy: why is Jon not in here

Peter Lukas: because I hate him 😁

spidey🕸: Elias talks mad shit in here and Jon would get offended

Daisy: if you talk bad about Jon I'll rip your throat out

Daisy: :)

JMagnus 👀: Noted.

mike n ike: he's kinda rude tho

Daisy: I've killed you once

Elias' only goal now is to keep Jon and his assistants from pulling any more wild stunts without his supervision. his renewed involvement with the archival staff results in a few things he'd hoped to avoid: drink invites, physical contact (Martin is surprisingly quick to start hugging Elias once he realizes Elias won't stop him), and- shudder -feelings. because Elias genuinely cares about his staff and doesn't want any harm to befall them. especially Jon. Jon is his Archivist, the only one to ever succeed like this, and Elias will be damned if he lets anything happen to him.

"Why do you care?" Jon asks, once, compulsion thrumming like static on his tongue. "About us, I mean. I would've assumed you'd want to perform the Beholding's ritual."

Jonah Magnus attempted the Watcher's Crown once, when he was young and new. he'd brought his patron close, but not all the way through, and the backlash of power killed all the inmates at Millbank and severely crippled Jonah's connection to the Eye for months afterward. he grew to assume that the Beholding simply preferred the world as it was--ripe with fear for watching. it didn't need a ritual.

he instead dedicated himself to growing stronger, cultivating his Institute of knowledge, his stronghold. if he tore out a few people's eyes when he got too old, then, well, collateral. but he doesn't want the world to end, and knows now that no ritual will ever succeed unless it brings in all the Powers at once. and he doesn't want that either.

it's concerning to him that Jon seems to be collecting marks regardless. the only ones he's missing are the Dark and the Lonely, and Elias is determined to keep it that way.

he explains all of this to Jon who, to his credit, takes it pretty well. Jon is fascinated with historic life and Elias spends some time simply recounting tales of his youth, when he still bore the name Magnus.

they bond. it's good.

and one day Basira does a little too much research and discovers the dark sun waiting in Ny Alesund. she insists they need to go and see what's left of the People's Church, they need to ensure everything is taken care of. Jon is rather insistent too. and Elias wouldn't have been inclined to let them go, except Peter was finally home after weeks at sea, and it wasn't like Jon was defenseless, he could call Elias if anything went wrong...

so, very reluctantly, Elias gives them the all clear. Basira, Jon, and Martin head north, and Elias almost forgets they've gone when he arrives home and Peter already has dinner prepared.

Jon comes back marked by the Dark.

Elias curses himself, over and over, for being foolish enough to let them go, for not keeping a closer eye on them. he knows the ritual won't work unless a certain incantation is spoken, so he'll just have to keep world-ending written chants away from Jon. easy. and it's not like Jon will even get marked by the Lonely. Peter wouldn't.

(but Martin doesn't have the same level of control, and sometimes...)

it's an accident. Martin and Jon are testing it, pushing the boundaries, when Martin pulls them both into the Lonely. Elias threatens divorce until Peter caves and fetches them, but it's too late. Jon has been marked by all fourteen Powers.

Elias tells him, and warns him to check everything he reads.

helen!!!!! has named the chat 'apocalypse babey'

JMagnus 👀: How are you doing that?

JMagnus 👀: And the apocalypse is not imminent. I have the situation under control.

olive ⚰: ha yeah

JMagnus 👀: What do you mean by that?

olive ⚰: nothing

JMagnus 👀: Well, now I certainly think it's something.

olive ⚰: it's just

olive ⚰: don't you think it's kinda weird that @spidey🕸 has been offline for so long

🔥: thats weird shes always online

JMagnus 👀: Oliver, what are you implying?

olive ⚰: idk

olive ⚰: just weird, that's all

🔥: never good when the spiders are quiet

olive ⚰: hear hear

Elias gets a sinking feeling in his stomach, and beside him, Peter looks alarmed. meanwhile, in his flat with Martin making tea in the other room, Jon has a statement clutched in his grasp.

Hello, Jon.

I would apologize for the deception, but I'm afraid that's quite what I'm good at. I'm not one to monologue, that's more Jonah's shtick, so shall we get on with things?

I admit I underestimated Jonah Magnus. He's still remarkably easy to manipulate, but when he abandoned the Watcher's Crown ritual I knew I would have to take a different approach. The Mother is not so satisfied with the world as she may have insinuated. It is our turn to rise, Jon.

At the age of eight, you were marked by us. We sent you to the Magnus Institute in the hopes that a new Archivist would rekindle Jonah's desire to end the world. Unfortunately, it seemed as though he grew fond of you, and so we brought in a new plan. We marked you. One fear at a time. Jonah gave an admirable attempt at protecting you, but ultimately, he is an incompetent old fool, and I am a Weaver. Even Jonah Magnus dances to invisible strings.

Everyone underestimates a spider until it bites. Poison is poison, Jon, regardless of the medium in which it is served.

You will be safe in this new world. Martin, too. Perhaps even Jonah and his Lukas, if the Mother deems them worthy.

Now, please repeat after me...

Jon reads the ink scratched words, eyes welling up with tears and hands trembling, as thunder crashes outside and a howling gale picks up beyond the windows. Martin is shouting something, there's the crawling press of Elias' gaze as it rests heavy behind Jon, a silent observer. He can feel Elias' soothing presence, cool and calm in the raging storm.

Elias is still watching out for him.

Strings are wrapped around his wrists, jerking his arms up in a poor mockery of religious regard, strange hysterical laughter clawing out from his throat.

Jon's tears run red. Somewhere, Elias is still watching.

The door opens.

[arce-elliot]

Magnus Archives - First Impressions (51-75)

Back at it again!

EP 51 (High Pressure): - Simon Fairchild more like Simon Rudegrandpa EP 52 (Exceptional Risk): - wow okay acab time this guy fucking blows - AYYYY ROBERT MONTAUK EP 53 (Crusader): - AYYYY GERTRUDE TIME - ayyyy...more war time y'all the war ones are NOT my thing - we love private investigator gertrude EP 54 (Still Life): - oh taxidermy! this ought to be fun - "obnoxious cockney voices" ah gee it's beavis and butthead - JONATHAN BREAKING AND ENTERING IS A CRIME EP 55 (Pest Control): - jonathan please calm yourself - this poor pest control man like what the fuck EP 56 (Children of the Night): - Trevor 2 Electric Boogaloo - oh shit it's the yelly episode please no yell EP 57 (Personal Space): - ooooooh spaaaaaace - oh wonderful the fairchilds AND the lukas' - WAIT NOT-SASHA'S DATING A DUDE NAMED TOM I THOUGHT THAT WAS A MEME EP 58 (Trail Rations): - this Donner Party spinoff slaps EP 59 (Recluse): - ah yes hilltop road - Raymond Fielding is just 8000 spiders in a trenchcoat - "the others are avoiding me" YEAH NO SHIT, JONATHAN EP 60 (The Observer): - I always feeeeel like somebody's waaaatchin' meeeeeee - Eye leave this girl alone - LMAO THEY'RE HAVING AN INTERVENTION - "hey jon can u please stop stalking us" EP 61 (Hard Shoulder): - AYYYYYYY DAISY - Basira: we have to feed the archivist tapes or he's gonna get scared - BREEKON AND HOPE AH FUCK - "i dont want to talk to you anymore also here's how i ritualistically murder people for the state" EP 62 (First Edition): - Imagine possessing this book of skin that can store ghosts and killing dozens of people and you get murked by a weird nine year old EP 63 (The End of the Tunnel): - I adore Melanie and Jon's relationship it's hysterical, Just a lot of yelling and then "oh sorry" - Also love how they won't let her in the library but wandering freely around the institute is just fine EP 64 (Burial Rites): - love a statement where you're rooting for the monster, sorry white people have you tried Not Breaking Into Tombs EP 65 (Binary): - Man Eats Computer ASMR MUKBANG - Also the girls are FIGHTING EP 66 (Held in Customs): - every 15 or so episodes Mikhail has to drop in and fuck some shit up - Also @Jonny why the fuck we have Michael, Mikhail, and Mike - Use babynames.com like the rest of us EP 67 (Burning Desire): - AGNES AGNES AGNES - aww this guy seems sweet actually - Elias has had it up to HERE lmao EP 68 (The Tale of a Field Hospital): - yay. another war one. woo. - oh jk - good lord this man's a proper mess - AYYYYYY NOT!SASHA SAVES THE DAY EP 69 (Thought for the Day): - poor Marto just wants his friends to stop fighting :c - OH ANNABELLE? - joooooon let your friends help yoooooou EP 70 (Book of the Dead): - final destination x death note crossover - ah yes, we've found the Burning Room EP 71 (Underground): - this girl is so unsettling why is she so chill - god i know it isn't but imagine if they person living in the tunnels this whole time leaving these wrappers was just fucking Gerard EP 72 (Takeaway): - Basira please be careful I love you - okay this guy is kinda funny ngl - PFFFF THIS DUDE REALLY SAID "shit i dont want my last thought to be a microagression" - Jon is fed up with the Flesh lmao EP 73 (Police Lights): - basiiiiira - lets go Mr. Cult of Night Night Man - honestly basira good for you get the fuck outta there EP 74 (Fatigue): - this one is trippy i blinked and all of a sudden there's a ceiling fan - AYYYY HEY MICHAEL!! - yo elias keep a better handle on these fuckin tunnels dude there's all sorts of shit going on in here E 75 (A Long Way Down): - is this Mike Crew throwing this dude off the building - AYYYY IT IS WHAT'S GOOD LIGHTNING BOY - basira is the baddest bitch i love her so much

[ashtraythief]

I would love to see how Dani and Jared met. Or more about Dani and Jensen's first meeting in the vent. Love this verse!!!

Thank you so much, nonnie! Many apologies for this incredibly late answer. I left this one unanswered because I am planning on writing a meet cute between Jared and everyone in his crew. Obviously, so far I have not succeeded. Going back to my asks, I finally wanted to tackle this. But I was dumb. I’ve grown so attached to the Chad in this verse, even though all the other meet cutes were in the pov of the person Jared was meeting, I started writing Chad POV. And I do want to explore Dani’s story from her POV. Because there’s much more to her story with Jared and why she became loyal to him. But that took some time. So. Here’s the snippet I wrote from Chad POV, at some point I’m hopefully going to rewrite that into Dani’s full story and post it to ao3. But who knows when that will be so have this snippet for now!

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

[Takes place at the beginning of Jared’s last year at Stanford]

The first time Jared really needed to hire an assassin was when he needed an international smuggler gone. He was interfering with Jared’s business. Both Mike and Chad were excellent at their jobs, of course, but their Spanish was rudimentary and they didn’t have the experience to navigate the Venezuelan country-side where the guy was hiding out in his fancy mansion.

So Chad asked around. Harris came highly recommended, especially if you needed work done in Europe or South America. 

They agreed to meet at the Red Room, which was a club way fancier than they usually hung out in, but Jared wanted to make a good impression on this world-class assassin and not meet him in the back-room of a dingy dive bar where they'd been conducting business for two years now. And the booze was better in the Red Room. Just like the view. Fuck, there were a lot of hot girls in short skirts in here.

Chad was trying to watch the door, but really, there was this cute redhead at the bar, with a rack to die for and she was smiling at him and fuck it, they had another half hour until their meeting. Chad could buy a girl a drink.

They flirted, a lot, and Chad really thought he was doing well there until time was running out.

“Sorry,” he said, waving at Jared to indicate that yes, he was giving up a potential hookup for meeting an assassin, “but I have a meeting. Any chance you'll still be here in an hour or so?”

She raised her eyebrows sharply and her cute button nose scrunched up. “Do I look like a girl who’s going to sit in a club for an hour alone?”

Chad looked her up and down, slim figure with spectacular curves in all the right places wrapped in a tight, dark green dress. He sighed. “Sadly, not at all.”

She cocked her head. “You know, that is the first genuine thing you’ve said to me all night.”

“What?” Chad stared at her. “I haven’t lied to you.”

She huffed. “Not lied. But you’ve been hitting on me with a very bad plan and cheesy lines from the start. Like it’s just a game.” She leaned forward and poked a finger against his chest so hard it actually hurt. “And I went along with it because you’re cute and I had to pass the time. And maybe because I wanted to see if you had an honest bone in your body.”

Chad smirked. “I definitely have an honest bo—” 

Her finger pressed against his lips. “Do not finish that sentence.”

Chad swallowed. Hard.

She pulled back with a sigh. “Men. You’re all pigs at heart.”

Chad opened his mouth in protest, but she was already drawing back. “You’ll have to excuse me, I have to go freshen up. You’re not the only one on the clock.”

Then she turned around and walked away with swaying hips. Entranced, Chad watched her long legs and her pert ass and wondered what the hell had just happened to him.

He went back to the booth Jared was sitting in. He’d found his own entertainment, a guy with blond curly hair who was very admiringly stroking Jared’s shoulders. When Chad had met Jared, he’d already had the broad shoulders but was still on the lean side. He’d bulked up the last few years under Rosey’s tutelage and a lot more chicken on the meal plan. And guys seemed to love it.

Jared looked up at Chad and sighed. He leaned into the guy sitting next to him who pouted at whatever Jared said. But the guy leaned in to give Jared a pretty filthy kiss—Chad knew the one, it was the don’t-forget-about-me one—and Jared watched the guy’s ass as he walked away. Well, there was a reason why they were friends.

“So,” Chad said and plopped down next to Jared. “Where’s our mystery assassin?”

“No idea,” Jared said. “But Tom said Harris blends in well. He only said that Harris looks way too innocent for an assassin.”

Chad smirked. “Like the guy who was just up here with you.”

Jared shot him a glare, then he looked past Chad and grinned. “Or the cute redhead you were just flirting with.”

Chad twisted around and there she was, long-legged and smirking. “Wow. I did not see that coming.”

“She’s good then,” Jared said.

Chad rested his hand on his chin and took her in, looked for the clues he had missed the first time. It had been a long time since he’d misread someone so badly. 

She was slim, but there were long muscles under her light skin and a hint of biceps. She balanced well in her high heels, and Chad caught a glimpse of a light scar next to her knee. Her hands were small, but strong. Not soft or delicate. Sure, the red nail-polish distracted, but now Chad saw the calluses on her palm. Damn. He really needed to stop getting distracted by his dick. 

“She is very good,” Chad said.

Harris walked into the booth and raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not. You know, Mr. Padalecki, if this is the best you have, then I don’t know if we should do business.”

Chad gaped at her. “Wow. Rude.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed, then he picked up his glass. “Chad has other qualities. But if he were a top-class assassin, I wouldn’t need to talk to you.”

“Flatterer,” Harris said.

Jared smiled, popping his dimples. They didn’t miss their effect on Harris, she visibly softened.

“That’s not my style, Miss Harris.” Jared pointed at the couch across from him, right in Chad’s line of sight. “Please, have a seat.”

She sat down, crossed her long legs, dress hitching up a few tantalizing inches, and picked up an empty tumbler. Chad took the bottle of whiskey and poured her a glass. He could see the edge of a black garter belt under the hem of her dress, tightly circling her upper thigh and probably holding a knife or gun.

She shot him a look under her dark lashes, half-smug, half-apologetic. “Other qualities, huh?”

Chad grinned because he never could pass up on an opportunity. “I can show you later.”

Harris huffed. “Alright, Mr. Padalecki, tell me why I should work with someone who’s lieutenant is that human disaster.” She pointed her glass at Chad.

“You know,” Chad said, unreasonably charmed by her insults, “most people are scared shitless of me.”

“An indignant meerkat?”

Okay, enough was enough. Chad pulled his knife out of his back pocket and had the switchblade open and at the inside of her thigh, right over the black weapons garter, on top of her femoral artery before she could flinch. Her hand closed around his wrist with surprising strength for such a small woman, but Chad was pretty sure he’d come out on top in this particular encounter. Her eyes narrowed in reluctant respect.

“Most people underestimate Chad,” Jared said and there was a proud smile in his voice. “Think he’s stupid. Just like they think I’m young and harmless.”

Slowly, Harris looked back at Jared. 

“We liked it that way for a long time, it helped build the business without us getting bothered. But now, we need a shift in strategy.”

“People are catching on to how dangerous we really are,” Chad said, increasing the pressure of the blade. 

“At least here in the city, where they can see what we do,” Jared added. “But it takes the stories a little longer to spread to the far corners of the world.”

Harris leaned back, resting one arm along the backrest of the couch, seemingly unconcerned by the knife Chad still had to her leg.

“So you want me to spread your reputation?”

Jared nodded. 

Harris looked down at Chad’s knife. “I think that’s unnecessary. You made your point.”

Chad left it there for another beat before he pulled it back.

“I have a going rate and I don’t give discounts for cute dimples,” Harris said. “I agree to a contract, I follow through, always. If you double-cross me, you’re a dead man. I will never let someone buy their way out of a hit, but if you skimp on payment, you’re a dead man. See a pattern?”

“I do. It’s why I contacted you.”

Harris pursed her lips. “Where exactly would you want me to go?”

Jared handed her a piece of paper with the name and the address.

Harris took the paper. “That’s a long way.”

Jared nodded. “It’s why I called you.”

“What did he do?”

“He’s interfering with my shipments.”

“You know,” she said slowly, taking another sip of whiskey. “I’ve never heard of you before. I had to ask around for someone to tell me you’re legit.”

Jared nodded. “I try to avoid law enforcement. It works best if you don’t draw a lot of attention to yourself. I think you understand what I mean.”

Harris smirked. Chad hadn’t even known she was a chick, she definitely played things close to the vest.

“Well, not everyone is so... open-minded,” she said.

“Their loss,” Jared said and his voice was hard. “Everyone out there who doesn’t want to do business with us because of who we are can go to hell.”

“Who you are?” Harris asked.

“Let’s just say Jared and I never compete for attention when we go out at night.”

Harris shot him a look, then her red lips formed a perfect ‘oh.’ “I see.” She tilted her head, regarded Jared with a smirk. “Well, certainly a loss for women everywhere.”

Jared laughed. Chad made a face.

Harris leaned over to him, patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re cute too.”

And really, Chad should be so mad at her.

“So,” Jared said, “are we in business?”

Harris nodded. “I want half up front because it’s an out of the country job.”

“Done.” Jared pulled out his phone. “You’ll have the money tomorrow in your account. The other half will be wired after you send proof of finishing the job.”

Harris stood. “Excellent.”

Chad watched her leave. “Hey.”

She turned around.

“My meeting’s over,” Chad said with a grin. “And you’re still here.”

She laughed, throaty and surprised. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you’ve got balls. But I’m a professional, Murray.”

“So am I,” he said with a wink. “Very professional.”

She laughed again. “Like I said, pigs.” Then she walked away and damn, it was a pretty sight.

“You’re playing with fire,” Jared said.

“Yeah.” Chad turned back to Jared once Harris was out of sight. “You know, it would come in real handy to have an assassin on retainer.”

Jared snorted. “I’m not putting a hit-woman on retainer because you want to get into her pants.”

Chad clutched his chest. “That’s just mean.”

Jared laughed and Chad laughed and they poured more whiskey. But Chad had a good feeling about Harris. He’d see her again. And who knew how that would go.

[haberdashing]

Like Emptiness In Harmony

TMA AU of 160. When Jon wakes up after that statement, he finds that he’s changed just as the world around him has.

on AO3

Jon came back to himself... no, that wasn’t right; Jon’s self was far too nebulous a concept for that. How many weeks, months, years had passed since he’d truly been himself, free of influence by eldritch powers? Had he even truly been himself before he’d joined the Magnus Institute, or had he been controlled by the Web back then, too? Would he even recognize his true self, his human self, anymore? (Were his true self and his human self even the same thing these days?)

Jon came back to consciousness on the floor of the safehouse, with Martin standing over him, and for a brief second things seemed alright, seemed as normal as they ever were, before he saw the terror in Martin’s eyes and remembered what he’d read out loud before passing out and knew (lower-case) that something had gone terribly wrong.

The details were still fuzzy in Jon’s mind, though, and as Jon struggled to put the pieces together, to wake up more fully and figure out exactly what kind of trouble he was in this time, he was only able to say a single word.

“Martin.”

But... but it didn’t sound right, somehow. The word was clear enough, luckily, it wasn’t like he was trying to spit it out through a gagged mouth (which was a sensation Jon unfortunately knew all too well thanks to Nikola), but the tone was off. Jon was confused and curious and scared, but when he called out Martin’s name, none of that came through. Instead, his voice sounded... smug, smug and vaguely condescending, much closer to the sort of tone he would have used to dismiss Martin before Prentiss’ attack than the one he’d meant to adopt now.

“Jon?” Jon wasn’t sure how much of the uncertainty he heard in Martin’s voice just then was real and how much of it was just his mind projecting. Probably some of both there.

Jon cleared his throat and tried again.

“Martin.”

It came out the same as before--exactly the same as before, actually, his tone and enunciation both identical to when he’d said Martin’s name before, as much so as if he’d recorded it before and simply played it back again instead of actually speaking anew.

An analogy that, when Jon examined it more closely, seemed entirely too on the nose.

“My god.”

He said the words only partially because they were what he actually wanted to say; if Jon were free to speak his mind, his speech would probably be significantly less coherent right now, and filled with half-formed questions. But this would have to do at short notice, combining actual meaning with a way to test his current theory.

Sure enough, he was able to say those words just fine, just as he had... how long ago was it, now? Minutes, hours, an eternity ago? And with them came that same smug, self-congratulatory tone, one that almost made Jon want to punch himself in the face for sounding like that. But it wasn’t really himself that he wanted to punch in the face at the moment, just as it hadn’t been himself, exactly, who had first said those words. It was his voice, sure, but the words themselves, the mind behind them, were not his own.

Jon opened his mouth to say Fuck Jonah Magnus, but was far from surprised to find that the words refused to cross the gap between his mind and the world around him.

It was all starting to come together, now. It didn’t click, per se, just continued on the progression from lazy analogy to hunch to theory to something just shy of a dark certainty.

Why did nobody ever swear in the statements, goddammit?

Though that- that wasn’t quite true, was it, there were one or two instances in there where-

And then it clicked. Jon Knew, then, what he could and couldn’t say, the exact limits of his strange new vocabulary. (Or... not new, really. None of these words were new to him. Perhaps he would never say anything new again.)

“Jon, are you alright?”

Even Knowing what he could say didn’t mean controlling his speech was easy, though. It was a little like trying to conduct a conversation by flipping through a dictionary, having to find just the right word in its pages every time a new one was needed.

“No. No, of course not.” The words were right, or close enough at any rate, but the tone was all wrong, and it wasn’t even Jon’s own voice this time, the voice and words of a now-dead man leaving his lips instead.

Jon laughed, then, and that at least sounded normal enough... well, for a certain definition of normal, at any rate. It sounded sharp and cold and full of fear, without a hint of humor to be found, and that wasn’t normal for a laugh, no, but it was what Jon had intended at any rate, a sound that was still all his own.

“Jon, you’re, you’re scaring me a bit, something about your voice seems weird...” Oh, good, he noticed that much at least. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know... and it makes me very afraid.” At least it was his voice again, now, not that of... well. Jon wanted to call Mike Crew a killer, a monster, but those weren’t exactly distinguishing features, were they? Martin probably didn’t even recognize the voice that Jon had adopted a moment ago; it’s not as if he’d had the chance to chat up Mike before Daisy killed him.

“Right. Alright. Well then, er... is, is there anything I can do to help?”

Jon laughed, and this time there was humor to it, or at least levity, despite the world having gone wrong, despite his voice no longer being entirely his own, because no matter what Martin was still Martin, trying to help, putting Jon’s well-being above all else, even when the world was quite possibly falling to pieces around them.

“I am unsure if I will... be able to stand myself up again.” Between the words and the hand extended in Martin’s direction, Jon hoped that the instruction would be clear enough.

Evidently it was, as Martin took his hand, helping pull Jon off of the floor and back onto his feet. It took more effort than it should have, Jon thought, Martin grunting and breathing heavily by the end of it despite past jokes about how easy it was to pick Jon up, but it worked, though Martin’s whole body was shaking by the end of it. (Jon wasn’t sure whether said shaking was even entirely physical in nature, truth be told.)

Jon half-walked, half-stumbled his way forward.

“No, no, no--don’t, don’t go outside. It’s--it’s real bad.”

Outside had never been Jon’s destination, however, though Martin seemed to believe otherwise. Jon didn’t want to go outside, to experience the horrors that had now been unleashed upon the world outside their cabin. He simply wanted to... Jon had to suppress a bout of hysterical laughter as it occurred to him that he simply wanted to see what had happened, to watch the chaos unfold, and wasn’t that all too fitting...

The view outside the nearest window was enough to confirm all of Jon’s worst suspicions. The world had been torn apart, all the fears unleashed upon it to wreak havoc, all because of what he’d just read out loud (all because of him).

“My god.” It felt wrong, somehow, using the words of the man who had orchestrated this apocalypse to describe it, but Jon didn’t have much in the way of alternatives at his disposal.

“I don’t know if it’s just here, or-”

“No. No...” Between trying to put the world’s destruction into words and trying to translate what words he could come up with into something said in the statements, Jon struggled to speak, though it didn’t show in his voice when he did manage to string a few more words together. “...the populated world... edged with a strange, creeping fear... far, far away...”

“Is that Peter’s voice? Jon, don’t... just, please don’t.” Martin laughed briefly, though Jon could see that his eyes were filling with tears. “I, I think I’ve heard enough from him already, thanks.”

Jon nodded enthusiastically, went to apologize, realized that even a simple “I’m sorry” was beyond his reach now, settled for “I was an idiot.” instead.

“Don’t say that. You’re not an idiot for not thinking of it, it’s just...” Martin let out a long sigh. “Jon, I’m scared.”

“...fear can just become as routine as hunger... I felt every feeling... They overwhelmed me... my impact on the world... my failure...” Jon switched between different statements, different voices, desperate to find the words to explain what had happened, what the world had become and how it was all his own fault. The end result felt like almost as great a failure as what it was purporting to describe, but it was an attempt, at least. It would have to do.

Martin wrapped one arm around Jon’s shoulder; Jon briefly considered pushing it off because he was about the last person who deserved to be comforted now, when he was the one who had caused so much pain and suffering, but decided against it because that would hurt Martin’s feelings more than it would appease his own, and he couldn’t exactly explain his own thought process to Martin at the moment.

“You’re not a failure, Jon. No matter what this is, no matter what else happens, you’re not a failure.”

Jon laughed and shook his head and laughed some more, a laugh that kept threatening to turn into a sob as he looked out at the ruins of the world he had wrecked entirely.

“And with each act of glorious, hateful destruction, I felt my god’s love embrace me, consume me... ”

Jon pointed to the sky, to the giant eye that now engulfed it.

“It’s still there, still watching me.”

The laugh that kept threatening to turn into a sob finally did so after a long minute, and as it did the tears that had been building in Martin’s eyes began to flow, and the two men threw their arms around each other, holding one another for comfort as they cried over the loss of their world.

[jramirezblogs]

Just because I have weird ideas in real life sometimes....

Mike knew Jayde was back in LA and that she was scared of Elon finding her. He told her that he and Brad were on their way over. When they got to her old house, they saw police cars, an ambulance, and her crying hysterically. They then saw a stretcher with a body bag. Oh no! They ran over and heard a police officer trying to calm her down but she was way too upset.

She ran over to them when she saw them. What’s going on? The officer came over as she was explaining the best she could. She had been at home packing up some stuff she had forgotten when she moved to Middletown when she heard the doorbell. Since they knew she was in LA, she thought it was them. Instead, it was Elon. How did he know where she was? She didn’t know! They got into a fight and he pulled out a gun.

She went into fight or flight and went for the gun. The next thing she remembered was calling 911. Did she remember shooting Elon? No! Because of her admission, she was placed in handcuffs and placed in the back of the squad car. Brad asked where they were taking her! Once they got the answer, they went to the car and drove over.

“Damn it! She fucking killed him”, Brad said.

“I know. I know! There has to be more to the story”, Mike said.

They had to figure out what really happened. She wasn’t the type to kill anyone! She jokingly threatened to kick ass multiple times, but she never reacted violently! At the jail, she was booked and had her mugshot taken. She was then put into a room with other women with a blanket and a pillow. Her court date was the following morning. With that, the cell doors closed behind her.

Nothing. That was what they found out. Nobody would tell them anything. Frustrated, they left and drove back to Mike’s to go over everything with Max. When they got home, they were met by Max. They went down to Mike’s studio where they sat down. Max gently asked what happened. That’s what they were trying to figure out. All they knew was that Elon was dead and Jayde had allegedly shot him. She claimed self-defense. Knowing him, that was very possible!

She didn’t seem like the type of person to kill anyone! That’s what they said. Something happened. What was she like when they got there? Hysterical. She was crying harder than they had ever seen with her. Usually, it was a few tears but this time, they were coming out fast.

Police went through the house and gathered evidence. They found the gun and a single bullet, along with bloodstains on the floor and walls. It was evident there was some kind of struggle. Pictures were taken of the evidence by forensic investigators. Once everything was gone through with a fine-toothed comb and collected, they let a crew clean up the house.

In court the following morning, Jayde stood silently as the judge and attorney talked in legal jargon that she didn’t understand. She only spoke when spoken to directly. Did she have money to hire an attorney? Yes, your honor. The judge denied bail because of the crime she was accused of. When everything was done, she was given a court date for the charge of second-degree murder. She was then led out by a courtroom officer.

The news made it to Jon. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and seeing on the television! Alleged murder. He called Mike to find out what happened. Nobody knew because they weren’t being told anything! He told him what little they knew. He was going to find out where she was and see if he could visit her. Please keep me updated. He promised he would!

Online, he looked up LA county jail. He found a search option, where he could find inmates. He searched for JAYDE JOHNSON. Up popped her mugshot and where she was being held. Thank you! He texted everyone about what he had found, then registered to visit her. An appointment came up for the next day. He took it!

Jayde came out wearing a jumpsuit. She sat on one side of a table while he sat on the other. There were guards around them monitoring their conversation and keeping watch. She looked as if she hadn’t slept.

“Babe, I’m so sorry!”

“What happened?”

“I’m still putting that together in my head. There’s a part that’s just black and I can’t remember anything!”

“Hey, they are going to put together a case that will show this wasn’t your fault! How are you doing?”

“I keep seeing his body in my head. I think about why I didn’t let Jon come with me. I think about the kids and them finding out.”

“I’ll talk to Jon about the kids, ok? This wasn’t your fault! I truly believe you acted in self-defense! We all do!”

She nodded and wiped her tears.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After visiting time was over, she was escorted back to her cell. It was cold, loud, and offered no privacy to use the steel toilet provided. Sixty days. That was the time limit to go to trial. The prosecution and defense had sixty days to gather evidence and work on their presentation. She was assigned an attorney, who she would be meeting to go over her case.

Her attorney listened to her detail her relationship with Elon, the deceased. She described the abuse, isolation, and manipulation. While with him, she developed anorexia. She went into treatment for six months, then moved to Middletown, New Jersey around thanksgiving to live with her boyfriend and his children. Why was she in LA? She had come back to gather some things she had forgotten during her move.

She had to get them before her house went on the market. What were the items she was trying to retrieve? It was some clothing she had forgotten, along with some blankets. She was going to donate the clothes and bring the blankets back to New Jersey. While in LA, she was also going to visit friends because it had been a while since she had seen them. She understood how dangerous it was but she had been stupid.

Her boyfriend had wanted to come with her but he had to stay home with the kids. She had flown back and forth several times by herself without an issue, so he gave her permission to come by herself. Has she gone through abuse before? Yes, she had. Could she talk about that? She detailed her experiences with verbal, sexual, and physical abuse throughout her life. Was her boyfriend abusive? No, he was wonderful! He loved her for who she was, even with her mental health problems.

What was she diagnosed with? Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, generalized social anxiety disorder, anorexia, and depression. She also had the genetics of addiction on both sides of her family. Her birth mother died when she was three months old from a heroin overdose while her father was a recovering alcoholic and drug user. Her paternal grandfather was also an alcoholic.

While doing the interview, her attorney found her to be quiet and respectful. There was nothing to indicate that she was a cold-blooded murder. She promised to do the best she could for her. Thank you! With that, she was escorted back to her cell.

@who-can-rock-a-rhyme-like-this @zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @linkinlocks @chezterb @mundanedraws @brendonandtheurinebottle @wing69wing @chestersflikka @depplyimagines

[freekshow17]

Reddie Ch2 ‘The Red Carpet”

Reddie with short appearances of Benverly and The Uris’ 

Word Count 1.9K

Richie was able to convince Eddie there was no time for a shower, wiping off would have to do. Eddie compromised with extra cologne. Richie laughed as Eddie sprayed himself liberally, "You can cover up the smell all you want Kaspbrak, but unless you got make up lying around, those little love bites ain't going anywhere." Eddie's eyes shot up to the mirror he stood in front of, he was instantly aware of the perfectly circular near purple bruise dead center, he whipped around to glare at Richie who was standing tall, full of pride, with a toothy grin stretched across his face. "Are you fucking kidding me Tozier?!" Richie kept his pose, only tilting his eyes down to meet Eddie's "Curious. What's a bigger problem? You with that, or me - with these." Richie rotates his head side to side exposing all the blue and black marks that trail from ear, down his neck around to the other ear. Eddie's jaw slowly lowers as his eyes go wide "Shit." Richie lets out a deep belly laugh opening his arms to embrace Eddie "Oh Ed's. It's alright, if you want, I'll blame it on a wild girlfriend, you can... well… say Myra came back to town" as Eddie leans into Richie's chest allowing his arms to wrap around him Richie finished that statement, Eddie snaps back. "Fuck you." Richie nearly topples over from the immediate anger radiating from his new partner, catching himself on the corner of the bed frame. Richie lets himself fall to the bed rolling to his back clutching his stomach, Eddie stares at him blankly "Why? Why are you the way you are?" Richie tries to look serious but the second he looks to Eddie he starts to laugh again. "Seriously, Fuck you Rich." Eddie says as he starts to walk out of the room, kicking Richie’s leg as he walks past him.

A few minutes pass and Richie has composed himself enough to exit the room and join Eddie where he sits on the arm of the couch in the living room by the door "Ready?" Eddie asks with a hint of anger still in his tone, Richie clears his throat before replying "Yes sir… hey, you actually had make up?" Richie says as he approaches Eddie realizing his bruises are not as noticeable.  "Myra wasn't good for much but she was kind enough to forget to take all her crap from the bathroom." Eddie said as the two men make their way to Richie's car, Eddie sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest. Richie takes the wheel and begins their journey to the premiere. With only a few minutes between them, camera crews, and more importantly, the other losers, Richie slows down to the actual speed limit instead of his normal 10 over, to give them time to talk. "Really though Ed's, if you don't want me to tell anyone it was you… I won't. But no matter what I say out there, you gotta know I don't regret what we did. Quite the opposite, actually." He turns to look at Eddie for a moment before directing his eyes back to the road, catching a slight smile peek at the corner of Eddie's mouth. That's all Richie needed; some sign, or gesture, to know Eddie wasn't regretting what they had shared. "I don't regret it either Rich… I'm… just not yet, okay?" Eddie looked up to Richie with what Richie could only interpret as uncertainty, he replied with a nod at first "You got it buddy." Richie said softly, hoping it would ease the obvious worry Eddie was feeling. He couldn't blame him, Richie had these feelings for 30 years and is just now acting on them, he can't expect it to all change at once. "It…" Eddie paused a moment, and they both went tense at the word Eddie hesitated on. Eddie quickly tried to continue "It's just, Myra and I haven't been separated long. I don't want anyone thinking… I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea." This time Richie just replied with a nod, he tried his best to forget Myra was ever apart of Eddie's life, tried to forget she got to have him in the years HE should have had Eddie. Just hearing her name would send Rich on a downward spiral. Eddie sees it but thinks it's from his proposed plan to keep the two of them quiet for now. "Also, I'm embarrassed to say I'm with trashmouth" Eddie adds to cut the mood, it makes Richie smile and a slight huff escapes him. "Understandable Kaspbrak. Here we are." He says as they pull up to a Red Carpet roped off with a small walkway for them to follow to the doors. "Are we supposed to walk together?" Eddie asks nervously. "Don't worry, we can wait a minute for everyone to get here." Richie replies as he watches his rear view mirror to see if anyone else is pulling up. "Rich." Eddie says pointing toward the doors. All the other losers are already inside just beyond the door. "Fu- wait!" Richie started and cut himself off "I knew I loved that man for some reason." Eddie turns to look behind them to see Stanley walking around to his passenger door, opening it and holding out a hand, leading Patty out of the car. "Hurry!" They say in unison as they scramble to get out of the car, cameras already flashing in their direction. "STAN! PATTY!" Richie yells to them as he puts a hand on Eddie's lower back guiding him toward their friends, he quickly moves his hand away and whispers a Sorry to Eddie "Oh, we thought we were gonna be late. I'm so happy we get to walk in with the star." Patty says as she opens her arms demanding a hug from her husband's childhood friends. They've met before and had time to get to know each other over the last couple of years, after Stan decided returning to Derry on a blood oath was not something he counted as an acceptable excuse to miss the vacation he had planned for his wife and himself. They were 40 with no kids and made damn sure their time together was memorable, introducing Patty to the horrors of his childhood were not the memorable moments Stan had in mind. However, after he got a SECOND call from Mike, saying it was all over, he decided to celebrate by bringing Patty into a world he did enjoy: The Losers Club. Now it was as if Patty was an honorary 8th member. "Congrats again Rich, we're so proud of you" Patty continued as they separated from their hug to allow Eddie to get one. "Well… more like surprised for me." smirked Stanley, offering a hand to Richie "Didn't think this trashmouth had it in him?" Richie questioned in a rhetorical sort; he knew Stan always showed his love through his sarcasm. A literal translation of what Stan had said would be more like God I love you Richie Tozier, and I am so proud of you for getting past your demons and making something of yourself. and Richie knew that, so he accepted the sarcasm. After the four friends have greeted each other they make their way up the carpet together, Richie purposefully positioning himself to the far end of the line next to Patty, with Eddie opposite Stan. Seeing the other losers inside he waves them out and they follow. "Richie! Mr. Tozier" Richie heard his name being called from multiple directions. As he stops to pose for photos, he answers a few questions Who's your date? "My best friend's wife" the crowd laughs Who are your other guest? "Oh, these people? Just a bunch a losers!" More laughter Is one of them responsible for all those hickeys? Richie looks down the line before replying making quick eye contact with Eddie but breaking before it was too noticeable "They all wish! But this neck is reserved for the finest of teeth… just ask your mom she'll tell ya." The crowd erupts and Richie thinks that's a good place to leave it be, just before entering the door they pose for one last group photo, the photographer tries to split them into two rows with the tallest man, and man of the hour centered back row, to his right stood Mike, and next to him Ben, to Richie's left was Stan. In front of Stan stood Patty making sure to reach a hand behind her grabbing the hand of her dear husband, then Eddie, Bev, and Bill. "Great guys, perfect, okay and three, two..." the photographer counted down and everyone gives their best smile. Just after the flash Patty took it upon herself to approach the photographer to be sure he had the names right and in the right order. Bev, still linked in arms with Eddie leans in close to whisper, "I never noticed just how perfect your teeth are Ed's." She says perfect with a hint of suspicion, she turns to offer Eddie a smile but that too seems pointed. Does she know Eddie panicked in his head; he goes to question the compliment as Ben steps up beside Beverly "Wow! Am I right? This is amazing." Ben says as he slides his arm around Beverly's waist, and she repositions herself against him. Beverly has had issues in the past with being touched like this, she would wince away from it, it was always out of possession, claiming her as if she were property. But that wasn't the case with Ben. Every time Ben touched her, she could feel his love illuminating from his fingertips, making her feel safe and comforted. Ben always had a way to make her feel better, even when she thought she was at her best. "I know right?!" Bev responds offering a bright smile up to Ben. "To think our Richie is getting an award for being the same knucklehead he was at 13? Priceless. Right Eddie?" Ben asked trying to bring Eddie into the conversation, Ben could tell he was in his own head somewhere. "Yeah. Yeah it's great." Eddie replied still giving Bev a confused stare. "Hey Bev-" Eddie started but was interrupted "Hey! There you all are!" Richie approaches with the rest of the losers crew in tow. "We were gonna head in, but I wanted us to all go in together." Everyone nods in agreement ready to go take their seats. "Now once we're all in there I think a couple people speak, they give me the award for 'up and coming blah blah blah' then the special starts. BEFORE you see it, I want you to all know" Richie waves a hand in front of each loser giving a thoughtful look "You're all in it, I bash all of you, it's hilarious!" He continues as a smirk creeps across his face. All the losers give him a wave of the wrist or a fake punch as the laugh their way from the lobby to their seats. Bev takes a step back from Ben and places a hand on Eddie's shoulder, leaning close to his ear "You used the wrong shade of concealer on those love bites babe, it's still pretty obvious what's under it." She pulls back glancing toward Richie and back to Eddie "Don't worry though, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one to notice. And you know I can keep a secret" she smiles widely, leaving Eddie with a wink as she turns on her heels and heads back up to Ben.