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The Old Way Trailer #1 (2023)
The Old Way Trailer #1Â (2023)
Check out the official The Old Way trailer starring Nicolas Cage! ⺠Visit Fandango: https://www.fandango.com/?cmp=Trailers_YouTube_Desc Subscribe to the channel and click the bell icon to be notified of all the hottest trailers: http://bit.ly/2CNniBy US Release Date: January 6, 2023 Starring: Nicolas Cage, Ryan Kiera Armstrong, Noah Le Gros Directed By: Brett Donowho Synopsis: Retired gunslinger��
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#Nicolas Cage#nicolas cage movie#rotten tomatoes#the old way#The Old Way (Movie)#The Old Way 2023#The Old Way Movie 2022#The Old Way Movie 2023#the old way Movie Trailer#The Old Way Nicolas Cage#the old way Official Movie Trailer#the old way Official Trailer#the old way trailer#the old way Trailer 1#the old way Trailer 2023 Rotten Tomatoes Trailers
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i have to wait an extra week and a half to wathc dm4 than the us I HATE IT HERE HELL COUNTRY
#its fridayyyyy tho so depending on my shift i can either watch it that day or the next :]#the reviews atm r very middling but so are the reviews for the firat 2 which IMO r divine works of art#IM SCAREDDDD TBH i think most likely i will come away annoyed. the trailer isnt giving me crazyyyy high hopes butttt#it cld surprise me.#i find it strange that theyre kinda mixing the gadgets part of minions 1 w the transformation part of both dm2 and rog. gimmick alerta#i havemt gone out of my way to look at promos etc bc i end up spoiling myself but i like the new girl thats w gru in the honey badger scene#with the cat. VERY CUTE#the villains look fun too. always glad to have more gay freak villains (SERIOUS)#balthazar u wereeeee the blueprint. WAIT NO SORRY. scarlet and herb.#whatever man rog was kinda mid and still had me jumping up and down and giggling kicking my feet#tbfh i like illuminations animation BUTTTT i think it can be a little bit much for gru at times now. noticed this in 3#they make him a little tooooo goofy for my personal tastes. but its whatever#hopefully nefario comes back from the war đ missed him#unfortunately suffering from the sequel disease where they keep having to sideline old characters to make way for new ones#massively noticed in 3.#also side note but i still wish nefario had more of a role in rogâŚ.. thr found family cld have been insane#i remember seeing bts stuff mentioning him being like. in place of wk which i wishhhh was the case. no hate to wk but i feel his plot becam#pointless the second they pussied out of his death#tskâŚ.. what could have been.#whatever we still got kill bill minions its ok
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The way women experience horror is so much more interesting than men
#I am so serious about this#I am listening to a horror podcast with 3 guys and 1 girl and first of all she gets way less talking time than the others#She's excluded from convos more often than not#And THEN they discussed their fave Slashers#FAVE = subjective#And all the guys had the same three in their to three because they're 'influential'#(so Halloween/TCM/Scream/Nightmare Movies)#And she was like: these fave lists are pretty old -> was shut down IMMEDIATELY#Then she presented her list and got absolutely zero feedback#I am a. Mad about how she's treated#But also b. SHE HAD BLACK CHRISTMAS IN HER TOP 3 YOU FUCKING UGLY MOTHERFUCKERS WHINING ABOUT INFLUENTIAL HORROR MOVIES#BLACK CHRISTMAS DIDN'T EVEN MAKE YOUR TOP TEN#Next time you talk about movies I sure as hell hope you ALWAYS mention journey to the moon because it's 'influential'#Anyway thinly veiled attempt to shut down people (women) with differing opinions#(I swear to god I am in a discord with these people and the host of this pod is so awful)#(I said I expected Evil Dead Rise to be more bloody and he went on a whole rant about kids these days expecting the new Terrifier)#Absolutely full of himself asshole who thinks his opinion is the only valid one#Filmbros are so disgusting#Hatched from the Brain#(Btw I expected the movie to be bloodier BASED ON THE TRAILER)#The trailer promised me things that did not happen (eg. The Eye scene)
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hi, i've been readin dragon ball for the first time these past few weeks and just finished the part where they're on planet namek. I Understand What You See In Him.
he's fucking something right??? ohhh straight up, you should see (and hear) him in the anime as well if you think you have the full picture. i've been absolutely obsessed forever
youtube
#ask#anon#i'm a little tired so i'm sorry if my response is a bit toned-back#but yeah god.....#my first experience seeing him for the first time was through an old crt playing through DBZ Budokai 1#which is why i'm kinda obsessive with that game in particular#i remember one thought at the time being like ''wow dudes can look pretty and dress like that? wow...''#pretty much a core memory into me learning i'm bisexual#also can't say it enough regarding how much i love his monster form. and the voice. and everything.#he's a lot#i'm hoping he gets announced for Sparking Zero soon#the recent trailer mostly showed off characters under the master/trainee theming#so i imagine if they do show off zarbon it's gotta be one involving transformations of some kind right#guess we'll see. i'm curious to see if they have him all in one character or if they split him up#it'll be a little weird but. hey as long as both his forms are there i'm not complaining#just hope that when it comes out (and if he's in it) someone rips his models#zarbon has really bad luck when it comes to being ripped#or atleast on models resource. then again models resource is a big pain in the ass for getting specific models#BUT YEAH. one thing i like that the anime does (and something that stay's permanent to Zarbons design) is making his arm warmers pink#like. it does so much to his design in a way i cannot explain#i've gotten some dreams recently where like. zarbons there but i can never remember to what extent. like i know he was there atleast#its fucked up im afraid.#anyway thank you for the Zarbon ask anon :)#i see a Whole Lot in him. i'd say ''i think he's nice'' but that's underselling how much i crush for him
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So with the terrible Minecraft movie trailer dropping,
I've seen a lot of people bringing up better stories in the world of Minecraft, like Story Mode or the books or the SMPs, but may I add another option that would be a way better use of your time and money than the Minecraft movie (esp cuz its free)?
Animation Vs. Minecraft
(Note: contains out of context spoilers for this series to give you a sneak peek of what's waiting for you)
There's a good chance you've seen the first video, since it's one of the most watched minecraft videos on youtube, made by the same guy who did Animation vs Animator.
youtube
But did you know that the stick figures pick the game back up and continue the series?
There are now three completed seasons packed with fun episodic content that naturally blossoms into a larger, engrossing story that amounts to /several hours of animated content/. It's got fun characters, gorgeous fight scenes, and even musical numbers, all told with next to no dialogue!
The whole thing is a love letter to Minecraft, with way more passion and knowledge of the game than WBS.
New episodes would show off the latest updates, like when the main characters explored the ancient cities and lush caves before they were officially released.
There are even homages to the Minecraft animation community, such as the episode featuring Monster School (my favorite part of this is the way they purposefully imitate the old janky animation in Herobrine's movements)
Not a fan of piglins always being villains? While there's certainly some bad piglins in this series (though I'd argue they're under duress), the main cast also befriends some, include this adorable piglin child.
Still not over Reuben's death from MSM? Well they've also got a pig (named Reuben by the community), and it both doesn't die, and occasionally does some badassery himself!
Speaking of the action, this series doesn't just reference minecraft's world and creatures: it expands on the mechanics and worldbuilding, creating avenues for some truly incredible action that can only be achieved within minecraft. It takes full advantage of the medium and world.
My personal favorite example of this is the team's expansion on the Lucky Blocks mod, exploring the idea of a "randomizer" power to its fullest extent.
The action scenes are the kind where you have to watch them five times over because each character is doing something completely unique and fun.
Here is all the episodes of season 1 compiled in one video to get you started, though there are also playlists out there:
youtube
All in all, this series is funny, gripping, and adorable, and is worth your attention far better than some corporate schlock.
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Hi! You said you wanted shy/scaredy cat reader and Tyler Owens request :) feel free to ignore this!
Maybe Tyler brings her around to something kind of like a meet and greet (I havenât seen the movie, but kind of like whatever was happening during the âif you feel it, chase itâ part of the trailer) or they are out somewhere and he gets âmobbedâ by a few people who recognize him and she is just feeling very out of her element? Maybe just Tyler being sweet about it to her?
Idk if this makes sense! Feel free to ignore it!! :)
Taking Candy From a Baby - Tyler Owens x Reader
come participate in tyler owens night !
You're typically one to hang back and relax in the passenger's seat of Tyler's truck when it's time for him to start rousing rounds of chanting about feeling and chasing and fearing and riding. You're simply more comfortable with a seatbelt on and a window between you and Tyler's adoring fans, because tornado wranglers are not typically the types of people you feel safe around. Tyler- well, Tyler had roped you in with his gentle hands and soft brown eyes before breaking the news that he shoots fireworks into tornados for a living. All that to say, you typically feel out of your element when Tyler engages with his fans.
He knows this, and typically you're undisturbed while he has Boone pump his gas so that he and the rest of the crew can mingle with fans, sign autographs, and sell t-shirts. This time, though, when he opens the driver's side door he doesn't climb in, and instead he offers you a hand.
"Come in with me, darlin'?"
"Hm?" You look up from your phone, brows knitting together in confusion as you take his outstretched hand. He squeezes it with a saccharine grin instead of pulling, which you're grateful for before you know what you're getting into.
"Come get snacks and drinks with me in the station?" He nods to the small building to the left of the pumps, and the brightly-colored wrappers of candies and chips are appealing at a glance, "Lily says they've got crazy Lay's flavors, and they've got the energy drinks I like. We can stock up on goodies before we head out, how's that sound?"
"0kay," You nod, before you have a chance to say no. There's something sickly and rancid twisting in your belly, tendrils of anxiety latching into the walls of your stomach and sticking tight, but Tyler's hand holds steady to yours and you're not going to let a small crowd of people hold you back from novelty potato chips.
Stepping down out of the truck and jumping from the runner to the dingy concrete is the next step in an ongoing mission to break out of your shell. Tyler is so- well, he's the complete opposite of you, and he's always been careful to adapt to your more introverted ways. Now, though, you're dreadfully self-conscious about ensuring that you're adapting to him, as well, and if that means you have to nod and smile at his adoring fans to get him to a refrigerated case of energy drinks, so be it.
You're wearing a pair of Tyler's broken-in boots, old ones that happened to fit you better than the fresh pair he'd bought for you. He's doing the work of breaking in the new ones, and you admire his willingness to stomp around in boots with a 1-inch heel on the sole so that you can be saved from blisters. Boots are just uncomfortable to wear if they're not broken in first, and you don't romp around enough yourself to soften the leather.
Both pairs of your boots click against the concrete and heads turn, but only a few are bold enough to approach. You're not sure if your hand tightens around Tyler's or vice versa, but when one opens their mouth you're paling Tyler's tan hands with your grip.
"Tyler, is this the missus?" One woman asks, clinging to the hand of her own beau, "You're gorgeous, honey."
Tyler laughs for you, bumping his shoulder into yours as you rush to thank the woman, "Mhm. This's my girl. You two drivin' out with us?"
"The whole family is." The man nods, clearly ecstatic to be speaking to Tyler, "We've got the three kiddos in the car. And the dog. This is one leg of our family road trip for the year! But we're keepin' out of the storm's way, of course. We're gonna end up in Kentucky and visit some of my family."
"Well enjoy Kentucky," Tyler nods, his grin on full blast as he nods politely to the couple, "And you tell those kids'uh yours Tyler Owens says hello."
"We will!" The woman gushes, and you're grateful when Tyler begins walking again, breaking off from the couple. He manages to get cornered again before you're fully inside the gas station doors, but he lets your hand go to sign an autograph for the fan.
"Head on inside, honey," He nods at the station, "Pick out some crazy chips for me, m'kay?"
You're relieved for the respite that you're granted upon stepping into the air-conditioned gas station, and you follow Tyler's orders with your head down so as not to attract attention. You're barely able to reach the junk food aisle before a little boy rams straight into your legs, and you dart forwards to grab his arm before he can topple over.
"Oh! Are you okay?" You ask, peering carefully at his chubby face, dark curls wound close to his scalp. He nods, and you let go of his arm, glancing upwards to see his mother standing over him with a reproachful gaze.
"I'm sorry, honey," She gushes, and her voice must be straight honey for the way it oozes sweetness, "I told him not to run but, well, you know how that goes. Hey, aren't you the girl who was sittin' in Tyler's truck?"
Your heart starts pounding at the thought of another fan interaction, but you're spared from answering when you feel something poking against your leg. The little boy, no older than two, you're sure, is offering you a candy bar, big brown eyes hopeful as he clutches the silver wrapper.
"You sayin' sorry for nearly tripping her, Ty?" The woman laughs, then looks back up at you, "We- uh, well, his daddy's a big fan of Tyler. Tyler actually- he saved my husband a few years ago from a big storm, not that he even knew it. My husband was driving to work one day and he saw Tyler's truck pass him on the road. He'd heard of his hobby, y'know, chasin' storms. He thought if a tornado wrangler was heading the same way he was, he should probably go somewhere else. He got off the road and missed an EF-3 headed his way. So when he was born," She nods down at the baby still offering you a wrapped sweet, his other hand clutching your jeans, "We thought it'd be nice to name him after your man."
The candy wrapper is smooth and cool against your hands as you take it from Baby Tyler, and the boy gives you a grin consisting of six teeth in total when you stick the candy in your basket.
"Thank you," You croon down at the baby, "I'm- I'm glad your husband is safe. I'm glad he was smart enough not to follow Tyler."
"Who says followin' me's dumb, darlin'?" A large hand lands on your shoulder, and you startle before you register that it's Tyler.
"I do," The woman laughs, smile crinkling her eyes, "If you're drivin' into a tornado, that is."
"Dumb's more exciting," Tyler shrugs, "Who's this little one?"
"Tyler," You and the woman answer in unison, and your Tyler grins.
"Nice name, bud," He offers a balled-up fist to the baby who slaps his palm against it in an attempted high-five, "You're smart, hangin' around in the candy aisle."
Baby Ty babbles and toddles away, mom hurriedly following in his shaky footsteps, "Sorry, he's on the move. It was nice meeting you!"
Your voice is strong when you call back, "It was nice meeting you, too!" And Tyler looks impressed by that as he stares at you and your lone candy bar.
"Three Musketeers?" He asks, and you nod.
"Baby Tyler gave it to me."
"That's sweet." He hums, "You weren't nervous talkin' to 'em?"
"They were nice," You shake your head, leading him for once as you take his hand and steer towards the energy drinks, "And he was a really cute kid.â
âMm, yeah? Yâknow, we could make some really cute kids. âSpecially if Iâve got a few of these,â Tyler holds up the energy drinks heâs selected from the fridge, âForget wranglinâ tornadoes, darlinâ, tonight Iâm gonna be wranglinâ you.â
#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens fanfiction#tyler owens x you#tyler owens imagine#tyler owens blurb#tyler owens drabble#glen powell x reader#twisters fanfiction
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Brandy by the Fireplace
7.8K / Frankie Morales x City Girl!reader
Summary: When your best friend's boyfriend invites her up to the cabin he owns with his Delta Force buddies, she asks you to come along.
Warnings: None! Fluff! Insecurity and anxiety on reader's part, but Frankie makes it better (anxiety/comfort. My anxious girlies (gn) who think everyone hates them when they definitely don't? This one's for you đĽš). Nicknames because it's me. Oh, and Tom's alive?
A/N 1: Written and very late for @auteurdelabre's Trope Off Challenge - the trope here is Fish out of water because, well you knowđ¤đ¤ Can be considered a Triple Frontier AU, or set before the events of the movie. Though I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with this and the word count got away from me, I still think it's cute and very seasonal - I hope others do too!
A/N 2: As I understand it, the cottage v. cabin lexiconic difference is a Canadian thing. When people think of cottage country, it's primarily the luxury getaway experience in the Muskokas. Super fancy! Celebrities cottage there (the Beckhams, Cindy Crawford) and the properties are huge lakefront estates. While in Western Canada, people primarily have cabins - they're more rugged, remote. In no way am I saying that cottages are better than cabins! They are just different - both enjoyable and picturesque in their own way. But you gotta know what you're in for, cause of packing and stuff... đ
đ
Trailer / CABIN dividers by @saradika-graphics đđ
This was such an effing mistake.
You sniffle as you sit cross-legged on the simple threadbare sheets covering the thin mattress that youâve called bed for the last two nights. Youâre holding your favourite fleece sweater in your hands, looking at the scorch marks where flareups from tonightâs bonfire had jumped from the pit and burned multiple holes - the black charred spots on the fabric blurring as your tears finally spill over.
I shouldnât have come.
A ruined sweater in and of itself wasnât the end of world. But a ruined sweater here? Tonight? Itâs just the freaking cherry on top of the already disastrous sundae that was this weeklong vacation so far.
And you donât have anyone to blame but yourself.
When your best friend Jenny begged you to come with her to her boyfriendâs cabin for a week, you had readily agreed. You love Benny and he and Jenny are so adorable, if not a bit too overly mushy and cheesy (âWeâre the better Bennifer! Woo - Benny and Jenny!!â). He and his old army buddies had gone in together on a cabin on a lake about seven hours out of the city at the suggestion of their Veterans Affairs therapist â something about working the land and finding serenity in nature to help them overcome some of the harder things theyâve seen over their time in service.
It apparently did wonders for them. Both Benny and his older brother, Will, who you had met a few times, were easy going and kind men - maybe a little rough and tumble with each other sometimes, but you didnât see it as anything more than filial comradery and brotherly love. Jenny assured you that Bennyâs other friends, Santi, Tom and Frankie were all cut from the same cloth.
Benny had invited Jenny up to the cabin for the boysâ annual Autumn weeklong trip â taking advantage of any remaining mild weather from the end of summer to clean and close up the cabin for the Fall and Winter. All the boys would be there and Tomâs sisters had been invited as well â Jenny begged you to come for support and of course you had said yes.
Sure, youâre a city girl through and through, but this wouldnât be your first cottaging experience. You fondly recall the summers and Thanksgivings you had been invited to your college roommateâs family cottage in the Muskokas: crystalline waters and lush greenery bordered the beautifully landscaped acreage upon which your still close friendâs familyâs 9 bedroom-9 bath modern estate resided. Summer days were wiled away on the built-in dock lounging and reading, and the cooler temperature evenings were spent inside by one of the several contemporary fireplaces, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on charcuterie. It was always such a treat to go - you havenât visited in ages, but a similar getaway right now sounds like heaven.
Your first clue that perhaps this might not be the Muskoka cottage country experience you imagined, is when the last leg of your seven-hour journey in Bennyâs truck was over a 30-minute dirt road so twisty and uneven that you started to feel a little nauseous.Â
When you got out of the truck, you realized the true folly of your assumptions about where you were going to be staying this week. The property could best be described as rustic and very "nature forward", the only evidence of landscaping being the dirt worn paths that led to the different cabins. Instead of one main house, there is a Main Cabin â consisting of a living room area, place to eat, kitchen and the compoundâs one bathroom. All guests stay in individual cabins, isolated and spaced out at various points on the large property. Each so far apart and separated by the lush, dense forest, you don't even know where they all are: Upper Cabin (Benny and Jenny), Delta Cabin (Santi), Bunk Cabin (Frankie), Screened-In Veranda Cabin (You), New Cabin (Tomâs Sisters), Outhouse Cabin (no one), Grizzly Cabin (Will and Tom).
Youâre not opposed to roughing it a little, but by the error of your own expectations, youâve come thoroughly unprepared for your weekâs stay. For one thing, your cabin (as the name would suggest), along with all the others, has no windows - only screens. Perfect for the hot summers, but with Fall coming early this year, the clothes you packed arenât warm enough to shield you against the chill that blows over your bed each night. For another, you find yourself sharing space with more critters that you were expecting, and not the adorable furry types either.
The frog that came out of the one toilet made you almost consider using the outhouse up by the parking lot (almost). And when you were washing your face that first night, the realization that the running tap was the only thing that was keeping the cricket from jumping out of the sink, forced you to stifle a scream that left your throat hoarse. There are all together more bugs indoors than you had expected (since you had expected windows).Â
It's definitely more rustic that youâre used to, but you really do try to make the best of it. The last thing you want is to appear rude or snobbish about the decidedly non-luxurious state of your accommodations. Sure, it isnât the glamourous cottage experience you had expected, but itâs still incredibly beautiful and serene here. Moreover, you know that every cabin and amenity on the property was built by Benny and his friends and has served incredible therapeutic purpose for each of them. You would never want to diminish that by somehow implying that the cottage isnât⌠cottaging; this place serves a much more important purpose than impressing the likes of city girls guests like you.
You also donât forget that the entire reason youâre here is to support Jenny. Make sure she and Benny have fun. And they are! Inseparable, giddy, googly-eyed fun. No way are you going to ruin her perfectly good time by letting her worry about you, not when this is the first healthy relationship sheâs had in years.
And honestly, everyone is so, so nice. Benny and Willâs Delta Force teammates are as good humoured and sweet as they are. Thereâs Santiago (or Santi), the unofficial leader of the crew â his hooded brown eyes look like they could tell a hundred stories, but he keeps your group entertained with the loudest and most fantastic ones, always framing his stories so that they rib at least one of his buddies. Tom, the eldest of the friends, is more serious â the type who might exude an intimidating gravitas if you were to meet him alone, but next to the verbose energy of Benny and Santi and under the watchful eye of his sisters, he seems to relax, smiling pleasantly and genuinely while in the comforting presence of his friends. Will, who is just as boyishly handsome as his brother, you already know to be as easy going and funny - though maybe a little less goofy than Benny. Despite what Jenny had slyly insinuated to you before you left, you donât think Will has any interest in you â and with Tomâs gorgeous and outgoing sisters both vying for his attention, the circumstances aren't right to try and see if thereâs anything to Jenny's (and possibly Bennyâs?) matchmaking.Â
The last member of the friend group is Frankie, who the guys sometimes inexplicably call âCatfishâ â he was noticeably reserved at first, though you soon realize that heâs just as funny and generous as the others. Frankie's steely and calm countenance seems borne out of necessity, likely from the many years of service where his competence and levelheadedness were needed to keep the other four in check, alive. You notice that he often sits a little further back from the group, most likely out of habit, literally watching their backs; heâs quieter and less rowdy, but never fails to join in his friendsâ laughter â itâs obvious to you that he loves his brothers in arms. Once or twice, you think you feel Franke's deep, soulful eyes pointed in your direction, but when you try to meet his gaze, those same eyes disappear beneath the brim of his worn Standard Oil cap that never seems to leave his head. You think you probably imagine it.Â
Everyone is so much fun to be around, super nice and completely welcoming of you.
They just⌠donât really need you here. Well, that seems presumptuous! Rather, there doesnât seem to be a place for you here the same way there is for everyone else.
It was evident from the first day when the boys pulled a small catamaran out of the boathouse and attempted to try (again, from what youâre told) to put it together and get it out on the water. Every person was asked to help pull on the trampoline netting â when it was evident that your limited strength and poor (manicured) grip on the netting wasnât actually doing anything except making you an extra body in the way, you were relegated to standing on the side, holding a spray can of lubricant and waiting to spray it on the track if someone needed. No one ever did. The trampoline never got installed, and you canât help but think it was partially because you hadnât been able to provide the additional muscle needed.
During the day, everyone seems to engage in some type of cabin maintenance work from an unseen to-do list: painting screens, sanding down the canoe, pulling up old raspberry bushes, fixing doors and hinges in various cabins, retiling the one shower and installing a new sliding glass door, replacing the hot water pumpâs aging parts, reinforcing the mesh around the young fruit trees to deter deer, repairing the older slats on the dock, removing the beaver dam under the dock, and so on and so forth.
All things you have absolutely no qualifications to help with and would likely hinder someone who did if you tried.
Jenny wasnât terribly handy either, but she tagged along with Benny on all his chores and he didnât mind patiently explaining and helping her help him with his tasks - the two of them giggling and in love as they winterized the boat shed.
Everyone else seems to know their daily assignments and go about their hard and dirty labour, leaving you alone to⌠do nothing? It felt rude to sit out on the lawn and relax while others did work around you. And even inside there's not much you can do; Tomâs sisters had brought up food for the first few meals and when you asked them if you could help, they insisted that they had it in hand and told you to âgo have funâ. You chastise yourself for having not asked more questions about what you and Jenny could have brought and if you and her could have signed up to cook your share of meals.
You hide out in the Main Cabin or in your own for most of the day, reading and feeling guilty - coming down periodically to chat with people but feeling like youâre distracting them from their duties.
Even after dinner when you volunteered to help do the dishes and clean-up, you were cheerfully shooed away by Santi after you couldnât find where to put back the cutlery, then the glasses, then the lids to the pots (which were inexplicably kept separate from the pots themselves) â youâre sure thereâs a system, you just donât know what it is.
Maybe it would be different if you knew everyone better, but this is the first time youâre meeting everyone except Benny and Will. You donât know any of the guys particularly well but you do know that this cabin is their special place â you donât want be a bother or ruin anyoneâs good time.
To you, it's clear that youâre not carrying your weight here - the last thing you want to be is a nuisance as well. You donât fit in and you definitely donât belong.Â
Tonight has finally felt a little more comfortable. After a full day of work for everyone (else) and a belly bursting dinner, the boys set up a bonfire and everyone got together to roast marshmallows and make s'mores. In addition to looking forward to the melty treats, you were secretly glad for the warmth of the fire in the chilly evening air. Beers were cracked, marshmallows burnt, and the stories the boys told had your sides aching from so much laughter youâre sure youâll still feel it in the morning. But as the fire was dying, the conversation turned to what everyoneâs up to tomorrow, you once again have nothing to say that's comparable to the tasks and chores listed by the others. When Tom comments that there are still so many things to do in order to properly winterize the cabins and that itâll be a wonder if it all gets done, you look down at your feet - face burning from the guilt and shame of being unable to contribute when help is indeed needed. Youâre sure everyone is thinking that youâre just a freeloader from the city, or worse, lazy and unwilling to put in some work. Suddenly the last few bites of the s'more in your hand donât look as appetizing anymore.
You excuse yourself from the group and quickly get ready for bed before heading up to your cabin for the night. Once settled in, thatâs when you discover that your sweater is full of newly burnt holes and you lose it.
Luckily, the cabins are all fairly far apart so no one can hear your crying, but your gratitude for the isolation and quiet of the cabins is short-lived; as it's been every night, the silence of the woods in the dark is deafening. So used to the ambient noise of the city, you find that every snap of a branch or hoot of an owl slices through the night and rings out as loud as a gunshot. You lay in bed like each night before, unable to get comfortable or calm and falling asleep only when exhaustion overtakes you.
The next morning, you wake to the sound of chirping birds and the brightness of the morning sun punctuated by the shouts and loud chatter from down near the water where people are already starting their daily chores. Another wave of guilt and anxiety sets in as you feel like youâve had an undeserved lie-in - resting while everyone else got up early to do work.
On your way down to the Main Cabin, you see and wave good morning to Frankie whoâs transporting relatively heavy chunks of wood tucked under his beefy arms. You donât ask if you can help â how could you? Each stump he carries looks like it could topple you over even if you managed to lift one.Â
When you get down to the lawn, you catch Will and Tomâs sisters as they head up to one of the cabins with paint cans and brushes and Will cheerily calls to you, âSaved you some breakfast!â His completely innocent and kind pronouncement sends your already tightly strung heart into another spiral and you try not to tear up as you call back your thanks.
You eat by yourself from the plates left out for you and feel a little better when you can at least wash them and leave them in the drying rack. Pouring yourself the coffee thatâs left in the cannister, you grimace at itâs lukewarmness, but you donât know where the grounds are kept or even how to operate the ancient stovetop coffee maker to make more, so you make do and drink it sort of sadly as you return to the dining table and open your book.
It's here where Frankie finds you a few hours after you saw him last.
He asks kindly after your book before saying heâs going to make a fresh pot of coffee and offers to top you off; when you get up to help â he tells you heâs got it before disappearing into the kitchen. Slightly discouraged, you sit back down; unless you spy on Frankie, thereâs no way for you to learn how to make the coffee here - and youâre just debating if you should do just that when he pokes his head back in, âDo you want me to show you how to make the coffee?â
Eagerly, you nod and hurry to join him in the kitchen, making note of where the fresh coffee grounds are stored and listening attentively as Frankie patiently shows you how to work the vintage contraption that Santi rescued from a yard sale. He smiles at your willing face, wondering why youâre so fascinated by something as mundane as their overly complicated coffee maker, but when you thank him, voice almost quivering with overly emotional gratitude, Frankieâs sure thereâs more to it than heâs understanding.
He's been watching you, Bennyâs girlfriend pretty friend, over the last two days and can't quite figure you out. Itâs clear that youâre not used to roughing it in these types of conditions, but you donât complain or make fun â though there is a tinge of melancholy and anxiety to the gentleness of your expressions that he does understand all too well. You seem sweet and friendly, and Benny certainly speaks warmly of you â but for some reason, you donât seem entirely comfortable and Frankie wouldnât be the Army strategist he is if he didnât notice. Or a very good host.
âDo you want to go for a row while the coffee drips?â
âA row?â You look up, confused.
âYeah, in the row boat. Come on â this old thing takes forever. We could probably get a good way to the middle of the lake and head back before itâs done,â nods Frankie, encouragingly.
This is the first time since the disastrous catamaran trampoline that anyone has asked you to do anything with them during the day, and youâre surprised by how touched you are by the simple gesture. Unable to find the words to express how appreciative you feel, you simply nod.
Frankie pushes the old tin boat that you saw him sealing and painting on the beach yesterday partway into the water, helping you in first before pushing the boat all the way in then jumping in himself, two big wooden oars under his arm. He sits across from you, locks the oars into the oarlocks and starts rowing; his powerful arms rotating the paddles with ease, slicing them through the clear, calm water and gently gliding the boat across the lake.
The two of you sit in silence for a bit, and you look over the side of the boat in wonder as the sand bed below slowly disappears and the water gets darker and deeper. Sighing, you contently breathe in the fresh, crisp Fall air and enjoy the picturesque view of the far off shores and mountains before settling your gaze on the handsome man in front of you. The ripples and flex of Frankieâs bulging muscles under his shirt as he expertly rows are near mesmerizing, every hypnotic stroke powerful and purposeful.
âYouâre not having fun, are you?â
You look up, ashamed. You've been trying so hard to hide that you're not 100% comfortable being here, it's embarrassing to get confirmation that you've failed in this regard. Even if the others could tell you werenât having fun, you hope you havenât come off as an ungrateful guest or made any of your hosts feel bad. Youâre about to say so and apologize, but something about the way Frankieâs looking at you, kind and soft and not at all judgmental or accusatory, gives you pause. Itâs like heâs genuinely extending an opportunity for you to let go of what youâve been bottling up since you got here â maybe thatâs why he brought you out to the middle of the lake? Frankie's sincere eyes bore into your own and his gentle demeanor invites you to let down your guard; deflating, you burst into tears, âIâm not!! Iâm so sorry, Frankie!!â
Hurriedly, you try to compensate, âGoodness, please donât think Iâm complaining â itâs so beautiful and peaceful here, and Benny told me how much effort you guys have put into this place! Honestly, your care and hard work really shows â everything is so nice. Itâs just really, really different from the one other cottage experience Iâve had â so I didnât even pack right. And I thought there would be a lot more relaxing and lazing around â I really don't know what to do with myself here.â
âWhere did you cottage before?â
âThe Muskokas?â
Frankie lets out such a loud, belly-shaking laugh that shakes the whole boat; you actually hold onto the sides afraid you might tip over, but find yourself beaming at having drawn out this melodic sound from the normally stoic man.
âWell, City Girl, no wonder this place was a shock to you! The Muskokas is a very particular cottaging experience â real pretty and real glamourous. But the rest of us? What we have arenât even cottages. Theyâre cabins. This is cabin country,â he laughs good naturedly.
âRight - cabins!â you grin.
âSorry to disappoint you, City Girl.â
âNo, no! Please donât think that - Iâm not disappointed at all! I just came in with the wrong expectations, thatâs all. Thatâs all on me, Frankie. Really, the cabin is lovely â I was just expecting a more⌠cashmere sweaters and brandy snifters around the fireplace kind of a vibe.â You hope Frankie wonât take your joke the wrong way.
Luckily, Frankie gives you another easy smile, one that reveals an adorable dimple in his right cheek you havenât had a chance to notice before, âYeah, weâre more of a bats in the ceiling, on-going maintenance kind of vibe.â
At this, your face falls and your own shortcomings to contribute when everyone else is working so hard claws at your chest painfully.
Frankie immediately clocks the change in your demeanor, âHey, pretty girl, itâs okay.â
You look up at him with tears in your eyes, too distressed to notice the new nickname, âNo itâs not, Frankie. Youâre right â everyone is chipping in, helping out to keep this place beautiful and running smoothly, except me. Iâm not used to this kind work, so I donât really know what needs to get done⌠and even if I did⌠I mean you saw with the catamaran? Iâm not strong or skilled enough to do any of it. I thought I could help out with some of the indoor stuff, like cooking and cleaning up, but I donât know where anything is and everyone is so busy, I feel like such a nuisance bothering them even more in order to show me. So⌠I donât know what Iâm doing here â it doesnât feel right to be sitting around and reading like Iâm some kind of pampered houseguest while everyone around me is working, but I also donât think I can add value anywhere. I just donât think I belong out here with you guys. And I thought I was at least hiding it well, but it's obviously noticeable how much I donât fit in because you rowed me out here to confront me about it. Iâm sorry to be so much trouble, Frankie.â
You take a deep breath after your long speech and look down at your lap, more embarrassed than ever.
Frankie leans over from his seat, causing the boat to rock slightly and tilts your face up to his with two of his thick fingers, âYouâre no trouble at all, pretty girl. Itâs okay if this place is too rustic for ya. Itâs really rustic⌠and thatâs by design.â He smiles reassuringly, keen to comfort you, âI know Benny told you that this cabin is sort of therapy for us guys? We saw some... less-than-ideal things on a lot of our missions. All our missions, actually. The VA counsellors suggested that we try and work through having seen so much thatâs been broken, and maybe even having done some of the breaking ourselves, by getting a project where we come together as a team to focus on improving and building. Itâs meant to need constant ongoing maintenance and have a never-ending list of chores so we can put our energy into building up instead of what we used to do⌠tearing down. For the most part, the cabin has been good for us â working with our hands, being responsible for something that isnât life or death, working towards a common goal where we can be together and enjoy each otherâs company in a setting thatâs not⌠exploding.â
Frankie chuckles at his little joke so not to scare you off with the intensity of the topic. Heâs relieved to see that your expression is one of sympathy and understanding, your eyes warm and gentle. He thinks your eyes are beautiful, deep, kind â he might easily get lost in them if he didnât remember that heâs supposed to be comforting you, âIt really is meant for the five of us to be putting in the work, but I know what youâre saying, itâs not a great feeling to be left out, even if you know no oneâs doing it on purpose. Iâm sorry â we should be better hosts. Youâre our guest.â
You start to shake your head in protest at this, but Frankie stops you when he picks up the oars and dips them back in the water to start rowing again, âTell you what, itâs my turn to make lunch today - why donât you come and help me. Iâll show you where we keep everything so youâll know in case you ever want to⌠help out in the kitchen again. I promise you can ask me any questions you want and it wonât bother me at all.â
Perking up at Frankieâs generous offer, you nod happily, âOkay! Thank you, Frankie â thatâs really sweet of you.â Itâs probably the first truly joyful smile youâve smiled since you got here and Frankie thinks you look radiant.
The two of you glide slowly across the still lake in comfortable silence, Frankie purposefully not putting too much power into his oar strokes. Trying to discreetly wipe your cheeks, you feel their warmth as you spy on the handsome man across from you through your tear dotted lashes. You feel so safe and cared for - your heart grateful that Frankie noticed you were out of sorts despite having only met you a few days ago and was considerate enough to ask after you.
His teasing voice cuts through your thoughts, âIs there anything else, City Girl?â
âHmmmmm?â
âIs there anything else that's been bothering you while youâre out here?â
You bite your lip and shake your head; Frankie has been so kind, you donât want to push it and appear to complain.
âCome on, I know there is. Go on, pretty girl.â
Pretty girl â thereâs that term of endearment again. This time when you hear it, your heart swells and your face flushes â and maybe your thighs press together a little, too. To try and cover up your reaction, you spill your last embarrassing grievance, âUmmmm⌠itâs kind of spooky at night.â
Frankie booms another side-splitting, deep rumble of a laugh and you instantly feel better, âItâs just sooooo quiet and everyone is so far from one another. I guess Iâm used to background city noises and the feeling of people being around. It's been a bit unsettling laying in the dark in silence, hearing every little twig snap.â You cover your eyes, âPlus I packed so poorly for the trip because I thought it was going to be a⌠cottage. I definitely didnât bring warm enough clothes. I brought a TON of self-care stuff though â maybe I should try layering some face masks.â It feels so good to be able to lightheartedly make fun of yourself again.
Frankie laughs with you, then looks thoughtful, âOk, ok, the chilliness I think I can help you out with. The spookiness⌠got to circle back to that.â
âThanks, Frankie.â You mean it sincerely. Even having been able to talk to him about your unease makes you dread the upcoming night a lot less.
Back at the beach, Frankie hops out of the boat and reaches in to help you out - when your fingers touch his, a little spark lingers and your heartbeat picks up a bit. Hand in hand, the two of you walk back to the Main Cabin together, not letting go until you enter the kitchen.
---
After Frankie patiently shows you the pantry, the freezers, and where all the kitchen items are, he makes sure you have a passing familiarity with everything before the two of you make wraps for everyone. You find him to be endearingly funny, terribly sweet, and a wonderful conversationalist â Frankie tells you about his work and adventures as a charter pilot, and listens intently as you answer his questions about your work and life in the city. You almost regret calling everyone in for lunch, but the feeling of being able to offer people something after their morning of hard work has brightened your spirits significantly - it feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
You donât know that the obvious change in your countenance fills Frankie with pride and joy, nor do you see the way he gazes at you with fondness as you cheerfully hand out the wraps or when you jump up after lunch is over and hurry to clear the table.
The next day, youâre returning from a solo walk along the trail that runs behind the cabins on the bay, when you come upon an unfamiliar noise as you approach the boysâ property.Â
It sounds like a loud and sharp sudden crack accompanied by a low manly grunt, then followed by a couple of softer thuds. The echoing combination repeats it self at slightly varying intervals and gets progressively louder until you come upon its source.
From behind a large Spruce tree, you see that itâs Frankie chopping wood.
Frankie repeatedly brings his axe down on the log pieces heâs set up on the chopping block with precision and power. His sweat soaked shirt is stretched taut across his broad back, the damp fabric doing nothing but accentuate the thick muscles that flex and contract with every burly movement.
Though Frankieâs breathing is heavy, you can tell he isnât even close to being winded - his strength and rugged athleticism evident by the way he relentlessly labours on, splitting log after log.
Every subsequent swing of the axe captivates you further; a wetness pools in your mouth that you have to force yourself to swallow, lest it spill over and you get caught drooling.
"Wanna give me a hand, City Girl?"
Shit.
Emerging from behind what you now realize looks like a hiding spot, you give Frankie a sheepish smile, âOh, ummm⌠you look like you have it pretty well handled. Not sure if I could even make a dent in one of those logs.â
Frankie takes off his signature cap and uses the back of the same hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead - he chuckles and his eyes twinkle, âCould you help me gather and stack the wood I split onto that rack over there? And bring me new logs to chop from that other pile there?â
You nod enthusiastically. Frankieâs making work for you and youâre so thankful and excited to help.
For the next hour, you run around gathering the firewood that Frankie splinters and set him up with fresh logs. When you apologize that it takes you so long to carry the larger rounds to him, he tells you not to worry â it gives him a chance to catch his breath and take a much-needed rest. You donât tell Frankie that he doesnât look like he needs any rest at all â your own quickened breaths have very little to do with physical exertion and more to do with ogling Frankieâs broad and brawny frame, and the way the entirety of his strapping body is thrown into each axe swing, every muscle engaged, tensed. Itâs similar to the way he looked when he effortlessly rowed the two of you in the tin boat across the lake, but like⌠a hundred times more burly.
You try to distract yourself from openly drooling at Frankieâs sweat soaked torso by expertly arranging the firewood on the rack so that it fits perfectly together like a Tetris puzzle. When the last piece has been placed on top, Frankie marvels that the firewood storage has never looked more organized and with one hand still holding on to his axe, he takes your soft hand in his other and leads you down to lunch.
Over the next couple of days, you notice that Frankie goes out of his way to make sure youâre not alone or hiding out in any of the cabins.
He takes you out in Bennyâs truck to run in-town errands like picking up additional groceries or getting gas for the boat. These trips are always filled with fun and easy conversation and end with a treat at the ice cream shop on the main road. Frankie teases you on how you always flit from freezer to freezer, determined to try a flavour youâve never had, and you groan at how he sticks to his tried-and-true mint chocolate chip.
Youâre getting bolder at offering to do the indoor, more domestic tasks and chores that you know you have the skills to handle like making meals and cleaning up; more often than not, without you asking, Frankie will join you in the kitchen. Even though you tell him to relax and that he deserves rest after his physical exertions of the day, Frankie stays and hangs out - casually drying dishes, tasting your sauces, leaning his massive figure against the counter and discreetly pointing to various cabinets and drawers when you forget where things go.
Frankie makes you laugh with his quippy jokes and clever little observations, and he makes your cheeks warm with his subtle and sweet flirting. But mostly, he makes you feel so included, relaxed and accepted â his kindness at having taken you under his wing and giving priority to your comfort and enjoyment at the cabin makes your heart positively sing.Â
Since the day he took you out on the rowboat, Frankie has come to visit you in the Screened-In Veranda cabin every night. The first night, itâs to bring you extra blankets and one of his thick hoodies â all of it you accept gratefully; he also brings a pack of playing cards and the two of you play Big Two until you can barely keep your eyes open. Making sure you're bundled up in his hoodie, Frankie leaves you to sleep under a comically thick stack of blankets and happily swathed in his manly musk.
The next night, he brings you an old worn box of Rummy-O, explaining that he and the boys try to buy old games from garage sales to bring up to the cabin, even ones theyâve never played before. Youâve never played either, and for the next few nights, you and Frankie spread the tiles over your bedspread and become Rummy-O experts, stopping only when youâre too tired to keep playing - then and only then does Frankie leave you before traipsing back to his own cabin.
Embarrassingly, it takes you until tonight to figure out what he's up to.
âI know what youâre doing,â you grin in the dimly lit cabin as Frankie dons a Korean face mask and lets you give him a cuticle oil treatment.
âIâm getting pampered,â Frankie murmurs from where he lays, careful not to move his face lest the sheet mask slips.
âYouâve been keeping me company every night until I get sleepy so I donât have to lie here in the dark and be scared,â you look at him warmly, in awe of this tender-hearted manâs goodness.
You see one eye open in the eye hole cut-out of the mask and the corners of the one for the mouth tug up a little, âHas it been working?â
âYes and thank you. And I think your hoodie and the blankets you brought really helped too â the nights feels way cozier now.â
âGood. Iâm glad. Now do you have anything thatâs going to help with these bags under my eyes?â
You cackle, sure that the sound of your and Frankieâs joint laughter must carry clear across the lake.
Itâs the last night at the cabin and the whole group is out tonight for another bonfire. Youâre nice and snug in Frankieâs hoodie, giggling with Jenny, who you feel like youâve barely seen this whole week â she fills you in on all eight hundred of the adorable things Benny has done for her this week and youâre over the moon seeing her so completely in love. The entire group is in great spirits, toasting to another successful season at the cottage, all the shared memories, new and old stories to tell, and the delicious food eaten over this week. Your dinners for the latter half of the week are praised, and when you bury your face in the oversized sleeves of Frankie's hoodie in embarrassment, you feel his strong arm curl proudly around your shoulders and you positively kvell.Â
The drinks flow liberally tonight with no one needing to wake up early and the only chore on anyoneâs list being packing. About halfway through tonightâs bonfire, Frankie slips away from the group; everyone is too caught up in their own conversations to notice it, but you immediately miss having his comforting presence close by. Youâre just about to ask Jenny for the tea on why Tomâs sisters seemed to be giving Will the cold shoulder when you hear Frankieâs dulcet baritone low in your ear, âHey, City Girl, can I show you something?â
Getting up, you leave the others at the bonfire and follow Frankie back into the Main Cabin. He ushers you towards the main living room and when you enter, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks with a gasp. The darkened room is lit bright and warm from the fire that Frankieâs laid in the fireplace, the flames crackling slow and calm â he must have been stoking it for a while. In front of the glowing fire is a little carpeted area with cushions arranged purposefully to create a makeshift sitting area. In the middle sits two brandy snifters filled with an amber gold liquid.
âFrankie, whatâs all this?â you exclaim, eyes bright as you turn to look at the handsome, affectionate man who brought you here.
Gesturing for you to sit down in front of the gently roaring fire and handing you one of the glasses as you settle in, Franke shyly explains, âWasnât able to swing any cashmere sweaters, but I wanted to give you your brandy by the fireplace cottage experience.â
Rendered speechless by how cute and thoughtful Frankie is - all you can do is give him a doe-eyed look of awe as you sip the liquor he managed to procure. For you.
âThank you, Frankie. This is perfect. But if Iâm being honest, Iâve quite warmed up to the cabin experience,â you tease.
âGood,â the tenor of Frankieâs voice is warm with the undercurrent of whatâs not yet been spoken out loud.
As you both enjoy your fireside libations, you joke and flirt, keeping the conversation light - somehow tip-toeing around whatâs happening between the two of you. Your bodies, though, pay your shyness no mind, inching closer and closer until youâre practically in Frankieâs lap. The conversation grows quieter as words are replaced by looks of longing and want until all you seem to be doing is studying the dark and rough lines of Frankieâs face, the plushness of his lips, the adorable heart shaped patch in his facial scruff.
With one final sip of brandy, the soothing burn of the liquor down your throat gives you that final push of liquid courage and you drop your gaze from Frankieâs soft chocolate brown eyes down to his waiting mouth. Not so innocently, you lick you lips at the sight.
Then Frankie is on you, crashing his lips to yours â the empty snifters rolling away on the carpet as you pour yourself into his mouth, open wide and inviting. This first kiss is nothing short of sensual and desperate, the feelings that have been simmering over the past week boiling over until youâre both a mess of tongues, moans and clashing teeth.
âOh Frankie,â your soft whimpers a welcomed song to his ears, Frankie returns your sentiments by licking behind your teeth, exploring and stroking into your receptive mouth with a fiery passion. His hands maneuver you to straddle him so that he can better feel you, roaming your back until one hand comes to a rest at the nape of your neck, the other under one of the pert globes of your ass, using them as leverage to press you flush against his chest.
As your hands go to run through Frankieâs soft waves, you knock his favourite cap onto the ground and you giggle loudly when it lands near the now forgotten brandy snifters with a little thud. Frankie feels himself harden at the melodic sound.
You make out like teenagers, tongues dancing and teeth nibbling until you both run out of air and have no choice to break apart, panting.
âBeen wanting to do that since I saw you your first day here, City Girl,â admits Frankie, eyes tender and sincere as he rests his forehead against yours.
Leaning in to lightly peck his lips, youâre surprised but canât help teasing, âWhat took you so long, Morales?â
Frankie chuckles, though his eyes flash with a bolt of insecurity, âWasnât sure you would want to. Benny said something about how he wanted to try and set you up with Will.â
Your face scrunches up with astonishment - so Jenny wasnât just being facetious! But you quickly cup Frankieâs face and run your thumbs reassuringly through his adorable scruff, âI donât know anything about that. But what I do know is that I canât resist a kind hearted, handsome man who goes out of his way to take care of me, never judges me and makes me feel comfortable without pushing me to be someone Iâm not. You, Frankie â I canât imagine wanting anyone but you to kiss me.â
Taking this as the invitation it is, Frankie slots his mouth over yours once more. This second kiss is slower, deeper, and full of promise. You sigh as Frankieâs tongue slides over yours in a slow and intimate waltz and his lips find yours again and again and again.
âQuerida,â he murmurs, âwhen we get back to the city, can I take you out to dinner?â
Grinning at having earned yourself another nickname, you tuck yourself into the nook under Frankieâs chin and press one, two, three soft kisses to his neck while nodding, âIâd love that, Frankie.â
The next morning you wake up well rested, with a strong arm banded over your body and Frankieâs hard chest pressed up against your back. Slipping slowly back to consciousness, you canât help but smile as the memories of the previous night come flooding back. Frankie came back up to your cabin with you and stayed to keep you company as he had the previous nights, but instead of games or spa treatments, he kept you awake with the hard and soft kisses of his expert mouth and innocent touches that by the end of the night, didnât feel quite so innocent anymore. Lips swollen after hours of making out, Frankie had tucked in with you under the covers and held you close, lulling you to sleep with evenness of his breathing and the soothing rise and fall of his chest. Rolling over, you find Frankie already slowly blinking awake, âGood morning, City Girl. Did you sleep okay?â
You nod into his shoulder, âSlept perfect, Frankie. Coziest night here with my own personal furnace.â
Frankie chuckles, âI like waking up with you like this, pretty girl. Like seeing you wearing my clothes, too.â
Shyly, you gaze into Frankieâs eyes, heart beating faster at his look of adoration, âI like it too, Frankie. Waking up with you, wearing your clothes.â
After some tender and sweet kisses under the covers, the two of you manage to get out of bed so you can pack and get ready for the trip home.
Right before he closes the door to the Screened-In Veranda Cabin, Frankie turns around, âWanna ride with me on the way back, City Girl?â
âSure! What about Santi and Will?â You canât help but get excited about the prospect of a long road trip with Frankie.
âThey can go with Benny. Or Tom. Well at least Santi can ride with Tom. Donât think Tomâs sisters will let Will into Tomâs truck,â Frankie looks genuinely amused and you once again spot that cute dimple make an appearance in his right cheek.
âOmigod! I meant to ask Jenny about that â what happened??â
Frankie throws you a heart-stopping wink, one that nearly sends your knees buckling, âTell you on the way home, querida.â
---
A few hours later, everyoneâs packed bags are stowed in their respective cars, the cabins locked, boats put away for the winter, and sheets and laundry stripped to go back to the city to be cleaned.
âReady to go, City Girl?â grins Frankie, âBet you canât wait to get home.â
Buckling your seatbelt and looking fondly at the sweet man who made sure you felt seen and cared for this week, you say, almost wistfully, âItâs not that bad here.â
Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, Frankie nuzzles your nose affectionately with his before putting the car in reverse. Steering the wheel one-handedly with his other big paw cupping the back of your headrest, he winks, âCottage country ainât got nothing on cabin country, am I right, querida?â
You giggle as he straightens out the car and take the hand that Frankieâs holds out to you over the centre console, âOnly the cashmere sweaters, but other than that, nothing.â
Frankie brings your hand up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles as he starts down the windy dirt road in the direction of the city, âAn easy fix for next time, City Girl.âÂ
Biting your lip to keep from smiling too much, you nod happily in agreement. Next time.
#tropeoff2024#frankie morales#frankie morales fic#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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Trailer park Steve AU part 10
part 1 | part 9 | ao3
cw: recreational drinking
When they get to Eddieâs trailer, Steveâs mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.
Thereâs just static on the screen.
âSteve?â she slurs when she finally realizes theyâre there. Sways a little when she stands. Thereâs a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.
Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.
âOh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.â She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.
âMa, justâŚâ he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. âJust go home, okay?â The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesnât think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. âGet some rest. Iâll be over in a bit.â
âSure, baby.â He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like heâs a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room â the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steveâs annoyed he likes so much â like sheâs just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, âThis place is dreadful, isnât it?â
âMom.â
âHmm?â she asks, but sheâs already drifting out the door.
Steveâs face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??
Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, sheâs on the good shit, huh?â
Steve whips his head around. Eddieâs eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe heâd take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.
But also, like.
It is a little funny.
Or maybe itâs so unfunny that it circles back around.
âJesus, man,â he huffs, âSorry. I donâtâ I donât know why sheâŚâ
âSâfine,â Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. ââŚYou want a beer?â
âFuck.â That sounds so nice. âYeah. Please.â
âHave a seat.â
Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of âoh heavens no, I couldnât possibly impose.â Whoâs got the energy for that?
The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but heâs too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.
Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.
"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."
Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"
Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steveâs too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...
Whatever. It's old news.
Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"
Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"
"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."
âAhâ!â Eddieâs jaw drops in offense. âEx-cuse you!â
God, of course heâs more dramatic than all the kids combined.
Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.
Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."
"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"
Steve grins and wipes his mouth.
â
They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.
Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"
"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."
"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."
"A what story?"
"How am I the one who hasnât graduated yet?"
Then later:
âDude, Batman? Seriously?â
âHeâs the worldâs greatest detective!â
âHeâs a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your wholeâŚâ Steve gestures at his tattoos.
âWhatever, Spiderfan.â
And later still:
"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Yâknow this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadnât died."
Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. Itâs too insensitive, too soon.
Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"
â
They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.
"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,â he scratches the back of his neck, âI mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."
Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that heâs got his shoes up on the couch; and thereâs dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."
Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,â he says, âyou're fine. You can stay if you want.â
Steve moves out of his hold. âNah, get some sleep; Iâll see ya around.â
Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like heâs in the wrong, like Eddie isnât the one who just kicked him out.
Like maybe Steveâs just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.
Who's the fucking coward now?
â
part 11
y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69
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Part 3
Part 1 - Part 2
Eddieâs pretty sure heâs never thought about kissing another guy. He rarely thinks about kissing anybody. For the longest time, he was convinced that no one would ever want to kiss him, so he never saw the point in dwelling on it.Â
But maybe that was unusual. He might have mistaken his apathy for normalcy when really heâs the freak. The average person probably thinks about kissing an awful lot. Heâs listened to Jeff talk about asking out Lacy from his calculus class and Gareth go on and on about how unfair it is that he canât make out with his boyfriend behind the bleachers to know that the average high schooler is pretty horny.Â
Yet, Eddieâs childhood wasnât littered with school yard crushes. There arenât fond memories of girls that he imagined sneaking off with during lunch period or recess. Thereâs justâŚnothing. A part of that was his rocky childhood and jumping from his parents, to just his dad, to Wayne. But a lot of it was pure disinterest in the hottest girl in their grade growing breasts before all the other girls, or how tenth grade Mandy would make out with anyone with the right incentive.Â
Heâs never thought about it long enough for anything to stick. He figured, one day, when he was old enough to escape Hawkins and all the small minded bigots who think heâs a devil worshiper, that he would find a girl that appreciated his specific eccentricities. That heâd settle down somewhere quiet, a little closer to the city than Hawkins, and find some blue collar job and start a family. Thatâs just what everyone does, right?
He knows thatâs not true, though. That everyone doesnât follow that path. He knows people like Gareth and Robin, and apparently Steve, donât get to just walk into happily ever after. Thereâs no white picket fence in their future, and Eddieâs never had to confront that reality so head on before. He knows what itâs like to be different. To have a target on your back. But, itâs nothing like the ostracization of being gay.Â
Thinking about kissing Steve scares him. When he closes his eyes, itâs a looping replay of that day. Steveâs soft lips on his unmoving ones. Big hands cradling his face. He can perfectly recall the terror and confusion. Itâs seeped into his bones now, because heâs realized something about himself and he doesnât know what to do with the information.Â
He can do nothing. He can move forward and pretend that he doesnât wake up panting, picturing Steve on top of him pressing him into the mattress with their faces attached. He doesnât ever have to acknowledge that for the first time in twenty years of living, heâs having honest to god wet dreams that involve another person. And that person heâs envisioning is a guy. Everything can just be swept under the rug.
But heâs pretty sure it scares him more to know that he canât. Itâs eating away at him. Eddie feels trapped in his own skin. The truth is clawing its way to the surface, wanting to break free, even if Eddieâs shutting down as it tries to spill out. He knows itâs inevitable, that overflow. The dam breaking.Â
It takes an intervention to set everything in motion. Wayneâs been fussing over him for weeks. Heâs been doing that worried parent thing that he thinks Eddie doesnât know about, where he stands outside Eddieâs closed bedroom door like he wants to knock and say something, but doesnât. Heâs studying Eddie over their morning cereal like the little floating letters are going to spell out why Eddieâs been holed up in his room almost mute.Â
But the final straw is when Wayne comes home from work to Eddie painting figurines on the stairs of their new trailer while pretending that heâs not watching Steve help Max fold laundry next door. Thereâs this polite distance between them and Eddie that didnât exist before, this wide expanse where before Eddie wouldâve been sitting on the picnic table in front of Maxâs trailer teasing both of them, or maybe helping if it was a low pain day.Â
Instead, heâs sat like a toddler in timeout, taking furtive peaks over the little paint brushes and praying that Maxâs sharp intuition about situations like this is dulled by her literal lack of being able to see Eddie from over there. Steve can see him, though, and Eddieâs feigning that it doesnât bother him. What a grave heâs dug for himself here.Â
âBoy, donât you think this has gone on long enough?â Wayne sighs as he climbs out of his truck, this world-weary, too knowledgeable sigh that makes Eddie squirm.Â
âI donât know what you mean, old man.â Better to just play ignorant. Even though Eddieâs pretty sure he canât escape Wayneâs withering gaze. He hasnât in over ten years, so he likely wonât be starting now.Â
Wayne just stares at him. A raised eyebrow and crossed arms that tell Eddie he means business. Heâs not getting out of this.Â
Eddieâs jaw shifts and he looks down at the figure in his hands. âI donât really know what to do, Wayne.âÂ
âMove over,â Wayne says, settling down beside Eddie until theyâre shoulder to shoulder, barely waiting for the little shuffle Eddie does to make room. He doesnât say anything for a moment. Just stares across the yard in the same direction Eddie was moments before, a contemplative look on his face. âThis about that boy?â
Eddie follows his gaze over to Steve. His silence goes on a little too long before he softly says, âyeah.âÂ
Wayne hums, still looking at Steve. âYou know, you always were a late bloomer.â
That grabs Eddieâs attention. He turns towards Wayne, who takes that as his cue to continue, and sets down the figure behind them.Â
âNothing ever happened when I thought it would when you were a boy. Lizzy said you took forever to walk and talk. I kept waiting for you to come to me about the birds and the bees, but you didnât. Not sure if that was a good thing to let go, but I knew you werenât getting yourself into trouble. Probably wasnât much I could offer you that public school wasnât already teaching you.âÂ
Eddie wonders briefly if he shouldâve hidden the condoms in his room better, but maybe thatâs what gave Wayne the confidence to leave Eddie to his business. Even if they were collecting dust before they became dust that day the trailer cracked open.
âYou never brought anyone around.â He nods in the direction of Steve. âNot until him.âÂ
The conversation with Steve is distantly replaying in his head. How he went over their every interaction with Robin and they came to this same conclusion. Maybe Eddie really is an idiot.Â
âIt wasnât intentional,â Eddie adds. âI didnât know what I was doing.âÂ
âI donât think anyone knows what theyâre doing, son. Thatâs part of life.â He pats Eddie on the back. âItâs âspecially a part of being in love.âÂ
Eddieâs not sure heâs willing to start that train of thought, yet. Heâs grateful for the quiet, unspoken acceptance, but heâs not ready to think about labeling it something as profound as love. He flounders for a second before saying, âI think Iâve missed my chance there,â as he looks back over at Steve.Â
âAre you dead and I donât know it?â He squeezes Eddieâs shoulder. âSeem pretty real to me.â He whacks Eddieâs head gently. âAinât nothing missed if youâre still alive to make things right.âÂ
âHey!â Eddie laughs, mock offended at the attack, rubbing the back of his head and leaning away from Wayne. âIsnât it socially unacceptable to joke about someone that was legally dead for almost three minutes?â
âI think I get leeway as the one that kept you alive for ten years by myself.â Wayne wrangles him into a side hug, pulling him to his chest with an arm around his neck. âJust cause things are broken, doesnât mean you canât fix âem, son.â
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#katie writes#look i'm trying to fix this and give everyone the happy ending i promised#i swear
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Steel Magnolia
Part 1 - paused
Simon âGhostâ Riley x fem!plus size!reader
No use of y/n
Rating: Mature/MDNI
Word Count: 2.1k
Authorâs Note: I just recently got back into fandom spaces and reading fanfic again and looooove the uptick in fat Y/N characters. Ofc as a big girl myself I wanted to try my hand at writing one too.
Hopefully Iâll post this on AO3 soon. Whenever I get my invite so I can make an acc.
âOh! Darlinâ, did ya see those boys next door?â Mrs. Duprey gasps as you swipe the last of her Bubble Bath OPI polish across her fingers.
âNext door?â You cock an eyebrow. âNo oneâs been next door since Adam and Eve.â
âI saw them on the way in!â She grins, the corners of her eyes wrinkling pleasantly. âStrappinâ young men - yâshould talk tâ âem.â
You roll your eyes. âIâm sure I will sooner or later, maâam.â
âYouâve been single too long.â The nosey old bat contributes. As much as you love her she truly cannot leave well enough alone.
âAnd Iâm perfectly content as such.â You give her your warmest smile.
The trailer home across from you has remained empty for as long as you can remember. Itâs well kept - sometimes you see random gardeners mowing or going in an out with tool bags - but no one lives there permanently. Youâd think in a beach town it would at least belong to some snowbirds. A timeshare, maybe. Itâs none of those things, though. Just a well-maintained, perfectly empty husk.
Thereâs a metaphor in there somewhere, probably.
Sure enough, as you walk Mrs. Duprey out of your little single wide trailer, you spot a black SUV parked out front of the neighboring double wide. One that is definitely *not* a repair man or workerâs vehicle. She coos at you to make sure to talk to them before waddling off to her own car. She really shouldnât be driving at her age. You wonder briefly - futilly- if sheâd sell you her car in exchange for rides.
You suppose sheâs right - even if it is for the wrong reasons. Youâre not particularly interested in flirting with the new neighbors. After all, donât fuck where you eat is a saying for a reason, but it wouldnât exactly be neighborly to not introduce yourself. Especially with all the people coming and going from your home for your nail tech services. The old Yankeeâs catty-cornered from you still believe that you're a drug dealer. At least they only come down for a couple months of the year.
Despite your staunch decision not to flirt, you still find yourself adjusting your clothes. Maybe the sports bra as a top is a bit muchâŚ
Fuck it. If they live here now theyâll see you in worse.
You fix your lipstick and throw on your platform sandals. The ones that clip-clop as you walk. Maybe it will help announce your presence.
The screen door wraps quietly as you knock. You take two steps back on the front, wooden porch so as not to come off too aggressively. As the seconds tick by you debate on knocking again. Maybe theyâre out. Or busy. They did just move in today, most likely. Maybe you should-
The door creaks slightly as it opens. A very, painfully handsome man pushes the screen door until it clicks in place. âAfternoon, lassie.â
You blink stupidly as he crosses his strong arms and leans on the doorframe. His eyes are a striking shade of blue - somehow both sharp and soft. His dark hair is shaped into a slightly grown-out, un-styled mohawk. It fits him oddly enough.
âI, uh,â you take a deep breath. Christ you need to get laid if just *looking* at a hot guy has you this off kilter. âI live across the way. Just wanted tâ say welcome tâ tha neighborhood.â
That lopsided smile on his face grows into a grin. You donât miss the way his eyes catch on your chest. âAye? Nice tae meet ye. Names John MacTavish. Mâfriends call me Johnny.â
He gives your hand an extra little squeeze after shaking it. That accent might as well have you on the floor. You continue to blink dumbly, watching the at the scar on his chin stretches as he speaks.
Christ almighty, youâre pathetic.
âNice to meetâya.â You give him a warm smile, tilting your head to the side slightly. âYaâll here for vacation? We donât get many Europeans âround here.â
He chuckles. Itâs low and rumbling and would probably feel wonderful with your ear pressed to his chest. âLittle bit o��� business, little bit oâ pleasure. This anâ thaâ.â
âHello, there.â Another man pops up from behind Johnny suddenly. Fucking hell, heâs gorgeous too. Older, for sure, with a uniquely cut beard that would probably look rather silly on anyone less handsome. At it stands, he manages to make it appear dignified.
âAh, jusâ about tae call fer ye, Cap. This is our neighbor.â Johnny gestures toward you.
âJohn Price.â The man steps forward to shake your hand. Itâs firm and professional and thank god your grandad made you practice a good handshake as a kid or youâd be painfully embarrassed.
âAre all UK men named John or is this just some sorta cult?â You blurt, unable to stop yourself from snickering at them.
Older John chuckles at you fondly, his facial hair giving him a pleasant U-shaped smile. âBe easier to remember that way, wouldnât it? No, weâre with two others. Kyle and Simon. Theyâre out at the moment.â
âKyle and Simon.â You repeat, nodding. Johnny, John, Kyle, Simon. âAre yâall in town long?â
âIndefinitely.â Is all Price gives you. Itâs a tone that even someone as dense as you can recognize as âdonât ask more.â
You clap your hands together and smile a little wider, ready to make your exit. âWell, Iâm not here tâbe a bother, just wanted tâ welcome ya and, uh, let yâknow that I have a lot of people over throughout the day - Iâm a nail tech. They shouldnât bother ya but yâknow.â
âYe can come bother us anytime, bonnie.â The Scot hits you with that grin again and your face suddenly feels far too hot.
A loud, whining screech sounds off from down the road. You check your watch. Holy shit, three-thirty already. You begin to back off the porch. âAh, nice tâ meet ya again! See ya âround!â
As you jog down the little dirt road of the trailer park another black car passes you. Itâs smaller, a sedan. You make very brief eye contact with a blonde wearing a surgical mask and another man with the sharpest golden eyes youâve ever seen - even through the tint of the window.
*Kyle and Simon,* you think.
You make a mental note to greet them at some point and continue down the street. The school bus slowly stops at the entrance and you take up your spot in the small crowd of parents. ITâs a shabby old bus - chipping paint and break pads that sounds like theyâre about ready to snap. Itâs all theyâre willing to send out to your little section of the city, though.
Shelby meanders over in your direction, her usual Camel Crush lit up in one hand and the other teasing her already well-lifted hair. âAfternoon. Saw there was some new folks across from ya.â
âHm?â You keep your eyes on the bus. âAh, yeah. Just vacationers, I think.â
âLookers, though.â She chuckles.
âTheyâre from the UK.â You offer.
âNo shit!â Shelby stamps out her cigarette as the bus doors open. âAccent and all?â
âYep.â You grin.
Shelby tsks and fiddles with her hair again. âI best go over anâ make myself known, then.â
âThereâs an older fella with a neat beard. Think youâd like âem.â You snicker.
She hums. âIâll bring a pie.â
The children practically burst out of the bus doors, as always. Ready to be home and shuck off their backpacks to their respective adult. Shelbyâs son almost knocks her over, offering a little âGood afternoon, maâam!â to you before heading off with his mother.
You nod to him, shoving a hand in your pocket as you wait for yours. Sheâs always the last. Always caught up in a book or something and doesnât realize itâs time to get off of the bus. Sure enough, the driver has to call back to her before the little girl comes dashing out. She jumps off of the bus steps, despite being told time and time again not to, and kicks a rock on her way toward you.
You bow low for her. âWelcome home, Lady Sophie.â
She giggles, dark curls bouncing as she skips over. âNi-ni!â
You take her bag from her. The thing really does dwarf the poor six year old. Her hand slips into yours easily. Soft and round and somehow always so much warmer than yours.
âMy nail color chipped!â She announces, holding up her ring finger on the opposite hand.
âOh! Now we canât have that. Iâll fix it tonight.â You smile, waving at old Mr.Chester as the two of you pass.
âWell now!â He calls. âHow blessed am I to see two such lovely ladies!â
You both giggle, continuing on your way. Heâs a good landlord - spotted you more than a few times when Sophie was a baby and you couldnât work consistently. Honestly, as you look around, the little community that heâs managed to build in this shitty corner of the world should be praised. Housing just enough snowbirds to cover his property costs while keeping rent low for the full time locals. Maybe you could convince Natalie at the paper to run a little story on it or something.
As you pull up to your own home, the blonde man is outside leaning on the front of their double wide. Seeing him standing at full height makes your blood run cold. The man is built like a damn barn - tall and wide. Beyond solid. *Brick shithouse*. Itâs a bit weird that heâs covered in clothing head to toe but whatever. Weirder things have happened before. The mask still covers his face, you wonder if he had taken it off before you came up or just flipped it up to smoke.
âSophie, head on in. Iâll catch up.â You push her toward the door. She scampers in, the screen door slamming behind her as you march up to the brick shithouse of a man in front of you.
âWhich are ya? Kyle or Simon?â You smile, holding out your hand to shake.
Dark eyes rake over you, stopping briefly on your hand, before moving back to meet yours. He stomps out the half smoked cigarette. âSimon.â
You let your hand drop. Bit rude, this one. âNice t meetcha.â
The other man pops his head out of the trailer. Kyle, you assume. âOh. Hello.â
âHi.â You smile as warmly as you can, giving your name. âIâm assuminâ yer Kyle.â
âYeah.â He chuckles. âIâm guessing youâre the neighbor Price mentioned.â
You nod, about to speak again but Simon shoves past you, marching his way up the steps. âLetâs go.â He grunts, pushing the other man back into the trailer despite his protests.
You wrinkle your nose at him. What an asshole.
âWhoâs thaâ?â Sophie asks over the back of the old, worn couch as you let the trailer door slam behind you.
âNew neighbors.â You say simply, glancing out the window. âDonât go over there without me, yeah?â
âOkay!â She agrees, sitting back on the couch and bouncing, beginning her usual post school chant. âBluey! Bluey! Bluey!â
You drop her backpack down beside the small coffee table. âAfter yer homework.â
âNooo!â She pouts.
âThen no Bluey.â
Sophie pouts harder but crawls down in front of the coffee table and pulls out her little work sheets. At least the school doesnât over run them too terribly with homework toward the end of the year. You glance at the calendar. Wednesday, May 22nd. Damn, she really only has about a week left. Though, youâd be lying if you said you werenât looking forward to this summer break with her. Sheâs old enough now that you can take her places like the arcade without having to wait on her so much. Youâll actually be able to play some of the two-player games.
Plus, this year, you actually have a little more pocket change to make it fun.
You turn to look out the window once more at the new neighbors. Their curtains remain closed, cars neatly parked out front. The door opens slowly, the hot Scot and rude blonde wander to the Sedan. Simonâs shoulders shake at something Johnny said - you think heâs laughing but its hard to tell with that mask. Johnnyâs head turns, blue eyes meeting yours through the shitty glass windows of your trailer. You squeak and duck to sit next to Sophie, praying that he didnât catch you staring.
#simon x reader#fanfiction#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#fanfic#call of duty#plus size reader#fat reader#ghost cod#cod x reader#cod mw2#holly writes
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steddie | 1,7k words | angst | mature
Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 13
Prompt: "Please, Stay"
Read Part 1 | Part 2
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Eddie spends a lot of time having no words.Â
As Steve carries him back to the beemer, Eddie doesn't have words. He hums against Steve's shoulder when Steve asks him if it's ok for him to put him down but in reality he would very much like to keep clinging to Steve.Â
He has no words as Steve pats his pockets until he finds his keys to open the trailer door and he almost says something to calm Steve down about Wayne not being there but Steve doesn't seem worried about it.
Which really should clue him in that there are things he is unaware of, but his face is bloodied and his chest hurts every time he breathes and he doesn't have energy to worry about it.Â
Steve carries him to the couch and puts him down gently, but it still hurts.Â
Eddie closes his eyes when his head hits the pillow but he lets out a low groan when he feels Steve moving away.Â
"I need to clean you," Steve says and Eddie can hear him moving through the trailer. Maybe he should feel embarrassed, but he doesn't.Â
Steve Harrington is at his house after all. If Eddie plays his cards right maybe he'll get his Star Wars marathon after all.Â
When he comes back, Eddie almost says something, but then Steve is touching him and it hurts but it's also so good. He's gentle and sweet and he bats Eddie's hands away when he tries to touch his cut.Â
"Behave, Eddie," Steve says, and Eddie groans, but he abides.Â
When he's done, Eddie immediately misses his touch.Â
"I'm gonna get you something for the pain. I think you might have a broken rib and the best advice I can give you is to rest and wait until it's healed."
Eddie groans again and delights himself with Steve's laugh as he walks around the trailer as if he belongs there. Eddie imagined someone like Steve wouldn't feel comfortable in a shithole like the trailer.Â
Not that Eddie doesn't love it. He does. So fucking much. But Steve lives in a mansion, his bedroom alone is probably bigger than Eddie's entire house.Â
Steve comes back and he helps Eddie to sit down. He feels better, even if everything still hurts. But he's home and Steve's there because he found him by some miracle and now he's putting a glass of water to Eddie's lips and helping him swallow a pill that will probably make him sleepy.Â
Steve smiles proudly when Eddie drinks the entire glass and moves to put it back in the kitchen and that's when Eddie sees it.Â
His eyes move to their old center table and he knows what he's going to find there. One of his Star Wars cassettes that he was too lazy to put away the other day.Â
Maybe he could get away with suggesting they watch it but as his brain is considering the best way to ask Steve that, he spots something that so obviously doesn't belong there he has no idea how he hadn't noticed it before.Â
A big bouquet of flowers. Red roses, if Eddie is not mistaken.Â
He moves even as his entire body seems about to catch on fire and grabs it, pulling it closer to smell it.Â
They smell good. Eddie doesn't think he ever saw such gorgeous flowers and he knows for a fact Wayne didn't buy them. He's more of a Peonies kind of guy.Â
Which only leaves...
"Oh, uh, sorry, I shouldn't have-" Steve says once he's back, and he moves to get the flowers but Eddie holds on to them.Â
"Did you really stood up a date to go rescue me?" Eddie asks, and he doesn't know why he does it.
Steve frowns as he looks down at Eddie, "Oh, no, the flowers are-"
Eddie breaks eye contact with Steve because he feels bad now. Glances at the clock, it's almost nine.Â
"If you show up at her doorstep with these flowers, I bet she'll forgive you for missing the date," Eddie says, and then he raises the bouquet in Steve's direction so he can take it. "I'm sorry I got in the way."
Steve grabs the flowers and Eddie thinks this is it, he's going to leave and Eddie will be left alone to lick his wounds. But then he puts them back on the table and kneels in front of Eddie.Â
"Don't be sorry. I was worried about you and I'm glad I trusted my gut," Steve says and he does the sweetest thing, cupping Eddie's face and looking directly into his eyes.
Eddie feels... naked. Completely stripped of his attitude and his snark and everything else he uses to protect himself.Â
The worst of it all is that it feels good. He feels a calm washing over him when he's this close to Steve. He has no idea when his dynamic with Steve changed from the King and the Freak to this.Â
To Steve on his knees on the trailer being the one fucking good thing in Eddie's life right now.Â
But Eddie knows better than to believe that things are really like this. That even if Steve is something good in his life, he knows it's not the same for Steve. Eddie is still just his drug dealer, the one person who can get him some weed for free.Â
"You don't have to do that," Eddie says and Steve raises a brow. Up this close, Eddie can count the freckles on his face and he's trying so hard not to stare at his lips.Â
"Do what?"
"Take care of me," Eddie says even as he's cringing inside. Even as if all he ever wanted was someone to take care of him like Steve is doing and now he's pushing him away.Â
"I don't mind," Steve says as his thumb moves on Eddie's cheek.
It's too soft and Eddie is all sharp edges.Â
"You don't have to do that to get free weed."
Steve pulls back as if he got burned. There's a shift in his expression that Eddie hates and he thinks maybe this is the reason he has nothing good in his life.Â
"Maybe I should go," Steve says and Eddie feels it on a molecular level. He doesn't want Steve to go but he doesn't know how to ask him to stay.Â
"Don't forget the flowers," Eddie says and Steve looks at him like he's insane.Â
"Eddie," he says softly. Eddie sees him almost reaching his hand but giving up mid-air.Â
"She probably won't even care about the flowers, dude. If you show up looking like this, she'll take you anyway."
Steve presses his lips together. He's annoyed, Eddie can tell, but he has no idea why. Eddie is complimenting Steve and the fact that all he has to do is smile and then he has any girl he wants.Â
"That's good, because the flowers weren't for 'her'," Steve says the last word making air quotes and Eddie doesn't get it.Â
"I'm not following," Eddie says. He's still on the couch and Steve is still on his knees and it's so fucking weird.Â
"There's no girl, Eddie," Steve says and maybe Eddie hit his head when he fell because this doesn't make sense.Â
"Are they for your mother?" He asks and even as he does it he knows it's a dumb question. Steve doesn't talk about his family a lot, but from the little he does, Eddie knows his mom is not the flower type.Â
She would need to be around for his son to get her flowers.Â
"You know they are not for my mother. I carried you inside, Eddie. How the hell would I've brought the flowers too?"
Eddie stares at him as he lets the words sink in. It's a little embarrassing that Steve had him in his arms, especially because he could've walked on his own but Steve felt warm and nice and Eddie had no idea when he would have him this close again.Â
"The flowers were already here," Eddie says under his breath and he can't lie, Steve's exasperated expression is kind of cute.Â
"The flowers were already here," Steve repeats as if Eddie needs him to. And maybe he does because that doesn't make sense unless...
"Were you here waiting for me? Did Wayne let you in?"
Steve smiles and claps his hands once as if he's proud of Eddie for figuring it out.Â
"I was waiting for you. And Wayne did let me in. I was actually waiting in my car because I didn't know if you'd appreciate me meeting your uncle like this, but he tapped on my window and said he knew who I was and told me I could wait inside if I wanted. He had to leave and said you'd probably be here soon and then you weren't and I started getting worried and I decided to go look for you."
Steve says all in one go and Eddie feels glued in place as he looks at him. Wayne knows Eddie's been sporting a huge crush on Steve for months and he knows his uncle was delighted that he would have something to mock Eddie with.Â
"Why were you waiting for me?" Eddie asks and he feels dumb as the words leave his mouth but Steve just smiles fondly, as if he thinks it's cute that Eddie is that naive.Â
"With flowers," Steve adds and Eddie sighs.Â
"Why were you waiting for me with flowers, Steve?"
"Because," Steve says and Eddie's afraid he's not going to elaborate. That he's going to leave Eddie to figure out for himself and worse, that he's just going to leave because he can't take Eddie's dumbness. "I was hoping the flowers would make my intentions clear."
"I'm not sure they did," Eddie says, eyeing the flowers behind Steve. They are nice. The kind of flowers you get for someone you really care about.Â
"Eddie!" Steve says and Eddie snorts because he's being a little shit on purpose. "I'm going to leave."
"Please, Steve," Eddie says and he has him again. Doe eyes and full attention on him. "Please, stay."
Steve smiles and nods and Steve leans in and Eddie thinks he's going for a kiss but he just hugs Eddie and for now, that's enough.Â
#i'm sorry#I know you want them to kiss#and they will#but they have to suffer a little bit more first#steddie#angst#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries
Summary: Eddie gets a not-so-sweet surprise when Hendrix takes some song lyrics a bit too literally.
TW: the briefest allusion to smut (referencing chapter 1), minor spousal conflict
WC: 1.5k
A/N: Based on an idea given to me by none other than @corroded-hellfire đ y'all wanted more of Hendrix, so here he is!
April 2003
The sedan rattles along the winding road to Forest Hills Trailer Park, pebbles crunching beneath the tires. Sunday nights meant dinner at Wayneâs, a tradition that you and Eddie both vowed to keep as long as possible.
A familiar intro trills over the carâs radio. Eddieâs eyes leave the road for a brief second to meet yours.Â
Step inside Walk this way You and me babe Hey hey!
âOur song, Sweetheart.â Your husband grins, right hand slipping from the steering wheel to crank the volume louder. He sings along, just as animated as he was that first night at The Hideout.Â
Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on Livin' like a lover with a radar phone Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp Demolition woman, can I be your man?
âDad, what the heck?â Harris grumbles from the backseat. At eleven years old, he flips between adoration and annoyance with astounding speed.Â
âYeah, what the heck?â Hendrix echoes his brother, though his smile is a far cry from Harrisâs exasperated eye roll.Â
Eddie relents, twisting the knob just enough to be heard over Joe Elliottâs vocals.Â
âThis is the song I sang that had Mom falling in love with me.â Thereâs a teasing glimmer in his eyes, daring you to disagree with him.Â
You eagerly take the bait.Â
âLove is a strong word,â you counter. The night you and Eddie met was steeped in memories of longing and lust, of giving into your desires in what was supposed to be a fling.Â
A fling thatâs been happening for nearly seven years and counting.Â
Eddie sits forward suddenly, snapping the volume knob so Def Leppard once again reverberates through the car. âWaitâŚthis is the best part!â He yells back to his sons, taking an extended pause at a stop sign to headbang.Â
Pour some sugar on me Ooh, in the name of love Pour some sugar on me C'mon, fire me up Pour your sugar on me I can't get enough
He leans in, smushing his lips against your cheek, as he sings along.Â
Iâm hot, sticky sweet From my head to my feet, yeah!
You playfully shove him away, giggles betraying the irritated exterior youâre trying to uphold.Â
From the backseat, Hendrix pipes up. âWhat does that mean?â
Without missing a beat, Harris instigates further. âYeah, Dad. What does this song mean?â
Damn pre-teens. If thereâs no trouble to be found, theyâll make some.Â
Eddie swears under his breath, cheeks flushing red as he tries to find a response suitable for his three-year-old. âWell, um, heâs justâŚâ he falters, any and all explanations fleeing his head. He improvises song lyrics on the fly when he forgets the real ones on stage, but now his brain short-circuits? Convenient.
Luckily, youâre used to fielding questions from little kids; one of the benefits of teaching preschool. âHe wants to be extra sweet so a girl loves him.â
âSo he pours sugar on himself?â Hendrixâs nose wrinkles in adorable confusion.
âYup.â Easier to confirm your sonâs own ideas than to come up with an alternative. Leaning back against the headrest, you force out a giggle. âPretty silly, huh?â
The subject is swiftly dropped as Eddie pulls the car in front of his uncleâs trailer, Wayne already standing at the door and announcing that the pizza was on the table and ready to be eaten. âDelivered hot to the door, just like they promised,â he said, repeating the Surfer Boy slogan.Â
It isnât until dinner has been eaten, the conversation naturally dwindling, that trouble begins to arise.Â
âHar, I wanna look over your homework when we get back,â you say, crumpling up your sauce-stained napkin and placing it on your empty plate. Your eyes narrow when you clock the uneasy glance that your oldest son shares with his father. âYou did finish your homework, right?â
Harris tries and fails to hide behind his messy mop of curls. âNot exactly,â he mutters. His uneaten crust is suddenly of incredible interest. âI was gonna do it today, but, umâŚâ
âBut what?â Your impatience is directed both at him and Eddie, the other alleged adult in the house, who was home with Harris while you took Hendrix to a playdate.Â
âWell, okay, the plan was for him to do his homework,â Eddie begins, choosing his words carefully. Too carefully, like heâs trying to hide something. âBut then Jeff called and told me about this tournament at the arcade; like, all of the old-school stuff we played as kids. I told Harris he could go if he promised to finish his work after, but then time got away from meââ
You grit your teeth, all-too aware of your audience present. The last thing you need is for your temper to unravel in front of Wayne and the boys. âSo Harrisâs homework isnât done becauseâŚâ You take a deep breath before continuing. ââŚbecause you wanted to go to the arcade?â
Wayne mumbles a barely audible âhoo, boyâ as he clears the snack table.Â
âIâm sorry, all right?â Eddie shakes his head. âI lost track of time, but heâs gonna get it done. Itâs just, what, some math and science stuff?â
âAnd social studies,â Harris admits.Â
Eddieâs face blanches. âOkay, soâŚjust three things.â
Except itâs not that simple. Harris needs to take breaks to keep himself motivated and prevent frustration. He needs to reread and revise because he has trouble attending to all of the details at once. And now that heâs older, his know-it-all approach only makes homework time more challengingâfor him and for you and Eddie.Â
âLooks like heâll be up until God-knows what time, then,â you shoot back. âAnd you can be the one up with him.â
âI said Iâm sâwhat the hell?â Eddie leaps up, nearly falling over his feet in the process. A mountain of grainy white substance falls from his lap, into the futonâs crevices and onto the floor.Â
Hendrix stands beside him, an upside-downâand now emptyâbag of granulated sugar in his pudgy hands. His big eyes dart between you and Eddie, anticipating your reactions.Â
âHendrix,â Eddie says through a deep breath, channeling every ounce of remaining patience. Harris cackling doesnât help, either. âWhy did you do that?â
Your youngest son shakes the bag a few extra times for good measure. âPutting sugar on you so Mommy likes you. Like in the song.â
Shocked into stillness, Wayne speaks up. âWhat song made you dump all of my sugar on your dad?â
Hendrix beams as he belts out, âPOUR SOME SUGAR ON MEEEEEE! STICKY SWEET!â He turns to you triumphantly. âDo you like Daddy now?â
You tuck your lips into your mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Logically, you know that you canât reinforce this behavior, even if it was done with good intentions.Â
But itâs also really funny.Â
âI like Daddy even when heâs not covered in sugar,â you say. âI love him a lot, and us having a little argument doesnât change that.â
âBut the songâŚâ Hendrix furrows his brows.Â
You breathe out a sigh. âSometimes, people say things in songs that we donât do in real life. Like when people beat each other up on TV or in movies. Itâs fun to watch, but we arenât actually going to do it.â
The boy pouts. âSo do I gotta say sorry?â
âYes,â you tell him, âto Daddy for pouring the sugar on him, and to Grampa Wayne for wasting his sugar.â
âSorry, Daddy. Sorry, Grampa Wayne,â he says softly. âI didnât know the song wasnât for real.â
Wayne grins. âSâokay, kiddo. Iâll just drink my coffee black for a while.â
Eddieâs positioned over the kitchen sink as he brushes the rest of the granules off of his shirt. âI think we need a hard-and-fast rule that we donât copy any of the things we hear in songs.â
âAgreed.â You start towards the tiny closet where Wayne keeps the vacuum, adjusting the hose so it can suck up the sugar embedded into the futonâs mattress. When thatâs done, you grab the broom. âNow, Hen, youâre gonna hold the dustpan while I sweep the floor.â
âButââ he starts to argue, but a raise of your eyebrows silences him. âOkayâŚâ
Eddie takes the broom from you, a tight smile on his face. âGuess I kinda deserved that, huh?â He murmured.Â
âDidnât wanna say it out loud, butâŚyeah.â
âI really am sorry.â He sweeps the sugar into Hendrixâs waiting pan. âIt was a real dumb move on my part.â
You kiss his cheek. âI know youâre sorry. And I forgive you, you stupid, stupid man.â
âGood.â He grins wickedly. âIâd hate to have to pour more sugar on myself to win back your affections.â
You roll your eyes. âJust keep sweeping, and then we can talk about my affections.â
âYes, dear.â
--
#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things#tui
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the boy is mine (eddiessluttywaist's edition)
AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.
summary: romantic night at the trailer, based off of this prompt!
pairing: bf!eddie x gf!reader
word count: 1, 944 words
content/warnings: MDNI, fluff, kissing, lots of touchy feels, a lil smutty?
a/n: creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! theyâre not mine, i just made the collage! also would like to credit @carolmunson for this prompt and @mrsjellymunson for tagging me! I havenât written for eddie in so long, and this was a great way to get back into it <3 thank you! hope you enjoy my contribution <3
You basked in the scent of Eddieâs bedding, how he was ingrained into each and every fiber. Every motion, every shift of the sheets, you could smell him. He had foolishly left you to your own devices in his bedroom (which was surprising since the last time he did that, you almost dared touch his Sweetheart) so you indulged.
You curled up in the sprawling mess of blankets and sheets then grabbed the small throw pillow you had embroidered for him and buried your face in it. It was a delicate, pretty, little thing that stood out in his room even with its DnD theme, but he loved it. He loved that you made it, that you put so much effort into it just for him, so he slept with it every night. Unfamiliar with the concept of purely decorative pillows, he didnât realize most people tucked such things off to the side before getting into bed each night. So, it smelled like cigarettes, convenience store aftershave, and his shampoo. The scent filled you with dizzying affection, only pulling it away from your face to then hug it to your chest as he walked back into his room.
âI ran out of, like, nice cups. This okay?â he asked as he blew into one of the mugs and then used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it down. He was planning on cleaning those cartoon-themed cups properly for some absurdly fancy hot chocolate you had brought back from your family vacation. He was even planning on making another case for not wasting it on him, but, of course, his attention strayed easily when you were in his bed.
When his gaze finally fell on you, a lazy smile quirked up one side of his mouth. The handles of the mugs hung off the curl of his fingers which rested against his hips now as he took in the sight of you. He tilted his head to put it at the same angle as yours, his favorite pillow in your arms. You were an unbelievably endearing sight. The love that filled him was fluttery and overwhelming.
âAnd who said you could hold my favorite pillow?â He teased, sauntering over to the bed.
âI made it,â you scoffed with a smile.
He hums lazily in response, that crooked grin still hanging around as he shoved at the clutter on his bedside table. He picked up a small notebook, brow furrowed as he observed it only to haphazardly toss it towards his dresser to make more room. It was that or your tub of Betty Crocker, and he knew better.
You stared at his forearms, drinking in the movement of the musculature underneath. The warmth of his bedside lamp made it even better to watch the lines and curves of his tattoos beneath its comforting, golden light. How could something so simple be so beautiful? Your focus then trailed to the perfect structure of his hands as the mugs slid down his fingers. The ceramic cups clinked against the surface of the old table.
âI think as the creator, I have some right to hold it too,â you continued to make your case while he crawled into bed with you, giving you that subtle mischievous look he always got when he was toying with you.
His strong arms wrapped around you to secure you closer to him.
âI worked very hard on it, yâknow.â
Eddie let out an âIs that right?â kind of sound, the texture of his jeans scratching against the bedding. He pulled you into him with such a desperate need to squish you as close as possible as if he thought you might be leaving soon. Those brown curls tickled your jaw while he nuzzled the side of your neck, audibly breathing you in.
âAnd it wasnât the easiest thing in the world to embroider all that Dungeons andââ
He finally pulled back to cut you off, smushing his face against yours in a way that made you giggle. Eddieâs kisses were always lazy and sloppy this late at night, but you loved them that way. His lips were warm albeit a bit rough from all the anxious biting that he abused them with. A pleased hum left him and vibrated deep in his throat, his large hands encasing the sides of your face and his fingers tangling in your hair. His rings would probably tug a strand or two when he pulled them away, but you couldnât be bothered to care.
The way your body relaxed reassured him, and he slid his arms down to pull you in again so your stomach could be flat against his own. Then, he let out a small chuckle when he had to separate from you to pluck the throw pillow out from between you. Eddie placed it elsewhere with emphasized tenderness while you stared at those ruddy lips that you missed already.
âPillow was in the way,â he murmured in a low tone, kissing you back as you pulled him in for a few more pecks.
âAnd here I was thinking you were starting to love it more than me.â
âAw, now donât be like that. You know thatâs not true,â Eddie drawled, grinning over that unconvincing little pout you gave him.
He sat back on his legs to move the bedding out of his way, then pulled you forward by your thighs which he readily settled in between. There was nothing he wanted more than to be thoroughly pressed against you. It wasnât even about sex, at least not always. He just loved the feeling of you being so close to him. The softness of your stomach against his taut abdomen. The plushness of your chest pressed against the flat planes of his own. Youâd be lying if you said you didnât love the way your bodies fit together too, but heâd melt into you if he could.
Eddie was the type to lean into you while you were walking together, ending up so close that his wallet chain would keep bumping against you. He always sought out your hand to hold or your shoulders for him to drape his arm across (which of course always ended up with him folding you into him so your face would press against a Hellfire symbol or band name, and he could settle his chin on the top of your head).Â
âI donât think I believe you.â
You crossed your arms, failing to keep up with your façade, especially with that smile and those dimples.
âWell then, my dramatic lil lady,â He spoke with that same theatrical cadence that he used during campaigns, his brow furrowed with determination. You groaned over the incoming mawkishness, rolling your gaze up to the ceiling and smiling to the point that the apples of your cheeks ached.
âI suppose I must convince you.â
His hand settled on the side of your neck, thumb brushing against the center of your throat as he dipped down for another kiss.
âYouâre so corny,â you laughed against his lips.Â
âAnd you⌠taste like vanilla,â he sighed, laughing with you after.
âMm, well, that is the work of Ms. Betty Crocker,â you smiled up at him, gently tapping his nose. âSpeaking ofâŚâ
Eddie groaned, mentally cursing himself for even bringing it up as you squirmed out from underneath him to grab the container from behind the abandoned mugs. He watched you intently while you sucked a scoop of frosting off your finger. When you met his gaze, he gave you a cheeky grin that he failed to conceal by biting his lip and then wiggled his eyebrows at you.
âYouâre a child,â you snorted, reaching out to tap some frosting onto the tip of his nose.
âAnd youâre devastating,â he countered in a voice so sickeningly saccharine with love that you wiped the frosting right back off. He caught your hand and sucked the sugar from the pad of your thumb before you could fully pull back.
âWho knew the local bad boy could be such a softie,â you teased softly, scooping some more frosting to feed it to him. Eddie playfully bit down just enough to make you laugh.
âI believe you mean âthe local freak.ââ
âMm, tomato, tomahto,â you shrugged, lapping up some more frosting off your finger. His rich umber eyes seemed to glitter in the dull lighting, his pupils dilating. You looked up at him through your lashes when you felt his stare.
âWeâre gonna have a problem if you keep doing that,â Eddieâs voice was rough even as he smiled over you.
âWhat?â you laughed, full of faux innocence. He just smirked. âNo, what?â
âYou know what.â
âI have no clue what youâre talking about,â you shrug, going to scoop some more frosting out when he snags the tub from you.
âWhâ hey!â
You already missed his warmth when he sank back onto folded legs, dipping his forefinger into the tub.
âYouâre gonna get your rings all sticky,â
You blushed when that made him cackle, but you at least got the comfort of his body again as he hunched over you. His smile was tangible against the side of your neck, his hair tickling you again.
âNot the only thing thatââ
âEddie, shu-u-ush,â you laughed, and he flattened himself on top of you again, leaving tacky, sugary kisses on your neck while you pried the vanilla frosting from his hand. He gave up on keeping it from you, happy to have a free hand again to seek out your waist with.
Holding the container with one hand, you arched your other arm over him to scoop just one moreâyou swore just one more! âfingertip of frosting, but he was pulling back before you could even dip into it.
âGimme thatââ
âSo rude taking things from me today,â you tutted, watching with a pout as he fed himself some of your treat.
âHave to have you all to myself,â he mimicked some toxic-alpha-dude-type bravado, but he couldnât even get through it without chuckling at the end.
Eddie prodded at the dwindling supply of Betty Crockerâs then tossed the container back onto his bedside table. But you reached out to catch his wrist and brought his index finger to your mouth before he could bring it to his own.
He groaned, leaning onto one elbow while he gawked at you. His full lips parted at the sight of you, his thumb brushing against your cheek as you sucked on his finger. Damn.
âYou never play fair.â
âAnd you like that,â you stated proudly once he slid his finger back out of your mouth.
âCourse I do,â he grunted, sliding the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. âMay have taken a few attempts to graduate, but Iâm not that dumb.â
Your following giggle was breathy and fleeting as you sunk into the tension filling the room. You took in the growing heat in his gaze that tracked his thumb while it hooked your bottom lip. He mimicked opening his own mouth as you did so without even being asked, making him smile and drag his tongue over his lip. He slid his pointer finger down your tongue again, letting it trail down until he was holding your chin between his curled finger and thumb. Keeping your chin down and lips parted, he leaned in. The kiss was firmerâmore determinedâand desperate. He was putting every ounce of his desire into you, and this time you were the one melting. You felt like you were sinking deeper into that old mattress, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him with you.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie stranger things#stranger things#eddiemunson#eddie munson imagine#stranger things x reader#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson ficlet#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#bf!eddie munson#the boy is mine eddie munson#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson smut
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Howdy Partner - Part 1
I...yep. This fic finally broke out of the cage in my brain and found its way into the world. Careful. It bites.
If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know!
Cross-posted to AO3 here.
~*~
Pre-War!Cooper Howard (Fallout Show) x fem!Reader
[A/N: This is just fluff with some suggestive language, because as sinfully hot as he is as a Ghoul, he looks like an absolute cinnamon roll as an actor.]
Warnings: Fluff, mild angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, they both think their feelings are unrequited, Cooper is already divorced, flirty friends to lovers, they both wanna kiss so bad, drinking but not heavy, mentions of alcohol, they're not tipsy but they have had a couple of glasses of champagne.
~*~
"Cut! That's a wrap for this week," the director called, and everyone on set began to disperse. Beginning to corral the various props so they could be stored until Monday, I breathed a sigh of relief that the week was over. Halfway through winding up one of the ropes, someone cleared their throat behind me.
"Pardon me, ma'am. Any chance an ole cowboy could int'rest you in a celebratory drink?" The faux western accent drew a smile across my lips before I could school my expression. When I turned, Cooper Howard stood in full costume with his cowboy hat held respectfully over his chest. Always such a gentleman.
"Surely there's some gorgeous starlet who you'd rather be drinking with, Mr. Howard," I teased as I laid the looped rope onto its hook. Clasping my hands behind my back, I blinked innocently up at the man who'd been my friend for years and had quickly carved a spot for himself in my heart.
"Now, why would I want to take another woman out on the town when the most gorgeous one in all of Hollywood is standin' right in front of me?" He murmured, and despite the pang it sent through my heart, I gave a sly smile as I grasped his arm.
"One of these days, Coop, you'll regret being so flirty with me," I said as he plunked his hat on top of my head instead of his own. I couldn't imagine it looked as good on me as it did on him.
"Oh? And why's that?"
"Because, one of these days, the woman destined to be your next wife might overhear you, think you're taken, and give up before she's even met you." We walked toward his trailer, dodging busy workers as we talked. "Or worse...I might actually think you mean those sweet little things you say to me."
Keeping my head forward as we walked, I caught him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, his expression inscrutable.
"Wouldn't that just be a shame," he muttered, but his tone contradicted his statement entirely. A large grin stretched Cooper's lips as we stepped inside his trailer. I knew the drill by now. We left the door open, and I took a seat as he ducked behind a privacy screen at the other end. His accent fell away as he changed out of his costume. "That hat's yours now, by the way."
For a moment, all I could hear was the gentle sound of cloth as I tried to force my tongue to work.
"What?"
"They had about ten of those hats for this movie, and I snagged a couple. One for me, and one for you. That one's yours," he called, and butterflies swarmed in my stomach. "Assuming you want an old actor's hand-me-down, of course. You could always just leave it in my trailer today when we go for drinks and the costume people will find it. I just remember you saying you liked the way the one from this particular movie looked, so I figured..."
He trailed off as he walked out from behind the privacy screen in a white button-down shirt and some dark brown slacks. My breath hitched in my throat, but I shook my head quietly.
"No, I do love it. I'm not leaving it here," I said as I got to my feet. "Thank you, Cooper."
Pink dusted his cheeks, and I couldn't help but wonder how I got this lucky. He didn't feel the same as I did, but it was enough that he considered me one of his close friends. Or, at least, that's what I told myself on those lonely evenings when I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.
I'd been lost in thought for a moment, snapping back to reality when he waved a hand in front of my eyes.
"You in there?" He asked, a mix of amusement and concern coloring his features as I blinked up at him. "You looked like you were a thousand miles away."
"Only about fifteen," I muttered, and before he could ask what I meant, I plastered what I hoped was an enthusiastic smile on my lips. "Well, what are we waiting for? You wanted a celebratory drink, so let's go get it, shall we?"
Cooper had known me for too long to be fooled by that. Like always, I could see his jaw clench for a second as he tucked the information away in the back of his mind for later, then smiled back at me.
"Lead on, ma'am." His faux western accent was back, and he gave me a little wink as I slipped past him out of his trailer.
--
I'd expected to find myself in a bar with him, but Coop had different plans. He'd driven me to his place - a much smaller house than the one he'd previously shared with his daughter and his ex-wife. He'd downsized after the divorce, choosing a more rustic place that was closer to nature than his cushy almost-mansion had been. Modern conveniences were still present, but he was no longer surrounded by the stifling side of city life.
Kicking our shoes off and wandering out onto the upstairs balcony, we raised our champagne flutes and toasted the success of the new movie. I tried not to watch the bob of his Adam's apple too closely as he swallowed.
Looking out at the dark expanse of the night and the bright lights of the city several hours later, we'd barely finished more than a couple of glasses each. It was so incredibly easy with him. We'd talked the whole evening away, focusing on everything and nothing, paying no mind to the fact that the world kept spinning without us.
Eventually, a cold breeze whirled through the air, and we retreated inside. Cooper grabbed an oversized blanket and we cuddled up together in his living room in front of the fireplace. Setting the hat he'd given me on the coffee table, he wrapped his arms around me and let me rest my head on his chest.
This wasn't the first time we'd curled up like this, but it felt more weighted this time. His chin touched the top of my head just as I noted how fast his heart was beating.
Adrenaline. That's all it was. We'd both been startled by how quickly the temperature had dropped. There was no way it could be anything else.
"It looks better on you," he murmured against the top of my head, and my own heart thudded faster in my chest. "The hat, I mean."
A huff of laughter escaped me.
"Somehow, I think your fans might disagree, Mr. Howard. Hell, even I disagree," I admitted as I toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt.
"That's too bad. All of you are wrong. You look so damn good in it," Cooper said as one of his hands skimmed up my back. He sounded more serious than any of his other silly little flirtatious statements ever had - a feat I hadn't thought possible. I could never tell if he was joking when we were alone like this.
"Careful, now. I might end up thinking you're seriousâ"
"I am," he blurted as his grip around me tightened by a fraction. "I'm serious."
When I lifted my head to look up at him, Cooper was already looking at me; his gaze was soft and vulnerable as he lifted a hand. The backs of his knuckles brushed down the side of my face so gently that the breath was stolen from my lungs.
"Cooper..." I tried to tell him what I was feeling - tried to force all of the words I'd been holding back to the tip of my tongue - but they got stuck somewhere in my throat.
"It's okay," he breathed, his voice was low and rough as he spoke. "You don't have to say anything. I know this probably isn't... I'm divorced, older, and I have a kid. I'm not under any delusions about how undesirable my situation is, but I just wanted to say it once...before I lost my nerve."
I must've fallen asleep. I was dreaming, I had to be.
"I don't expect you to feel the same. You're so beautiful, so kind...you must have men beating down your door for a chance to be with you, and you're stuck here drinking with a washed up old man," he murmured, guilt winding around every word. "When I drive you home in the morning...if it would make you more comfortable, we can forget I ever said anything...blame it on the champagne."
Alarm rocketed through me. I didn't want that. I didn't want to forget. I didn't want to blame it on the alcohol.
Dream or not, I just wanted Cooper.
Leaning upward, I took a chance and pressed my lips against his. They'd always looked soft. I never thought I'd get the chance to find out what they felt like on anything but the back of my hand.
When he kissed me back, I'd never been so glad to be wrong.
Giving in to my desires, I braced one hand on his chest and buried the other in his soft, dark hair. He grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me closer as we drowned in each other.
When we finally broke apart, Cooper nuzzled my nose drawing a breathless, joyful giggle from some dazed part of my mind.
"Stay with me tonight," he whispered, and I nodded my head.
"I did assume I would be when you stated that you'd be driving me home in the morning," I teased, and he gave me a gorgeous smile, his eyes twinkling in the low light.
"Beautiful smart-ass. I meant...stay in my room with me. Not the guest room," he murmured even as his gaze dropped to my lips again. "I promise I'll be good - keep my hands to myself."
"You don't have to." The words whispered against his lips prompted a hungry hum from his throat, but he shook his head.
"I want to wine and dine you first. You deserve that...deserve to be treated like a princess," he said, "that way, when the time comes, and I finally have you all to myself, you'll know how much you mean to me."
A desperate whimper escaped me, and he smirked like the cat that got the canary.
"Now, can you be a good, patient girl for me tonight, sweetheart?"
I agreed, muttering under my breath that he was a damn tease, but my protests were silenced by the look Cooper gave me as he led me to his bedroom. Longing looked good on him.
~*~
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outside looking in
for @steddie-week day one âsecret relationshipâ
rated: t | cw: none | wc: 4,8k | tags: maxâs pov, post vol. 4, 3+1 things, secret relationship, friendship, max & steve, max & eddie
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1.
Max is sitting on the front steps of her house, adjusting the wheels of her skateboard when the screen door of the Munsonâs trailer swings open.
The noise it makes as it slams against the side of the trailer makes her jump. Itâs only been a few weeks since Spring Break and sheâs still on high alert after everything that happened.
Looking up from her skateboard, she expects to see Eddie or his uncle. Sheâs used to it- catching them on their way in or out of the trailer or sitting on the old ratty couch that they keep on the front porch. Sheâs used to waving at them and them waving back. Sometimes, if itâs Eddie, sheâll stick her middle finger out just to make him crow with laughter so loud she can hear it from across the gravel path.Â
What Max doesnât expect is to see someone else stumbling out of the Munsonâs trailer.Â
She certainly doesnât expect to see Steve.Â
It canât be Steve, Max thinks. She remembers one of the doctors at the hospital telling her that her eyesight suffered some damage from being trapped in Vecnaâs mind prison for too long and now she thinks that he mustâve been right. Maybe she does need glasses.Â
But even if she squints her eyes, she still sees Steve. More importantly, she sees what Steve is wearing, and even from a distance despite whatever eyesight problems she might have, she can see that the clothes Steve is wearing arenât his. Well, the jeans probably are, but the shirt is black and the logo plastered on the front is a big skull surrounded by flames, and while she canât make out the words that are written in big bold letters, sheâs willing to bet itâs the name of one of Eddieâs metal bands. Which would make that Eddieâs shirt. Â
And it looks wrinkled, slept in.
Huh.
Jogging down the front steps, Steve makes his way to his BMW, parked out front and sticking out like a shiny sore thumb. Max is surprised she didnât notice it sooner.Â
She watches as he runs a hand through his hair, his messy hair- another sign pointing to the fact that Steve spent the night in Eddieâs trailer.
And the thing is Max didnât even know they were friends.Â
Sheâs seen them talk- or more like bicker when the party hangs out, but she had no idea that they sometimes hang out just the two or that they spend the night at each otherâs places, or that they share clothes.Â
She thinks sheâs not supposed to know, based on the way Steve stops in his tracks with his hand frozen mid-air as he reaches for the car door handle when he spots Max across the road.Â
His eyes go wide and his jaw drops a little, the dopey smile that was plastered on his face disappearing as he stands there, staring at her for several seconds.Â
Max raises her hand in an awkward wave, which seems to snap him out of his reverie. He offers a small finger wiggle in return.Â
Max doesnât know how clearly he can see her. Just like her, Steve was advised by one of the doctors to wear glasses- his own eyesight showing signs of damage after the multiple concussions that heâs suffered over the years. And just like her, Steve didnât listen.
Still, she raises an eyebrow at him while staring pointedly at the shirt heâs wearing.
And despite his own shitty eyesight, Steve must be able to see her face clearly enough because he ducks his head, realizes what Max is staring at, and his eyes widen even more. Then, without looking at her again, he hurriedly slides into the driverâs seat and starts the car, backing it up and driving it away.
Once the car disappears, Max jumps to her feet, and tucking her skateboard under her arm, she walks over to Eddieâs trailer.Â
Her knuckles rap on the door and she hears movement behind it- the couch squeaking, a loud thud, and a heartfelt âson of a bitch!â coming from Eddie as he, most likely, trips over something.
Eddie starts talking before he opens the door enough to see Max, rubbing at his eyes. âDid you forget something, Stevie-â He pauses when he finally sees Max, whose eyebrows are knit together in a frown. Stevie? Sheâs only ever heard Eddie call Steve by his last name or by some mocking title before. âOh. Hey Red, I thought- I thought you were someone else,â he tacks on with an awkward laugh, a hand hanging from his neck.Â
Max studies him for a moment. Heâs in boxers and a shirt that could very well be the same one that Steve was wearing, equally slept in. They both mustâve woken up recently- Eddieâs hair is even more of a mess than Steveâs was.Â
âWho? Steve?â She asks, and Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. âNah, he left already.âÂ
Eddie bites his lip. âYou- you saw him?âÂ
âI was fixing my skateboard outside when he came out.â She narrows her eyes at him. âWearing your shirt.â
âUm,â Eddie says dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. âHe, uh, he spilled something on his shirt last night. If you ask me, it was an act of divine intervention, no one should own that many polo shirts.â He chuckles, but it sounds a little strained.Â
âSo he was here last night?â Max asks and Eddie grimaces, mentally face-palming himself.
âUm, yeah.âÂ
âSince when do you guys hang out?â She asks, raising an eyebrow.
Eddie shrugs. âSince we found ourselves as the only two adults in a group of children, I guess.âÂ
Max rolls her eyes. âWeâre hardly children.â
âSorry, teenagers,â he says with a smirk. âBut you know, same shit. Sometimes itâs nice to hang out with someone your age who also understands, you know- everything that happened.â
âI guess,â Max concedes. Maybe in a universe without the Upside Down, Eddie and Steve never wouldâve become friends, but it makes sense that they did. After everything they went through.Â
Eddie reaches over and flicks Maxâs forehead, sniggering when Max bats his hand away with a huff. âSo, milady, is there a reason you visited me on this fine morning?âÂ
There isnât. Truth is, she was curious and wanted to ask about Steve and she did that already, so she might as well just leave. But she also has nothing to do all day and she was hoping to practice with her skateboard anyway-
âCan you give me a ride to the skate park?â She asks and when Eddie glances down at himself and raises an eyebrow, Max scrunches up her nose and adds, âAfter you take a shower or something?â
Eddie snorts. âYeah, sure. Come in, you can wait here while I get ready.â He steps to the side and sweeps his arm with a flourish.
âNerd,â Max mutters but steps in any way, leaving her skateboard on the porch.Â
âYou can watch something or if you want to grab some breakfast, we have Cocoa Puffs and Honeycomb.â He scrunches up his nose. âBut the milk mightâve gone bad, so. Careful with that.âÂ
Max snorts. âThanks, but I think Iâll pass,â She says. She had breakfast at home anyway.Â
âSuit yourself,â Eddie says, throwing some finger guns her way. âBe right back.â And then he disappears down the hallway.
Max has been inside the trailer a few times, but sheâs never been left alone so naturally she decides to snoop around a little while she waits. Thereâs not a lot that she finds interesting- worn furniture, old newspapers, Eddieâs uncleâs mug collection and-
Steveâs polo shirt that somehow ended up on top of the TV like it was tossed haphazardly by someone.Â
She picks it up and inspects it.
Thereâs not a single stain on it. Â
And well, Eddieâs excuse sounded flimsy at best, but this is confirmation that it was actually a lie. It makes Max wonder why Eddie would lie about it. Friends can share clothes and if Steve spent the night it would make sense that he would borrow one of Eddieâs shirts-
But why would his shirt end up on top of the TV if that was the case?Â
Before Max can answer her own question, she hears footsteps approaching. Putting the shirt back where it was for Eddie to find later, she makes herself seem busy by staring at the mugs lining up the walls just as Eddie appears.Â
âReady to go?â He asks, oblivious to Max finding the shirt and discovering he was lying about the stain. When she nods, Eddie gestures at the door with another flourish and a, âLadies first.âÂ
Sending one last glance at Steveâs shirt, Max steps outside, still wondering what it could mean.Â
2.Â
Max doesnât expect it to happen again, but just one week later she sees Steve leaving Eddieâs trailer again.
This time she doesnât need to squint to notice thereâs something off with Steveâs clothes. Sheâs on her way to Eddieâs trailer when Steve walks out and jogs down the steps, not paying attention to where heâs going, almost knocking Max over.Â
âDude!â She says, stopping him in his tracks.Â
âChrist! Where did you come from?â He hisses, stumbling a few steps back, clutching at his chest.Â
It makes Maxâs eyes dart down to it and she raises an eyebrow. âWhy is your shirt inside out?âÂ
Steveâs eyes nearly bulge out his face as he looks down and notices that his baby blue polo shirt is, in fact, inside out.Â
âUh.âÂ
Max can see him trying to come up with an explanation, she can almost hear the gears turning in his head, but he seems to be coming up blank. She narrows her eyes further.Â
âThere was- uh, there was a spider! It ended up caught under my shirt and I had to take it off to- to get it off me and I mustâve put it on the wrong way,â he stammers out with a strained laugh.
âA spider?â Max asks slowly, her eyebrow arched.Â
âUh-huh.âÂ
Max doesnât buy it. Just like she didnât buy Eddieâs excuse about Steveâs shirt having a stain. But since she doesnât know the real reason why Steve was wearing Eddieâs shirt or why his own is inside out after leaving Eddieâs trailer, she doesnât confront him about it, just filing the information for later.Â
âOkay.âÂ
Steve awkwardly shuffles from one foot to the other for a second, eyeing his car like he wants to duck inside it and drive away from the trailer park and Max as fast as he can.
At that moment, the trailer door opens and they both whirl around to see Eddie lighting the cigarette dangling from his lips as he walks out. He freezes when he sees them, his eyes darting between the two.
âOh, youâre still here,â he mumbles through the cigarette. âAnd so is Max, hey Red.âÂ
Max gives him a wave.
âWhat are you two talking about?â He asks, taking a drag from the cigarette.
âI was telling Steve that his shirt is inside out,â Max says, her lips twitching into a smirk.Â
Eddieâs eyes widen the same way Steveâs did as he clocks in the inside-out shirt. âRight, thatâs- thatâs because, um.â
Max waits for him to come up with an excuse of his own, wondering if heâll come up with the same one that Steve did. But before he can say anything else, Steve intervenes. âThere was a spider, right, Eds?âÂ
Eds? Steve calls him Eds now?
Eddie claps his hands together and points a finger at Steve. âA spider! Right! Nasty little crawler!âÂ
Max rolls her eyes, wondering if they think sheâs stupid. Idiots.
âWhatever.â She turns to Eddie. âMy mom made lasagna and she told me to invite you over for lunch,â she says. That was the reason she came over in the first place.
Eddie grins around his cigarette. âHell yeah, your momâs lasagna is the shit.âÂ
Max turns to Steve. âYou can come too if you want. She made plenty.âÂ
The corners of his mouth twitch up for a second before he frowns. âCrap, Iâd love to but I have a shift in,â he pauses and glances down at his watch, âtwenty minutes. Sorry.â
âAnother time.â
âDefinitely,â Steve says, ruffling Maxâs hair and ducking out of the way before Max can punch his arm. âBut for now, I gotta go!â He starts jogging towards his car.
âDonât forget to fix your shirt!â Max calls and Steve makes a face as he opens the door.Â
âAnd beware of spiders!â Eddie yells right before he climbs inside. Max still catches a glimpse of the fond smile teasing at Steveâs lips.Â
When the car disappears, she turns to Eddie again. âYou coming or what?â
âWell, when you ask so nicely,â Eddie says with a grin, walking down the steps.Â
As soon as heâs within reach, Max snatches the cigarette from his lips and drops it on the ground, snuffing it out with her foot.Â
âHey!âÂ
âSmoking kills, you know?â She says, crossing her arms over her chest.Â
âMy dear Red,â Eddie says, throwing an arm over her shoulders as he steers them towards her house. âI defied death once, and I shall do it again!â He says in a silly voice.Â
Max bites her lip around a smile. âYeah, yeah, you can defy it where I donât have to smell it. Come on, Momâs waiting.âÂ
He withdraws his arm and jogs a few steps forward, crouching down in front of Max. âHop on, milady.âÂ
Max rolls her eyes, but she grabs Eddieâs shoulders for balance and jumps on his back. Eddie laughs, hoists Max up by her legs, and yells, âOnwards!â before he starts running towards her house.Â
Max canât help but laugh along with him.Â
3.Â
The next time Max sees Steve outside Eddieâs trailer heâs not leaving but arriving instead.Â
Sheâs sitting down on the porch with her Walkman, waiting for her mother to pick her up. She doesnât just listen to Kate Bush these days, but she still keeps one of her tapes with her at all times. Right now, sheâs listening to a mixtape Lucas made for her.Â
It comes to an end just as Steveâs car rolls into the trailer park, stopping in front of Eddieâs trailer.Â
As she rewinds the tape, she expects Steve to step out of the car and head inside, but he doesnât. Eddie doesnât come out of the trailer either. Steve just sits in his car with his hands on the steering wheel for seemingly no reason.
After ten minutes, he still hasnât come out and since Max has nothing better to do until her mother gets here, she decides to walk over there to find out whatâs going on with Steve.Â
She opens the passenger door and slides into the seat without announcing herself, making Steve jump and hit his head with the roof of the car.
âJesus Christ! Ouch! Fuck!â He glances at Max with wide crazy eyes. âGoddammit, Max, are you trying to give me a heart attack?âÂ
Max ignores the question in favor of asking one herself. âYouâve been sitting here for ten minutes, dude, what gives?âÂ
The hand that Steve is rubbing his head with stops abruptly. âUm.âÂ
âWell?â Max gives him an exasperated look. Her mom is going to be home any second and she would like to get an answer before she does.
Steve bites his lip, watching Max closely. âCan- Can I ask you something?âÂ
He seems nervous and thatâs the only reason why Max lets him ignore her question. âOkay?âÂ
âYou and Lucas-â he starts and Max raises an eyebrow. She wasnât expecting Steve to ask about them. âYouâre together again, right?âÂ
âUh-huh.âÂ
âDid he- when he asked you to-â He waves his hand in a vague gesture. âYou know- be his girlfriend, how did he- what did he do?âÂ
She bites down on the why? thatâs at the tip of her tongue. âHe gave me this. A mixtape,â she says, holding her Walkman for Steve to see. âAnd he- he just asked me. He said that after Vecna he didnât want to waste any more time. He wanted to be with me.âÂ
Steve smiles softly. âSmart kid.âÂ
âIt wasnât terribly romantic but-â Max trails off with a shrug. She hadnât cared about that. Vecna made her realize she wanted to be with Lucas too, and thatâs all that mattered.Â
âHe probably knew you wouldnât want a big romantic gesture,â Steve says and Max nods.
She narrows her eyes at him- at the way Steve bites his lip while glancing at Eddieâs trailer, thinking.
Thatâs when it clicks. The shared clothes, the inside-out shirt, Steve asking about her and Lucas, how nervous he is to go inside-
âIs that something Eddie would want? A big romantic gesture?â She asks and Steve snaps his head in her direction so fast she thinks she hears his neck crack.Â
âWhat- what do you- how do you-âÂ
Max scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. âDude, I saw you leaving Eddieâs trailer wearing his clothes and then with your shirt on inside out. And donât give me that bullshit about the spider! You were obviously- you know.â She gestures vaguely but Steve gets it. His cheeks go pink which is enough confirmation. âAnd now youâre asking me about Lucas and how he asked me to be his girlfriend like- like youâre thinking about doing that so- is that it? Are you gonna ask Eddie?âÂ
Steve sighs heavily, slumping back against his seat. âYeah, thatâs- yeah. I want to ask him,â he admits, gripping the steering wheel. He glances at Max out of the corner of his eye. âIs that- is that okay?âÂ
Max snorts. âYou know you donât need my permission, right? But if youâre asking if I think you and Eddie being together is okay? Yeah, of course it is.âÂ
Steve relaxes slightly. âThanks. I- we- this thing between us is new. We havenât told anyone. Not that we had to tell you,â he chuckles. âOf course, you figured it out, but we havenât, you know, made it official, but I want to. I just donât know how.âÂ
âI thought you were supposed to be some kind of ladiesâ man?âÂ
Steve lets out an undignified squawk. âI- thatâs not- I mean I was, but my game kind of went downhill after high school and Eddie- he makes me nervous.â
âIs that why youâve been freaking out here for ten minutes?â
A high-pitched laughter tumbles out of Steveâs lips. âYeah, thatâs- yeah.âÂ
Max rolls her eyes. âSteve, just tell Eddie how you feel! How you really feel.â
âEasier said than done, Mayfield.âÂ
She turns sideways in her seat to face him. âLook, Eddie likes you, thatâs obvious, and you like him so just tell him that. Tell him that you want to be together. Officially.â
Steve runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.
âAnd stop doing that!â Max chatises, slapping his hand away. âYou donât want to look like a bird built a nest in your head when you ask Eddie to be your boyfriend.â
He drops his hand to his lap. âNo, I donât,â He concedes. Then he takes a deep breath. âYeah, okay, Iâm doing this.â
Max waits for him to move and get out of the car, but he just sits there. âDude, youâre still in the car-â
Steve throws his arms up. âI know! I know, Iâm going!âÂ
And then finally, he gets out of the car. Max follows his lead, leaning her crossed arms on the roof to narrow her eyes at Steve.Â
âNow you gotta walk over there-â
Steve groans. âYeah, I know that. You,â he points at her with one finger while the other one settles on his hip, âyou gotta scram. Iâm not doing this in front of you.â
Max rolls her eyes. âWhatever. My mom will be here soon anyway.â
She starts walking back to her house but before she gets too far, Steve calls her name. She turns around with a raised eyebrow.Â
Steve is smiling softly at her. âThanks.â
Max smiles back. âGood luck!â
Her momâs car appears then and she waves at Steve before running towards it. She gets in, and as her mom drives away, she sees Steve fix his hair one last time in the car window before finally walking towards the trailer.Â
She faces forward in her seat, convinced that the next time she sees Steve leaving Eddieâs trailer, heâll be doing it as Eddieâs boyfriend.Â
+1.Â
The next time he sees Steve, however, itâs not outside Eddieâs trailer, but rather inside it.
Sheâs sitting down at the Munsonâs table, watching Eddie putter around the small kitchen as he cooks them pasta for dinner while she works on her History homework.Â
Eddie has music on- loud, heavy metal music that Max rolled her eyes at when she walked in. But the truth is that sheâs used to it by now and she prefers this to the silence back at her house when her mom is at work.Â
Because of the loud music though they donât hear the car that parks outside or the person that walks up the front steps. Itâs only when the door flings open that both Max and Eddie jump and glance at it, both of them relaxing when Steve walks in carrying a six-pack.
âHoney, Iâm home!â He announces, shrugging off his jacket.Â
Max watches as Eddieâs eyes widen comically before darting between her and Steve, who still hasnât noticed her. Steve mustâve forgotten to tell him that Max knows about them- probably too embarrassed to admit he asked a fifteen-year-old for advice on boys.Â
âUh, Stevie-â Eddie starts, but Steve, whose back is still turned towards them as he hangs his jacket on the coat rack, ignores him and keeps talking.
âIt smells great in here, Eds! Iâm starving. Robin ate the last of my sandwich at work and then she wouldnât let me steal anything from the candy display. I thought we could order pizza, but thank God my boyfriend decided to surprise me with a home-cooked meal. Oh hey, Max.â He wiggles his fingers at Max, finally noticing her, and she waves back.Â
Eddieâs jaw hangs open as he stares at Max. âShit, I guess- I guess the catâs out of the bag,â he chuckles, nervously tugging some of his hair in front of his face.
âDude, the catâs been out of the bag since I saw Steve leave in one of your shirts after spending the night here,â Max says with a snort.Â
Eddie splutters. âWhat?â
She smirks. âYeah. And that time Steve walked out with his shirt inside out? Did you really expect me to believe it was because of a spider?â
Steveâs face twists into a grimace. Eddie shrugs, hanging a hand from his neck. Yeah, they should be embarrassed about that one.Â
âAlso, who do you think was the one who gave Steve a pep talk before he asked you to be his boyfriend?âÂ
At that, Eddieâs head snaps towards Steve, whose cheeks have turned pink. âShe- what?â
âOkay, it wasnât a pep talk, come on! I was just- I was a little nervous!âÂ
âAw baby,â Eddie says gleefully, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter and resting his chin on his hands. âYou were nervous?âÂ
Max sniggers. âHe was. He sat in the car for like ten minutes.â
Steve squeaks. âShut up!â He tells her. Then when Eddie coos, Steve points a menacing finger at him. âYou shut up too!âÂ
Still giggling, Max watches as Eddie walks around the kitchen counter until heâs standing in front of Steve and cups both sides of his face while Steve pouts at him with his own hands resting on his hips.Â
âItâs okay, sweetheart. I think itâs cute that you were nervous,â Eddie tells him before swooping in to give him a quick peck on the lips. âEven if you had no reason to be.â
Steve visibly melts, his hands falling from his hips like a puppet with his strings cut, his pout turning into a dopey smile.
Ew.
âIf you guys start making out, Iâll leave. I swear,â Max announces, and both their heads snap in her direction, looking like they forgot she was there.Â
Their cheeks turn pink, but while Steve does look a little embarrassed, Eddie looks pleased.Â
âApologies, my lady,â he says with a flourish. âHere, sweetheart, let me take this,â he tells Steve, grabbing the six-pack and walking around the counter to put it inside the fridge before going back to making dinner. Max finds the pet names very cheesy and gross too, but she doesnât tease them about that. She has the feeling that this is the first time that they can act like a couple in front of someone from the party and she doesnât want them to think they have to hold back- not unless it comes to kissing.Â
Steve joins her on the table, twisting one of the chairs around and straddling it, resting his chin in his arms. âIf Iâd known youâd be here, I wouldâve brought you something to drink too.âÂ
âThatâs okay.â Max shrugs innocently. âI can have a beer.âÂ
From the kitchen, Eddie cackles, and Steveâs eyes turn into cartoon-like hearts as he glances at him for a second before turning back to Max and speaking in that bitchy tone of his. âYeah, thatâs a no. Nice try. Maybe in a couple of years.âÂ
Max rolls her eyes as hard as she can.Â
âWhat are you working on?â Steve asks, glancing at her notebook.Â
âHistory homework, Iâm almost done.â Then she makes her voice a little louder so Eddie hears it when she says, âI would be done by now if Eddie didnât listen to his music so loud it makes it hard to think!âÂ
âYou know, Red, music is supposed to improve cognitive performance,â Eddie says in a snarky tone.Â
âYours isnât music, itâs just noise.â
Steve sniggers and offers his hand for a fist bump that Max accepts. From the kitchen, Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.Â
âWhatever, your homework is gonna have to wait anyway. Dinnerâs ready.â
Max closes her book and her notebook and moves them both to the coffee table while Steve clears out some old mail and flips his chair forward again. Then he helps Eddie with one of the three pasta bowls and Max grabs a soda from the fridge and two beers for them, carrying it all to the table.Â
Steve wasnât lying when he said it smelled good. Maxâs mouth waters the moment she sits down in front of her bowl, wasting no time before she digs in.Â
They eat in silence for no more than two minutes which is how long it takes for Eddie to start telling them about his latest study session with Nancy through mouthfuls of pasta. Max scrunches her nose every time she catches a glimpse of Eddieâs half-chewed food, but the whole time, Steve watches him with a dopey smile. Halfway through his story, Steve reaches for one of Eddieâs hands, holding it over the table. Eddie stutters in the middle of complaining about Nancy not believing in breaks (âThat woman is a machine! It doesnât matter if sheâs facing off against a dark wizard or an English final!â), his eyes darting to their joined hands and then to Maxâs bored expression before relaxing and flipping his hand over so that their fingers intertwine.
They donât let go for the rest of their dinner- not while the three of them bicker and tease each other or while Steve tells them about his shift at Family Video or while Max tells them about El coming to visit during summer. They donât let go when Eddie lets Max have a sip of his beer and both he and Steve double over with laughter when she scrunches up her face and gags at the taste.Â
They let go only when they move to the couch to watch a movie, but then they cuddle up to each other almost immediately.Â
Max gags again, but itâs just for show. She doesnât mind any of it- the pet names, the cuddling, the hand-holding. Sheâll draw the line at seeing them kiss because gross but sheâs happy to see them relax and act like this in front of her. Someday, they might tell the rest of the party, maybe even the rest of the world.Â
For now, they seem happy to let her be the only one who knows. The only one who gets to see them like this.Â
And Max, well, sheâs happy too.Â
#steddie#steddieweek2024#steddie fic#stranger things#stranger things fic#hello i finally finished this and just in time for day one of steddie week#i love max and i love writing from her pov i hope you enjoy it too#steve harrington#eddie munson#max mayfield#monse writes
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Echoes of Souls | A.T
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader
Summary: In the old, abandoned castle, she found a love letter addressed to her, written by someone who died a century ago.
Word Count: 1.121
A/N: Feedback is always welcome. English isn't my first language so excuse any mistakes but feel free to point them out to help me improve.
Chapter 1: Echoes of a Forgotten Past
The old castle stood quiet and forgotten on the outskirts of Kingâs Landing, its once-glorious exterior now a ghostly relic of the past. Long vines of ivy climbed its weathered walls, making it appear almost as if nature had attempted to reclaim the abandoned structure. Shutters banged against cracked windows, held only by rusty, old hinges, while the wind whistled mournfully through the broken panes. Even the birds seemed to shun the place, their songs the only absence in an otherwise haunted landscape.
It was this eerie, magnetic pull that had drawn you hereâa sense of familiarity combined with an insatiable curiosity for between all the projects the company allowed you to choose, this was the one that stood out for you. As you walked through the creaky front doors into the sprawling foyer, you were struck by the imposing architecture, which still held a sliver of its former grandeur. Your footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor as you moved through the house, your fingers lightly grazing the banister of the grand staircase.
A sense of dĂŠjĂ vu washed over you. You paused, trying to pinpoint the origin of this haunting familiarity. Why did every corridor, every room, seem like it held a secret, a memory just out of reach? It was as if you had been here before in another life, another time. But that was impossibleâor was it?
As night fell, the castleâs eerie charm only deepened. You made your way back to the trailer with the delivery you had ordered. The moonlight casts silver shadows through the window. Exhaustion soon claimed you after dinner, and you drifted into a deep, dream-filled sleep.
In your dream, the world was differentâbrighter, more vibrant. Standing on the verdant grounds of the palace, it was no longer an abandoned relic. It was alive, bustling with people, laughter, and the roar of dragons. The skies above were filled with the majestic creatures, their wings casting shadows on the cobblestone pathways below.
You looked down at yourself, your attire reflecting a time long past. Rich fabrics and intricate embroidery adorned your gown, and your hair seemed to be styled in the fashion of nobility. Heart swelled with emotions you couldnât explain as you walked through the manicured gardens of the castle, the very same one that looked like a dried jungle just moments ago. Everything feels uncannily familiar.
Suddenly, you felt a pang in your heart. A strange vibration in your chest. And then saw him. Your breath caught as you took in the sight of him. His tall, statuesque form was cloaked in regal hues, the fabric of his attire moving subtly with each of his graceful movements. He reached out to touch a blossom, his long fingers brushing the petals with unexpected tenderness, and in that moment, you felt as though she was witnessing a secret part of his soul.
His face, chiseled and strong, held a serene intensity. The angles of his jaw and the line of his nose were softened by the play of light and shadow, creating a portrait that was both striking and ethereal. But it was his eyes that truly made you hold your breath. Piercing violet, it seemed to see right through the world and into the very essence of things. When his gaze shifted and met yours, you felt an electric thrill course through your veins, as if his eyes held the power to unravel your very being.
Slowly, a rare, faint smile touched his lips, transforming his face with a warmth that contrasted beautifully with his otherwise austere demeanor. The sight of that smile, so fleeting yet so profound, made your heart ache with an inexplicable longing.
Something inside you is alarming that the man standing a few meters from you is the very same from the letter whose words havenât left your mind. Aemond Targaryen.
His silver hair glinted in the sunlight, and his piercing violet eye, filled with a depth of emotion you instantly recognized, locked onto you. He approached with a look of tender resolve, his footsteps confident and deliberate.
âVaela,â he called you, a name from your past life that felt both foreign and intimate. Familiar. âI was waiting for you. Walk with me.â
You nodded, heart fluttering with a mixture of excitement and calm, and took his offered arm. Something inside you told you to stop staring but how could you avert your eyes from his figure when it was making your heart beat so fast? You strolled through the garden, the scent of blooming roses enveloping you, the sound of dragon wings beating in sync with your heartbeat.
âI have something important to ask you,â Aemond began, his voice steady yet soft. He led you to a secluded alcove where the gardenâs flowers seemed to bloom more brightly. He turned to face you, taking both your hands in his. âI have loved you from the moment we met. In you, I found my heartâs true desire, a soul that mirrors my own. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?â
Tears welled up in your eyes, the emotions flooding through you from both the past and present. Why was your heart-warming so abruptly at his words? Why did they sound so familiar? How the answer seemed to wish to jump out of your lips so quickly. Aemond was strange after all. Perhaps something is created just in your mind. But it couldnât be, could it?
âYes, Aemond,â you whispered, your voice trembling with joy. âI will.â
His smile, rare and sincere, was a sight that imprinted itself deeply into your memory. Wishing you could see it again. He lifted one of your hands to his lips, your knuckles being touched so softly and yet intimately by them as his violet eye seemed to stare deep into yours.
You awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream lingering in your mind like the last notes of a haunting melody. You could still smell the scent of the flowers. Feel the touch of his lips on your skin. You realized in that moment that your journey here was no accident. The castle, the dreams, Aemondâthey were pieces of a puzzle you were destined to uncover. Meant to find.
Clutching the blanket tighter around you, you knew the first light of day would bring with it a new resolve. You would unravel the past, discover the hidden secrets of this place, and understand why destiny had led you here. There ought to be answers somewhere in those walls. It was not just an abandoned relic; it was a bridge to your past, a testament to a love that had defied time itself.
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