#this is actually a picture. van took the picture. this is a while before they discover van also has a crush on lottie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sp0o0kylights · 2 months ago

Text

Part one here:: link

"oh i dunno if Im going to finish this" I say, right before the plot ate me. anyway this was too big to post in full to tumblr. If you want the full, completed fic (with bonus Fun Fic Facts tm) it is finished and up on A03 here:: link

TW vomiting, drug use

Eddie is good.

Eddie is kind.

Eddie does not run over Henderson’s bike, laying haphazardly in Harrington’s pristine driveway, even if it would make him feel better.

He does slam his van into park with enough force to make the brakes squeal, which he decides is an excellent way to announce his appearance to the entire neighborhood.

It’s a move he’s pulled countless times. Charging in and making a scene meant people forgot that he couldn’t actually fight for shit, and equally, took their attention off whatever their original target was.

Which in this case, was Eddie’s too fucking nice freshman.

The rage pulsing through him is white hot and all encompassing, and it’ll get him through a lot--but the switchblade he carries ensures everyone’s safety in these little matters.

It makes him brave.

Braver than he should be really, but Eddie spent the entire drive over here chain smoking out the window while prepping for this little confrontation and the more he’d thought it all over, the madder he got.

That a washed up jock thought he could still take advantage of actual children.

Nevermind Hellfire, or Henderson ditching, or Sinclaire’s ranting.

This was about their relationship with Harrington.

A picture has been building in Eddie’s head. One that’s only gotten clearer after today, and one he will be putting an end to, because he doesn’t believe for a second Harrington has a headache.

Henderson might always be the smartest person in the room, but he’s dumb as hell socially. Too honest, too blunt, and frankly, too goodhearted.

That makes him easy to take advantage of.

Sinclair was worse--the guy was too easy to guilt trip.

It was a noted issue with his ranger, and apparently, himself, and Eddie could easily see how Harrington could have twisted the idea of some ridiculous life-debt to keep Lucas in his clutches.

Even Mayfield, Billy Hargrove’s former stepsister, was wrapped up in Harrington enough to have a go at her own friends over him!

She wasn’t even one of his flock, but Eddie was her neighbor. Saw how her mom was barely home. How she was practically raising herself, head down, doing her best not to ever let people see her cry.

Yeah.

Wouldn’t exactly be difficult for a guy like Steve Harrington to swoop in and take advantage there.

Wheeler clearly wasn’t a fan and Eddie can only come up with reason after reason as to why--King Jackass had the poor kid’s entire friend group under some kind of--of sick spell.

Well.

Eddie was here to break it.

Even if it meant storming into the King’s castle by himself and calling him out on his shit.

Nobody fucked with his people. Especially not douchebag, washed up jocks.

He’s up to Harringotn’s ridiculous double doors in a flash, banging hard on the wood with a closed fist, positively fuming and uncaring of who sees.

Surprise, surprise, it’s Henderson who opens it.

“Eddie?” He says, blinking up at him like he’s not sure of what he’s seeing. “What are you--hey!”

Hey, because Eddie’s pushed past him, storming into the house.

“This has gone on long enough.” He announces, loud as he ever has been. “Where the hell’s Harrington?”

Henderson, frustratingly, does not weep or throw his hands up in celebration of Eddie’s incoming rescue.

Which is fine--Eddie hasn’t broken the spell yet.

Unfortunately he is bitching, in that infamously annoying tone of his.

“Dude, shut up, Steve’s pills really only work for like, an hour--”

“Fantastic, he’ll be clear headed for our little talk.” Eddie tells him, head sweeping left and right as he looks for his target. He’s been in Casa de Harrington a few times before to deal, but it was always at night.

He can now say with perfect honesty that the place looks worse in the bright light of the day.

“Was that Eddie?” Sinclair calls, and Eddie orients towards him instantly, storming down the hall.

It doesn’t take long to find the kid.

Lucas is standing in a kitchen larger than Eddie’s entire trailer, a too-large pink apron drowning his frame.

He turns, revealing the front of the thing has ‘Whisk Taker’ written on it in syrupy white font.

(Baking puns. Disgusting.)

“Are you cooking?” Eddie accuses with a sneer, though his disgust isn’t aimed at the freshmen.

This is exactly what he was afraid of finding.

Lucas just stares at him. “Uh--yeah?”

“What did I say about too many people, Munson?” Mayfrield spits angrily. It takes a second to locate her--the kitchen is enormous and far too white--but eventually Eddie realizes she’s perched up on a counter next to the largest sink he’s ever seen.

For a second, Eddie thinks that’s just where she’s chosen to sit. Then she moves, and he realizes she’s washing and drying a series of water bottles.

He never in his life thought he’d witness Maxine Mayfield willingly do someone else's dishes.

“Someone get me Harrington.” He’s not trying for anything dramatic, but his voice must sound dangerous because all three freshmen stop dead, eyes wide as if he's just spoken in tongues.

He zeroes in on Dustin with a glare. “Now.”

Who huffs, throwing his hands up in the air like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here.

“Absolutely not--we just got Steve to sit down. He’s been following me around the house insisting I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing!”

“Because you are.” Steve says, voice dripping with calm condescension as he appears like a wraith in the doorway. “And I know you’re all into the whole dungeon game, Munson, but this is a little dramatic, even for you.”

Eddie whirls to face him, already vibrating with fury. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s treating them like his personal minions. What’s next, Harrington? Gonna make them re-shingle the roof? Paint your house? Wax your car?”

Steve gives him a flat, almost disbelieving stare. “Do you seriously think I had Henderson miss your game just so I could lounge around while he’s doing chores?”

Eddie doesn’t bite, too busy unloading. “Oh we can both see it’s more than that.”

He doesn’t notice the way Steve’s jaw tenses, or how his hand creeps up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple.

“Anything else you want done, Harrington? Maybe make ‘em mow the lawn?” Eddie sneers. “Or teach ‘em to plump your pillows just the way you like—”

Steve finally snaps, pushing himself upright. “You know what Munson, you're right,” he says, voice tight with barely-contained frustration. “I’m clearly a terrible person they need to be rescued from so--”

He cuts himself off with a hiss, eyes squeezing shut as his hand goes to the side of his head, and spits out his next words like they hurt.

“You can play the good guy and take them all home.”

Dustin, with an exasperated sigh, steps between them. “No,” he tells Steve sternly, as if managing an unruly child, before spinning on his heel to say the exact same thing, in the exact same tone--to Eddie.

(Jackass freshman can’t even appreciate when they’re being actively rescued!)

“Eddie, I promise that this isn’t what it looks like.”

For anyone else it would sound like a plea, but Henderosn somehow makes it condescending.

“We can explain, alright?” Dustin says, raising his hands as though coaxing a skittish animal. “Will you let us explain? Please?”

Eddie glowers.

“You clearly do not, in fact, know what this looks like. Because if you did,”

Eddie can make himself menacing and he does so now, pulling on every single year of drama and theatrics and lying to cops he’s had, pushing his shoulders back and making his body tall.

“You would know that it looks like a guy who peaked in high school is forcing a bunch of fourteen year olds to do his bidding.”

He takes an aggressive step towards Steve, boots thunking hard on the floor. “And that isn’t happening on my watch.”

“Aren’t you like an extra super senior?” Mayfield says, arms crossed over her chest.

“Irrelevant!” Eddie swats the air in her direction, as if to physically bat away her words. “I’m still in high school and I’m not emotionally blackmailing a bunch of kids into waiting on me hand and foot while I fake a headache!”

“Oh ew.” Max’s nose scrunches in disgust, a mixture of disbelief and fury warring on her face. “That is not what’s happening here.”

“Were you even listening earlier?!” Lucas says, like he can’t quite believe Eddie is this dumb.

(His character will be the next to die, so Eddie swears.)

“I did.” Eddie points a finger at him, triumphant. “I heard all about how he’s tricked you into thinking you owe him a life-debt!”

“A what?” Harrington’s squinting, like he’s struggling to follow along what is happening. It’s a halfway decent sick act, Eddie will give it to him, but he knows the facade will drop in a moment.

As soon as the asshole loses his temper and decides to try and throw Eddie out, he’ll switch from the Poor Me act into the usual pompous, rich dick on a rampage persona.

“How he��s saved you all, convinced you and Henderson that you’re in debt to him.”

“Could we just---please stop yelling?” Steve says in the background, heel pressing hard against his eyes.

Then winces like his own voice hurts his head.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Dustin’s cut across the room, stepping in between the two older teens. “Where did this even come from!?”

“Guys.”

“The mouths of babes, Henderson. Which you would know if you witnessed Sinclair’s rant instead of missing out because King Dickhead demanded your presence at his castle!”

“Guys.” Steve’s voice abruptly takes on a weird tone, and it’s only Mayfield’s eyes popping wide that has Eddie realizing something is wrong--right before Harrington shoots past him, noisily hurling in the sink.

“Gross!” Max shrieks, throwing herself off the counter.

Harrington aims a shaky middle finger in her direction.

“I just washed those bottles Steve, I'm not washing them again!” Mayfield rants, but she’s not fooling anyone. Not with the way she’s already edging back towards him, like she’s afraid he might fall over.

(Worse, like she might try to catch him, as if Harrington’s broad, barbarian-like shoulders wouldn’t flatten her instantly.)

“Al-’right.” Harrington slurs a moment later, still panting over the sink. “Everyone--out. Now.”

“Steve--”

“Nope. Making it worse. Out.”

He manages to stand and turn, leaning hard against the counter and for the first time since this all started, Eddie looks at him.

Properly, and not through the lens of righteous fury.

Harrington’s pale.

The shirt he’s wearing is stained with sweat marks, his sweatpants clearly old and worn for comfort rather than style.

His hair…

Eddie has never seen Harrington without his infamously perfect hairdo, and the messy, slick waves plastered to his forehead is more of a shock then him vomiting in the sink.

He’s got his hands pressed hard against his eyes again, and there’s a slight tremble in his fingers that belay he’s likely in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.

In short, Harrington looks like absolute shit, and Eddie, maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit believes he actually has a migraine.

Well, it was that or he was really committed to the bit…

The tense silence that has befallen them all is ruined when Harrington makes a ‘hurk.’ noise.

“I’m going to throw up again.” He decides after a moment of contemplation, before whipping back around to the sink and doing just that.

“Steve’s right.” Mayfield decides suddenly, over all the nasty noises. “We should leave.”

“I’m almost done cooking!” Sinclair protests, as if Harrington isn’t presently throwing up the contents of his stomach.

“You’re almost done burning things, you mean.” Max mutters, but her words can’t hide the blatant concern written all over his face. “I don’t think he’s going to keep anything down.”

“He needs us to finish what we started.” Dustin argues passionately. “You know how bad he gets, he’s not gonna be able to get up in an hour!”

(A clear exaggeration, because Harrington looks like he’s not gonna make it across the kitchen unassisted.)

“What I need is for everyone to stop talking so fucking loud.” Harrington moans, before appearing to give up on life entirely.

He sort of sags against the counter, resting his head against his arms while bent double, as if that would help things.

It was at this point that Eddie had the most unfortunate realization that he might be the asshole here.

Because Harrington looks rough--and if he actually does in fact, have a migraine, then Eddie has done nothing but make it worse.

(Very likely the freshmen have as well, given Dustin is incapable of talking in anything other than a loud yell, and the smell of Lucas’s burnt food has permeated the air.

Mayfield seemed to have accomplished a small amount of actual work, at least.

…If Harrington managed to miss throwing up on the water bottles.)

“Look,” Harrington interrupts with an audible, thick swallow.“You guys did great, and I appreciate the uh, help. I’m fine, I promise, you can all go home. Munson,”

He doesn’t turn, but his voice does change into something that’s half pleading, half demanding.

“Can we please fight about this tomorrow? Or next week?”

“No fighting!” Dustin shrieks, which has the effect of making Harrington cringe into the counter--and that is what finally kicks Eddie over.

Bows to the instincts that now want to wrap up Harrington in a blanket over the ones that want to strangle him, (though both are very much at odds in his head with each other.)

“We can put a pin in it.” He says, all the venom dropping out of his voice, already knowing what’s going to happen next and hating himself for it.

Even at his absolute worst, Eddie has never been able to resist trying to fix a problem he’s been presented with--or turn down someone who needs help.

Harrington, clearly, needs help.

“You heard him.” He tells his freshman, then immediately holds up a hand when all three try to protest at once.

“Ah-ah, inside voices.” He himself uses a harsh whisper, and then has to fight not to laugh aloud when all three abruptly eye him like he’s lost his head.

He probably has.

(Fucking King Steve.

No one who is that much of a douchebag should ever look that pathetic without deserving it, it’s against the Munson doctrine.)

“Henderson, have you done anything actually useful while you’ve been here? Like, say, getting a warm washcloth?”

“I--oh.” Dustin’s on the defense instantly, but for once actually listens before he finishes his sentence. “Uh. No.”

“Go do that then.” Eddie instructs, making sure to keep his voice quiet and even.

“Sinclair, toss out the eggs, then take the garbage out so it’ll stop stinking up the place. Mayfield, see if these windows open. Harrington…”

He pauses, watching as Harrington tries to gather himself, moving slowly and deliberately like even breathing hurts. His entire appearance is grating Eddie’s nerves—not because he doesn’t care, but because he does, and that’s infuriating.

“Go lay down, man.” He finishes lamely.

He expects the freshmen to listen to him. Knows they will, in his heart of hearts, even if they bitch back, because that’s just how things are when he decides to take charge. So few people truly want to, that others are often relieved when he does.

Steve Harrington is not most people.

If he argues, he could very well tip things out of control again, which means Eddie is likely going to have to force the trio of fourteen year olds out of the house.

Henderson and Sinclair he can manage but Mayfield…

Thankfully, Steve pushes off the counter with a groan, muttering something under his breath, but slowly making his way toward the couch without any other protest.

The freshmen exchange glances, all of them looking just as unsure as Eddie feels. Like they’re waiting for instructions now that their default leader is down for the count.

He clears his throat pointedly.

“Hello? Did I not give you marching orders?” He bats his hands at them. “Go march!”

Mayfield mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “hypocrite” but thankfully, does as asked.

“Are you gonna give us a ride home?” Henderson asks as he finally starts moving around--hopefully to get a damn washcloth.

“You got yourself here, you can get yourself home.” Eddie scoffs back, taking stock of Harrington’s kitchen.

He eyes the line of pain pills laid out on the counter, quickly noting not one of them is anything that would help with a sneeze let alone a migraine.

Typical.

“Why not?” Dustin disappeared down a hallway, but the fact Eddie can still hear him plain as day speaks to his ability to keep quiet. “You have your van, don’t you?”

“Because I’m not leaving when you three are leaving.”

It’s an absentminded comment, given his mind is elsewhere.

Weed may be his bread and butter but he does have a handful of more serious things on offer.

Of those things, one or two have some fun little unexpected side effects, and if Eddie recalls Rick’s yapping right, one of said things was stopping headaches.

Said magic little mushrooms might even be in a pocket or two, here, if he remembers right…

“Wait, you're staying here?” Lucas protests, far too loudly.

"Ssszzhh!" Eddie hisses, drawing out the sound dramatically, mostly for the sake of cutting off whatever protests were coming his way.

“No arguing. Your beloved King clearly needs a nap, and that means you’re all off duty. Unless," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "you intend to watch him sleep?"

Dustin looks torn, but mutters a quiet, "No," his eyes shifting sideways like he's weighing the logic.

"Good. Then if you’re all finished…?”

He waits for the nods he knows are coming.

“Excellent. Now leave." Eddie says, pointing towards the door.

They hesitate for a second, but then finally begin to shuffle out, the door clicking quietly behind them.

And just like that, Eddie’s left standing there, watching Steve breathe shallowly on the couch--with a washrag over his eyes.

(At least Dustin managed that.)

He could leave now.

Should leave, really. Giving out drugs for free is not exactly a good business move and Steve will no doubt sleep the headache off without it. But Eddie’s feet don't seem to agree with him, rooted in place as his gaze lingers on the sharp line of Steve's jaw, the slight twitch of his brow every time a muscle aches.

Feels the pull, deep in his gut, to provide the relief he knows he can give.

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s moving, crossing the room toward him.

“Munson?” Harrington squints up at him as he registers his presence, washcloth nudged upwards by shaky fingers. “Why’r you still ‘ere?”

“Because I’m stupid.” Eddie mutters, right before realizing he actually said that outloud.

“What?”

Thank God for Harrington’s headache.

“You look terrible, man.” Eddie says slightly louder. “That hair of yours is so flat I think your crown’s gonna fall right off.”

He’d meant it as a joke--spoke it like one, but it seems to snap Harrington out of his pity party.

The sigh that blasts out of him is a whole body affair, and gets his feelings across better than his words do. “I get it. You thought this was something else and it wasn’t. Not the first time that’s happened.”

He turns, cheek scraping against the fabric of his shirt, red rimmed eyes squinting against the light to look at Eddie.

“You got your laugh in, so you can go.”

There’s defeat in his voice. Like he’s accepted this might as well have happened.

(Like he’s just as beaten down as anyone Eddie has ever saved.)

“I didn’t stick around to laugh.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, and that somehow, makes the next part easier to say.

“I honestly thought you were messing around with Henderson and Sinclair, and I uh, I’m used to being the only person who gives a shit. When that kind of thing happens.”

Harrington grimaces.

“It’s okay.” he mutters, eyes sliding closed once more. “Most people still think I’m an asshole.”

His tone has gone odd again, wrecked and rasping, migraine clearly trumping whatever strong feelings he had on the matter.

And the stupid thing was, Harrington himself was never really an asshole.

Sure he went along with the assholes, and he definitely egged them on if not outright participated in some of the lower tier shitty activities, but he wasn’t the guy slamming people into lockers.

(Eddie, in fact, has a hazy memory of Steve telling off Hagan for doing said locker slamming.)

It didn’t make him a good guy--he’d had slung too many insults around to get that label--but in the rankings of assholery, his was of the average variety.

Which means that Eddie cannot logic himself out of his own stupid desire to help.

Even if he really, really wants to.

“Yeah well, even assholes need assistance sometimes, and since I kicked your help out, it’s on to make up for it.”

“No offense,” Steve slurs tiredly, “but I don’t think you’re any quieter than Dustin.”

A smile ghosts over Eddie’s face.

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, Harrington. Trust me, I know how to be quiet. I simply choose not to be.” He moves, slow and careful, until he’s seated next to the fallen King on his stupidly huge (and very uncomfortable) couch.

Steve’s eye follows him over, staring up as he white knuckles his sweatpants, washrag sitting crooked on his forehead.

“I’m not sure I’m not gonna throw up again.” He admits after a moment.

“And that right there is one of the things I can help with. Provided,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, “that you don’t mind taking a more recreational route for your recovery?”

“....are you offering me drugs?”

“I am indeed.” Eddie confirms with a real smile, plucking the offending baggie out of a pocket.

“You ever done shrooms, your majesty?”

Steve huffs a quiet noise that might have been a snort, had he put any effort behind it.

“How is that going to help?”

“Be-cauuuuuse,” Eddie draws the words out, still a showman even if he is doing his level best to talk as quietly as possible, “shrooms are what we call a psychedelic, and those are pretty well known among certain circles as the headache healer.”

Provided one took the medicinal amount and not the down-the-rabbit-hole amount.

Harrington’s eyes are back open, only this time they’re looking at Eddie’s fingers the same way a dog looks at a nail trimmer: concerned and not entirely unsure it wasn’t going to bite him.

“I’m not…” He cuts himself off, frowning.

“You’ve bought plenty of my weed, Harrington. Trust me this isn’t any different.” Eddie tells him.

Isn’t offended in the slightest--this reaction is pretty typical for people who have only smoked the ganja.

Even the ones who asked to try for something with a little more ‘umph.’

“S’not that.”Steve admits quietly. “I uh. Had a bad trip. While back.”

“Ah, gunshy.” Eddie says it without a lick of judgment, because Eddie’s been there.

Or rather in the shower, at two am because he accidentally spilled LSD on his hand and promptly tripped balls for 48 hours after.

“I’ll hang around a bit, if you like.” He offers casually. “Make sure things don’t go sideways.”

He gets another huff-snort as Harrington’s watery eyes return their attention to him.

“And what are you going to do if they do go sideways?”

“Put you back together again.”

Eddie knows his grin is crooked, but can’t help it. He’s thinking about Humpty Dumpty and the King’s Men.

Somehow he doesn’t see Steve Harrington cracking that easily—at least, not without putting up a good fight—but drugs did worse things to better people.

“It really helps?” Steve asks, voice quiet. Doubtful.

Eddie presses his hands to his chest. “Scouts honor.”

“You were not a boy scout.” Steve tells him, but he’s struggling to sit up anyway, looking game.

“Alright, so how do I do this?” He asks, though he’s already halfway down again, propped up on his elbows.

“First, you lay back down, and I’ll brew it into tea,” Eddie explains.

“Tea?”

“Well, you could eat them straight, but I don’t think they’d taste too great. Not that I wouldn’t mind watching you try.”

Steve scowls. “Sadist.”

“Guilty,” Eddie replies, biting back the urge to sing-song it, keeping his voice down and steady. “Just a heads-up: they kick in fast, but I’ll go light on you—nothing like the ‘fun’ dose for the usual crowd.”

Which is how he ends up back in the kitchen, this time making tea and humming to himself, before offering the final brewed concoction to Harrington.

Who downs it like a shot, because he’s a fucking frat-bro at heart.

“I didn’t find a teacup for you to do that.”

Between a full-body shudder and a dramatic grimace, Steve chokes out “Not gonna lie I didn’t think we owned a teacup.”

“What, do you think I just have them in my van?”

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Which is kind of hysterical, and something Eddie may be doing--not that he’s telling Harrington that.

“And now we wait!” He announces instead of rambling about teacups, nearly clapping his hands together before he remembers the migraine Steve is soldiering through with surprising grit.

Eddie himself would have turned into a whiny mess, so he can’t help but admire the guy’s restraint.

“Waiting to see if I hurl again, you mean?” Steve mutters, flopping backward onto the couch. “That tasted like battery acid.”

“Think it’s coming back up?”

“No clue.”

They sit in silence for a second, then Eddie pokes, “Maybe it’s best if you crash in your room, man. You look like death warmed over, and this couch sucks.”

An understatement, if there ever was one. The fucking thing didn’t seem to be made for people to actually sit on.

Reluctantly, Steve pulls himself up, heading toward his room. Eddie tags along, snarky grin covering the way he holds his hands out in case the jock ahead of him slips on the stairs and takes them both out.

(Unlike Mayfield, Eddie does not pretend Steve doesn’t outclass him weight wise. The man was built like a brickhouse, and he has to fight to keep his eyes up toward Steve’s hair instead of on his ass.)

Thankfully, he’s saved from all R-rated thoughts by the sheer horror of Harrington’s bedroom.

“Harrington, I’ve found the source of all your migraines.” Eddie tells him, tone as serious as he’s ever been.

“Ha-ha.” Steve deadpans, stepping into his plaid fucking room.

“I’m not kidding, I’m getting a headache and I’ve been here less than five seconds.”

The whole place truly is a nightmare--like someone took one of those plaid hunting jackets and themed an entire room around it.

Fucking rich people.

“Trust me, it’s not the wallpaper.”

“Given how you’re weaving on your feet, I think it’s safe to say I don’t trust you at all.” Eddie tells him, half helping half dragging Steve towards the bed.

It’s a comfy looking thing and Harrington falls into it gratefully, immediately crawling under the covers.

“You know where to find me?” Eddie asks him, refusing to think Harrington snuggling up in his bed is something cute.

“Yeah?”

“Good. Hit me up next time your head gets bad. I’ll make sure to keep some of this,” He shakes the little baggie, “on hand.”

Steve’s pulled the covers all the way up past his chin, but he moves it down a little to properly cock an eye at Eddie.

“Dare I ask what you're gonna charge for that?”

“Let’s call it a fair trade for all those times you’ve driven the freshman home from Hellfire.”

If Steve even recalls this conversation, that is. Eddie hadn’t exactly given him the “fun” kind of dose, but then, he himself has never tested out what dose is needed to cure headaches rather than simply having fun destroying one's own ego.

He supposes that’s something he and Harrington both will have to test, between them--because Eddie meant it when he offered the drugs for free.

No one deserves to suffer from the kind of migraine Harrington clearly had.

“Think you’re good to drop off.” Eddie tells him, after making sure Steve is happily content in his bed.

Checks his watch to make sure enough time has passed to safely call it, before beginning to attempt his way out of Steve’s god-awful bedroom.

Which of course, is when Harrington reaches out, looping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist.

It freezes him in place.

In a moment that is so utterly selfish and stupid that Eddie will loudly insist it was a hallucination should Harrington ever dare ask about it, he turns his palm and moves so that he’s clasping Steve’s fingers with his own.

“Thanks. For all this.” Steve whispers, as they hold hands for a moment.

Eddie squeezes his fingers against the younger man’s before he moves to make his retreat, flashing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes.

“Anytime, big boy.”

Anytime.

xxx

The thing no one tells you about creating a doctrine, is that at some point or another, someone’s going to hold you to it.

In Eddie’s case it’s four very pissed off teenagers.

He has a gold medal in mental gymnastics and a silver in denial. Left on his own devices he could easily excuse everything that happened yesterday.

Reclassify the fallen King as pathetic, and the kids' weird loyalty to him as a holdover from his babysitting days.

Blame their nosy-ness on them being involved in Harrington’s life, and happily go back to mocking their relationship with renewed vigor because now he’s not going to handwave their behavior as being afraid of Harrington.

Nope, they clearly and willingly, have attached themselves to the King, which means Eddie gets to make fun of them for life.

Pity they don’t leave Eddie to his own devices.

In fact, the little shits hit him up first thing in the morning, early enough that he's’ a little suspicious that the boys slept over at Max’s trailer.

“We’re not done talking about Steve.” Mayfield tells him and given the determined (Henderson) angry (Sinclair) and put out (Wheeler Jr.) faces glaring at him from over her shoulder, Eddie figures his chances for getting out of this conversation are slim to none.

“Good morning to you too.” He snarks, voice gravel-deep with sleep. “What do you little shits want?”

“I literally just said.” Max rolls her eyes so hard he thinks about commenting that they may stick back there, only to decide that makes him sound too much like a teacher for his liking.

(Besides if they get stuck, he’ll have an excuse to whack her on the back of her head without getting murdered for it.

…well.

An attempt at an excuse, anyway.)

“And who says I have anything I want to talk about?” He fires back, leaning a shoulder against the old metal doorframe.

Just because he understood what they wanted didn’t mean he was going to make it easy.

“Would you just let us in?”

“No.”

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, and Eddie redirects his frown his way. “Come on.”

“Well I suppose if you say it that way,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “No.”

“Steve’s sick, you asswipe.” Max snaps angrily.

“I know,” He volleys back, brightly sarcastic. “I saw him yesterday.”

Because it’s Mayfield, she matches him tit for tat, a mimicry of his sarcastic drawl entering her voice. “Good! You get to see him today too.”

And just like that their little ambush makes sense.

(He’s got to find a new way to get the damn kids to fear him, clearly his usual menacingness just isn’t cutting it anymore.)

“And why would I do that?”

He’s done his good deed. He helped Harrington out, and even offered free drugs to help him get his migraines under control.

Checking up on the guy was overkill.

“We were gonna do it, but someone let it slip that Steve was sick.” A cutting glance is given to Henderson, who makes a face but otherwise holds his ground.

“And his mom called everyone else's parents with instructions that we leave him alone until he feels better.”

“So now if we go over there,” Sinclair finishes for his girlfriend, “we get grounded.”

Which neatly answers every question that just popped into Eddie’s head.

The threat makes sense for the boys--Eddie’s met Claudia Henderson and though she has that bubbly, easy to confuse nature of suburbanites everywhere, there was an undercurrent in her eyes of someone who knew more than she was letting on.

Or perhaps, someone who simply knew what they wanted, and was happy to settle and wait for it.

Likewise the Sinclair and Wheeler parental units seem to want to keep in her--and Steve’s, no doubt, given he carts their kids around--good graces.

Given Mayfield’s mom wasn’t even home last night, her participation in this farce does not make sense and Eddie narrows his eyes at her in warning.

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” He says instead of directly calling her out.

She knows he knows, and he’s smart enough to figure out how to relay that without saying it directly.

(An action taken out of respect for surviving a bad home life, and absolutely not because he’s terrified she’ll crawl through his window to enact revenge in the middle of the night.)

“It’s your problem because you owe him one.” she tells him firmly. “And us.”

Oh no he does not.

“How so?” He challenges with a snorted laugh.

“You did kind of storm into his house and yell a lot.” Sinclair points out. He’s doing better at speaking up, Eddie realizes with a twisted sense of pride and dread.

Not quite so easy to steamroll after his outburst yesterday.

A part of him hopes that sticks around--Sinclair needs a spine, and not just because Mayfield will keep running circles around him until he grows one.

The rest of Eddie is pissed off that he decided to get one now, when it directly impacted Eddie’s Saturday morning sleeping plans.

Leave it to these dickheads to use a good deed against him.

“Look--we can’t make sure he’s okay. You can.” Mayfield steps up to jam a painted fingernail in Eddie’s chest. “He won’t let us do anything that will actually help him. You, he can't stop.”

He does not take a step backward and thus lose all the cool points he has left in the eyes of the younger Hellfire members, but only because he’s already leaned up against the doorframe.

He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl instead.

“We made it worse.” She admits, voice sharp. “And I don’t know how to make it better, but you seem to be able to, so congrats Munson--you get to go again!”

Which gets Eddie’s back right up.

He pushes off the doorframe, ready to tell Mayfield--and all his little dipshits--right off, except this is when Wheeler Jr., of all people, decides to add in his two cents.

“If you don’t go, no one else will.” He looks off to the side while he says it, arms crossed tight across his chest and spitting the words out like he's admitting to a crime. “Robin’s not coming back until Monday and Nancy's got some stupid thing, so you’re literally the only person who can go.”

Well just stab him in the heart, why don’t you.

“What are the chances of you fucking back off to whatever hole you crawled out of if I refuse?” He asks, already knowing that he’s done for.

Accepted his fate, because he knows what it’s like not to have someone to rely on, when you need them the most.

“Zero.” Sinclair and Henderson chant as one.

“Well then.” He tells them with the biggest, most put upon sigh he can manage. “Guess you got me in a box here.”

Mayfield grins at him.

It reminds him vaguely of a shark.

A bloodthirsty, slightly demonic, mean shark.

“Good. Go get dressed.”

“Oh I’m doing this right now, am I?” He complains, but he’s already moving to go back into his trailer.

“We’re not leaving until you do!” Mayfield yells at him.

Eddie slams the door in her face.

(He’s never adopting freshmen again, as long as he fucking lives.)

395 notes · View notes

doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months ago

Text

A Very Supernatural Christmas | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: discussions of childhood trauma lol, discussions of religious trauma lololol, canon violence, canon gore, talking about Dean's deal sad face

Word Count: 7223

A/N: One of my favorite episodes of all time ever. I am so excited to share this with you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the support. I love y’all!

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

In the middle of nowhere in Michigan, you and Dean posed as FBI agents investigating a holly jolly potential case.

“Um, my daughter and I were in our beds,” the woman before you shakily explained.

“Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the roof, and then, I heard Mike scream. And now I’m talking to the FBI.”

“And you didn't see any of it?” Dean questioned.

She shook her head tearfully. “No, he was… he was just gone.”

“The doors were locked? There was no forced entry?” you asked.

“That’s right,” she replied.

“Does anybody else have a key?” you suggested.

“My parents.”

“Where do they live?”

“Florida.”

Sam then walked out of the house. “ Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh, got just about everything we need. We’re all set.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Dean told her.

The three of you started down the steps.

“Agents?” Mrs. Walsh called.

You turned to face her.

“The police said my husband might have been kidnapped.”

“Could be,” Dean shrugged.

“Then… why haven’t the kidnappers called? O-Or demanded a ransom? It’s three days till Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?” she began to cry.

“We’re very sorry,” you said empathetically. You watched the distressed woman turn to go back inside, and the heavy Christmas wreath on the door clunked against the door when she shut it.

“Find anything?” Dean asked Sam as the three of you walked away from the house.

Sam sighed. “Stocking, mistletoe… this.” He took something out of his pocket and dropped it into Dean’s hand.

You inspected it. “A tooth?” you asked upon seeing the bloody bone.

“Where was this?” Dean looked up at Sam and away from the tooth.

“In the chimney,” Sam replied.

“Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It’s too narrow,” Dean grimaced.

“At least, not in one piece,” you winced.

“Alright, so, if dad went up the chimney—”

“We need to find out what dragged him up there,” Sam finished.

***

Christmas had never been a completely happy time for you. Growing up Catholic, there was always a hint of, perhaps, fear that came with the holiday. The idea that Christ was supposed to come again, and his second coming would mean the end of the world was unsettling to you, even as an incredibly pious child.

Working jobs around the holidays always managed to recreate that unsettled feeling for you. Something so gruesome like the case you were dealing with now around such a happy holiday always made you nostalgic for a childhood you never had: an innocent one.

Around your motel room, Sam was pinning pictures of demons up while you researched on your laptop. The door opened, and Dean came inside.

“So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?” Dean smirked, carrying a brown paper bag.

Sam mirrored Dean’s expression. “Yep. It's, uh, it’s actually Dick Van Dyke.”

Dean looked confused, but you snickered.

“Who?” Dean asked.

“Dude,” you said, “Mary Poppins?”

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, god, you’re hopeless,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month,” Dean explained.

“The other guy get dragged up the chimney, too?” Sam asked.

“Don’t know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof,” Dean shrugged. “So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?”

“Actually, I have an idea,” Sam replied. “Uh, it's gonna sound crazy.”

“What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?” Dean deadpanned.

“How ‘bout evil Santa,” you smirked.

Dean considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah… I mean, I’m just saying that there’s some version of the anti-Claus in every culture,” Sam said while he showed Dean drawings of the creature. “You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there’s all sorts of lore.”

“Saying what?” Dean looked incredulous.

“Saying, back in the day, Santa’s brother went rogue and now he shows up around Christmas time, but instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked.”

“By hauling their ass up chimneys?” Dean snorted. “So, this is your theory, huh? Santa’s shady brother?”

Sam shrugged. “Well, ah, I’m just saying, that’s what the lore says.”

“Santa doesn’t have a brother. There is no Santa.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re the one who told me that in the first place, remember,” Sam sassed at his brother.

Dean looked down, seeming to feel a little guilty.

Finally, Sam sighed. “Yeah, you know what, I could be wrong. I gotta be wrong.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You and Sam were confused.

“I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched,” Dean explained.

“Where?” Sam asked.

***

The place Dean was referring to was a cutesy little craft fair called “Santa’s Village.” Children played and people bustled around wearing Christmas costumes.

“It does kind of lend credence to the theory, don’t it?” Dean remarked, looking around himself.

“Yeah, but anti-Claus? Couldn’t be,” Sam replied.

“It’s a Christmas miracle. Hey, speaking of, we should have one this year,” Dean suggested casually.

You remained quiet, feeling almost sorrowful at his statement given he’d discussed bringing this up to Sam with you.

“Have one what?”

“A Christmas.”

Sam scoffed. “No, thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon, Sam,” you said, swallowing your emotions.

“Yeah, we’ll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little,” Dean continued.

“Dean, those weren’t exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know,” Sam reminded his brother.

“What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases.”

“Whose childhood are you talking about?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Sam.”

“No! Just… no.”

You and Dean were both surprised by Sam’s petulance. “Alright, Grinch,” Dean snarked. He walked ahead, and you remained by his side.

“What’s Sam talking about?” you asked quietly.

“Ah, I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I mean, Dad was out all the time, and Sammy and I fought… a lot… as kids, but I didn’t think it’d scar him.”

You turned back to Sam who still seemed lost in thought.

“Hey, Scrooge,” you called, which seemed to shake the younger brother out of his own head, “you comin’?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m with you.” He caught back up to you and Dean.

“What are we looking for, again?” Dean asked him.

“Um…” Sam trailed off, “lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets.”

“Great. So we’re looking for a pimp Santa,” Dean said dryly. “Why the sweets?”

“Think about it, Dee,” you replied. “If you smell like candy, the kids will come closer. Which is wrong on just… so many levels.”

Sam chuckled.

“How does this thing know who’s been naughty and who’s been nice?” Dean questioned.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Dean turned toward a man dressed as Santa taking pictures with a child whose mother stood close by. “Maybe we do,” he noted.

***

Later that night, you and the Winchesters were just about to confront and kill who you thought was your Krampus. Fortunately for the Santa actor from earlier in the day, you realized the man was just a lonely old creep.

After an uncomfortable rendition of “Silent Night” that Dean led you and Sam in singing in an attempt to explain why you were in the creepy Santa’s house, you slumped down in the backseat of the Impala.

“Well, back to square one, I guess,” you sighed. “Also, Dean, couldn’t you have picked a song you actually knew the words to?”

“Hey, I did know the words,” he replied, beginning to drive off.

“Yeah, all two of ‘em,” Sam chimed in.

You giggled. “Hey, Sam?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Why do you hate Christmas so much?”

The younger brother sighed. “(Y/N)...”

Dean took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. “I mean, I admit it. Y’know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids.”

“ ‘Bumpy’?” Sam scoffed.

“That was then. We’ll do it right this year,” Dean tried.

“Look, Dean. If you and (Y/N) want to have Christmas, knock yourselves out. Just don’t involve me.” Sam shifted in his seat to face the dark night that had fallen outside of the car.

Dean grumbled, “Oh, yeah, that’d be great. Me and (Y/N) making cranberry molds.”

You knew Dean wasn’t actually opposed to just enjoying Christmas with you, but he wanted to involve his brother.

***

“Wanna smoke?” you asked Dean.

Sam was still wide awake in his bed, and you and Dean had some things to talk about without the younger Winchester present.

He nodded and followed you out of the room.

Despite the lack of snow on the ground, you were bundled in one of Dean’s hoodies to protect you from the slight chill in the air.

“I think you’re turnin’ me into a fiend,” Dean commented as you lit your joint.

“Well, I’d rather you smoke a plant than drown yourself in booze,” you replied, a slight tremble in your voice from the cold.

“I meant to tell you earlier,” Dean began, taking the joint from you and looking at the ground, “you’ve got a real beautiful voice.”

You laughed softly and hopped up on the trunk of the Impala. “You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause you and Sam are terrible.”

“I’m serious,” he said, blowing the smoke at you playfully.

You scrunched up your nose and shut your eyes to avoid the puff. When you reopened them, you found Dean staring at you with that confusing expression again. After all this time, you still couldn’t place what that look meant.

“What?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

He shook his head, still admiring you and smirking. “Nothin’.”

“So, do you want me to talk to Sam? About Christmas?” Dean’s intense stare was making you nervous, and you needed to break it up with the conversation you initially wanted to have with him.

“Nah,” Dean shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”

You opened your arms to him and gestured for him to come lean against you. He turned his back to the Impala, and you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his shoulder before placing your chin on top of it. The two of you just sat like that in silence in the cold, enjoying each other’s company while getting lost in thought.

“What was your Christmas like? As a kid, I mean?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

You picked your chin up off his shoulder and stuck your hands in your pockets. “Oh, gosh,” you sighed. “It was always a little less ‘candy canes and Rudolph’ and a little more ‘fear and condemnation’.”

Dean jumped up on the trunk next to you and turned, clearly a little surprised by your answer. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “Christmas always kinda felt like a threat to me. Y’know, ‘Jesus is gonna come again’ and all that.”

“That’s… weirdly dirty,” Dean commented.

You gently nudged his shoulder with yours. “Perv. Meaning Jesus is gonna come back to life and, like… destroy the planet. My mom always said Christmas was a reminder that this is not our true home.”

“This, as in, earth?” he asked, genuine intrigue in his eyes.

You nodded. “And we’re all gonna end up being judged. And if you don’t believe or follow the commandments, you’re sentenced to Hell.”

“Jesus,” Dean grimaced. “That’s a little dark to be telling a kid.”

“Tell me about it,” you smirked. “But… if that’s the truth, at least we know I’ll be seeing you again.” You turned to him, smiling a little lopsidedly.

He tried to return your smile, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I’m scared, (Y/N).”

You nodded. “I know. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head.

You took a moment to let his mind recover from his anxieties. “What were your Christmases like growing up? You said they were good, but you never told me why they were good.”

“Uh, let’s see,” Dean began, reflecting on something in his memory. “There was this one time when Dad was supposed to make it back from a hunting trip. He’d promised Sammy he’d be home for Christmas. But, uh, Dad never showed.”

You looked at him sadly.

Dean’s eyes remained focused on his hands in his lap. “I was maybe twelve. Sammy was eight. And on Christmas Eve, while he was asleep, I went out and found this really nice house.”

“You did not!” you scolded playfully, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

“I did,” Dean chuckled. “Only, I didn’t know they were chick presents. Sam was pissed when he got a Barbie instead of the green army men he’d been asking for.”

“You did the best you could,” you reminded him.

Dean shrugged. “And, uh, since he never made it back, Sam gave me the present he was planning on giving to Dad.” He thumbed the amulet around his neck and showed it to you.

“That’s so sweet,” you smiled, a tinge of nostalgic sadness behind your smile. “My little brother and I always gave each other what we could. Normally, it was just stupid little things from the gas stations around or something.” You smiled, remembering your brother fondly. “When he was seven, Steven gave me a little bracelet. He stole it out of a girl’s backpack pocket when she was waiting for her parents to finish booking a room in the motel lobby. He was a great pickpocket; you guys would’ve gotten along great.”

Dean chuckled.

“But anyway, uh, it was a little friendship bracelet. I was so upset when I grew out of it,” you said. “Biggest regret of my life is burning it with his body.”

Dean nodded somberly. “Why’d you do it?”

You shrugged. “I kept telling myself, ‘He doesn’t live in the stuff. Keeping his stuff doesn’t keep him alive.’ And I’d grown out of it, so I figured, I’d never have any use for it again. But, uh, I was an angry teenager. I was so angry at him for so long after he killed himself. I definitely threw the bracelet in the fire in a moment of anger.”

Dean just stared at you, and once again, you couldn’t read his expression.

“You keep giving me that look,” you said, staring deeply into his beautiful eyes.

“What look?” he asked. Dean clearly knew what you were talking about, as his face hadn’t really changed from the look in question; there was simply a slight tease behind his eyes on top of it.

“That look,” you said, giggling. “It frustrates me so much ‘cause it’s, like, the only facial expression on the planet I can’t read.” “Then, I’m definitely not telling you what it means now,” Dean taunted, still smirking.

You rolled your eyes and hopped off the car. Dean grabbed your arm and spun you back around to face him, putting you back on the trunk and standing between your legs. He kissed you deeply, hands eagerly trying to pull you closer despite there being no more room between the two of you.

“Dean,” you said between kisses. “Dean—”

“What?” Dean pulled back just long enough to ask you and then returned to kissing you.

“We have to go to bed now, c’mon,” you replied.

“Aw, c’mon, not yet,” Dean groaned, trailing his lips down your neck.

You sighed shakily at the feeling of his soft lips against the sensitive skin, and your eyes closed in content. “C’mon,” you whined. “I’m freezing.”

“Fine,” he groaned.

***

The next day, another poor soul had gone missing. According to the son of the man who was abducted, Santa had dragged his father up the chimney. As you left the house, Sam noticed a wreath on the hearth he’d felt noteworthy enough to ask the grieving wife about.

“Wreaths, huh?” Dean taunted, sauntering away from the woman’s house. “Sure you didn’t want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer.”

“We’ve seen that wreath before, Dean,” Sam said, ignoring his brother’s flippance.

“Where?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“The Walshes’. Yesterday.”

Dean eyed Sam curiously. “I know. I was just testing you.”

You rolled your eyes, ducking down into the Impala.

***

“I’m an idiot,” you groaned, dropping your head back.

Sam sat up from behind his laptop. “What, why?”

Dean turned to you from his spot on your shared bed as well.

“That smell,” you said. “Guys, we’re not dealing with Krampus.” You laughed at your own stupidity. “I should’ve known it from the wreath on the door at the Walshes’ house!”

“(Y/N), would you cut to the chase?” Dean asked dryly.

“It’s meadowsweet,” you revealed.

Dean whistled mockingly. “Wow! Amazing. What the hell is meadowsweet?”

“It’s pretty rare, and it’s probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore,” Sam replied.

“Pagan lore?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Meadowsweet’s for human sacrifice. It’s kinda like chum for the gods. The gods are drawn to it, and they’d stop by and snack on the nearest human.”

“Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?” Dean wondered.

“Almost every Christmas tradition is pagan, Dee,” you replied.

“Okay, Ms. Catholic, I thought it was Jesus’s birthday,” Dean snarked, a smile playing on his lips.

“No, uh, I had to unlearn that when I left the Church. Jesus’s birthday was probably in the fall. Yule was the winter solstice festival the church stole and renamed ‘Christmas.’ ‘Cause, y’know, eurocentrism. Hooray,” you explained.

Sam added, “The Yule log, the tree, even Santa’s red suit; that’s all remnants of pagan worship.”

“How do you know that? What are you two freaks gonna tell me next? Easter bunny’s Jewish?” Dean remarked.

Both of you rolled your eyes.

“So, you really think we’re gonna be dealing with a pagan god?” The older brother quirked a brow.

“Yeah, probably Hold Nickar, god of the winter solstice,” Sam noted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean huffed, “And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying ‘Come kill us’.”

Dean deadpanned, “Great.”

“Wait, Hold Nickar makes sense, though,” you chimed in, something dawning on you. “Guess what he gives you in return?”

“Lap dances, hopefully,” Dean smirked.

You gave him a look. “Mild weather.”

Dean looked out of the window. “Like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan.”

“For instance,” shrugged Sam.

“Do we know how to kill it yet?” Dean asked.

“Have you met me? That’s all I’ve been looking for the past hour.”

“While you work on that—” Sam turned to his brother, “we got to figure out where they’re selling those wreaths.”

“You think they’re selling them on purpose?” Dean questioned, sitting up on his bed.

“Feeding the victims to this thing?”

Sam sighed. “Let’s find out.”

“You keep workin’ your pagan-god-killin’ angle, (Y/N),” Dean told you, moving over to you. “Sam and I ’ll be back soon.” He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead, and your cheeks heated at the brief contact.

***

“How ‘re you supposed to kill a god, (Y/N)?” Bobby droned through the phone.

“I don’t know, dude, that’s what I’m asking you,” you sighed. “I mean, I’ve been pouring through this shit online for hours. I’m ready to pull my fucking hair out.”

“Lemme make a few calls, kid, and I’ll see what I can do,” Bobby said.

“Thanks, Bobby. You’re the best.” You sat back in your chair and clicked your phone off.

Almost as if on cue, Dean burst through the door with Sam trailing behind him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the older one drawled. “Got somethin’ for me?”

“I wish. Just sent Bobby lookin’,” you replied. “Got anything for me?”

“Actually, yeah,” Dean said. “That store we went to? Turns out, lady named Madge Carrigan gave ‘em to the store for free. How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?”

“A couple hundred dollars, at least,” Sam answered while you clacked away at your computer looking for Madge Carrigan’s home address.

“Sounds pretty suspicious,” you said absentmindedly.

“Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?” Dean laughed while he took his jacket off.

“You mean, the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?” Sam responded, an unimpressed expression crossing his features.

“Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it.” He sat on the bed closest to you and went to lean over and look at your computer.

Despite the fact that you were still on the phone, Sam asked Dean, “Alright, dude… What’s going on with you?”

You stopped typing, and both you and Dean sat up to face Sam.

“I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden?” continued the brunet. “Why do you want Christmas so bad?”

“Why are you so against it?” Dean challenged. “I mean, were your childhood memories that traumatic?”

Sam’s voice became heavy with emotion. “No, that has nothing to do with it. I-I mean, I-I just… I don’t get it. You haven’t talked about Christmas in years.”

“Well, yeah.” Dean’s voice had less of an edge. “This is my last year.”

Sam huffed out a quick breath. “I know. That’s why I can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything’s okay, when I know next Christmas, you’ll be dead.” The near-casualness Sam spoke about Dean’s almost-five-month-out deadline with made your breath catch in your throat. “I just can’t,” Sam finished, voice almost too quiet for you to hear.

The three of you went silent. To distract yourself from the heaviness in the room, you went back to typing on your laptop to find Madge Carrigan’s address and any information on her that suggested she really was your bad guy.

You could feel Dean staring at you, though, and you knew he needed you at that moment. So you shut your laptop and got into bed with him. He laid against your chest, and you kept your arms around him tightly. Soon, you drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

***

The next day, you and Dean headed to the Carrigan’s home. Sam stayed behind to research and see if you had missed anything in your search the night before. The house you arrived at was decorated with cutesy Christmas decorations and screamed the 1950s “American dream.”

“This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh?” Dean remarked, looking around. “Can’t you just feel the evil pagan vibe?” He rapped his knuckles against the door.

A blonde, middle-aged woman in a sweater opened it. “Yes?” she answered sweetly.

“Please tell me you’re the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths,” Dean said.

“Why, yes I am,” she smiled widely.

“Ha! Bingo.” Dean turned to you with a grin.

“We just moved into the neighborhood,” you lied, gesturing between yourself and Dean, “and we were mingling with the Sylars the other day. They had one of your beautiful wreaths on their fireplace. He and I were immediately in love with it.”

“You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?” Mrs. Carrigan’s smile had not lessened since she opened the front door; it was creeping you out.

“It is; it sure is,” you replied. “But the problem is that all your wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one.”

“Oh, fudge!” she pouted.

“You wouldn’t have another one that we could buy from you, would you?” Dean questioned.

“Oh, no, I’m afraid those were the only ones I had for this season.”

“Aww…” you whined, deflating.

“Tell me something, why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?” your partner asked.

A man who you assumed was Mr. Carrigan came down the staircase behind the woman as she answered, “Why, the smell, of course! I don’t think I’ve ever smelled anything finer.”

‘She… already said that,’ you thought, but you kept the smile plastered on your face.

“What's going on, honey?” Mr. Carrigan asked his wife. You noticed his outfit of choice was a cardigan and slacks, and he held an old-fashioned pipe. The two reminded you very much of “Leave it to Beaver.”

“Well, just this nice couple asking about my wreaths, dear.”

“Oh, the wreaths are fine,” Mr. Carrigan affirmed. “Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?” He held out a tin, and Dean took a piece.

You gave him a harsh glare, preventing him from raising the brittle to his lips. Politely, you bid the couple goodbye and kept Dean from snacking while he started to drive.

As soon as you got out of the line of the Carrigans’ sights, you took the peanut brittle and chucked it out of the window.

“What was that for? I’m hungry,” Dean whined.

“Evil pagans, Dean,” you reminded him. “I don’t want you to get magical food poisoning.” You kissed his cheek and sat back in your chair.

He considered for a moment but finally seemed to admit defeat when he hung his head, a small smile and a blush rising to his cheeks.

***

That night, you and the Winchesters headed back to the Carrigan’s home. “ ‘O Come All Ye Faithful” played from somewhere down the street, and the soft glow of Christmas lights on strings shining through the dark night almost made you feel like a child again; falling asleep in the back of your family’s station wagon while your mother hummed along to the Christmas tunes on the radio.

An evergreen stake was hidden in your jacket’s inside pocket; Bobby was becoming your favorite person with his seemingly endless amounts of contacts and information. Sam had informed you and his brother that the last place the Carrigans had lived, three people disappeared, too.

You followed Dean into the living room of the dark home after he picked the lock. He turned around and whispered, “See? Plastic.” He gestured to the couch and other furniture still covered in sheets of it.

You headed down the hallway where ornaments and snow globes rested on shelves on the wall. You made your way into the kitchen where Sam and Dean were looking at a lock on the basement door. Dean picked it, and you followed him down the stairs. You did your best to avoid making the stairs creak as you did so.

You shined your flashlight around and realized the basement was less of a storage room and more of Hannibal Lector’s playroom; a bowl of blood and bone sat at the end of a bloodstained wooden table just big enough to fit a human on that had shackles outfitted to each of its corners. You backed up along the wall, only to bump into something that moved. You yelped in surprise and wheeled around to see a leather bag wriggling around, as if a person was inside it.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on the back of your shirt, lifting you up, and you screamed.

“(Y/N)!” Dean yelled.

You wriggled and kicked with all your might, but Mr. Carrigan was too strong. He turned you around and held you to the wall by your throat, and you clawed at his hand to get away from him. However, slowly losing air, you were unsure whether the best strategy was to fight or to conserve your oxygen.

“Gosh, I wish you kids hadn’t come down here,” Madge smiled sweetly.

***

Slowly, your mind began to awaken. Your limbs and head felt heavy, and the light seeping in through your closed eyes felt painful. You blinked a few times, soon able to fully open your eyes and look around.

You jerked a little in your seat but soon realized your hands were bound to the chair. You turned your head to the left to see Dean tied up shoulders slumped, and on the right, Sam. You supposed the two boys were tied back to back and your chair was tied sort of in between the two. However, you couldn’t see anything going on behind you.

“Dean? You okay?” you asked frantically when you heard him groan.

“Yeah, I think so,” he grumbled.

“How ‘bout you, Sam?”

Sam just hummed in response. “So, I guess we’re dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God. Nice to know.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, breathing deeply.

You heard approaching footsteps coming from behind you.

“Ooh, and here we thought you two lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff,” you heard Madge giggle.

“Miss all this? Nah, we’re partiers,” Dean snarked.

You heard Mr. Carrigan take a puff from his pipe. “Isn’t he a kick in the pants, honey? You’re hunters, is what you are.”

“And you’re pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even, and go our separate ways?” the older brother suggested.

“What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us?” Madge laughed, voice still sugary sweet. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh?” Sam shot back.

“Oh now, don’t get all wet,” Mr. Carrigan scolded gently.

“Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that’s a fact.” You turned to the left to see Madge put a napkin on Dean’s lap. “Now what do we take?” She did the same to you. “What, two? Three?” And then did the same to Sam.

“Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew here make six.” Mr. Carrigan took another drag from his pipe. Funnily enough, you hadn’t seen him light the thing once yet.

“Now, that’s not so bad, is it?” Madge crooned.

“Well, you say it like that,” Dean sassed, “I guess you guys are the Cunninghams.”

“You, mister, better show us a little respect,” Madge instructed, and you could see her leaning down to try and intimidate Dean.

“Or what?” you remarked, trying to crane your neck around to look at the Carrigans. “You gonna eat us?”

“Not so fast,” Mr. Carrigan responded. “There’s rituals to be followed first.”

You turned to Madge, who looked excited. “Oh, we’re just sticklers for ritual.”

“And you know what kicks off the whole shebang?” Mr. Carrigan taunted, walking around in front of you.

“Let me guess.” The glare you delivered was challenging. “Meadowsweet.”

Mr. Carrigan nodded.

“Oh shucks,” you mockingly pouted, “you’re all out of wreaths. I guess we’ll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?”

“Oh, don’t be such a gloomy Gus.” You could hear Madge rustling around as she spoke. Suddenly, a wreath was put around your neck. You attempted to bite Mrs. Carrigan’s fingers to no avail, and she just tapped your nose in response. “There. Oh, don’t they just look darling?

Mr. Carrigan smacked his lips. “Good enough to eat. Alrighty-roo. Step number two.” You heard the sound of a knife being released from its sheath.

Sam started mumbling, “No, no—” to which you and Dean cried his name.

“D-Don’t!” Sam wailed.

“Leave him alone, you son of a bitch!” Dean shouted.

You struggled even harder against your binds.

“Hear how they talk to us?” Mr. Carrigan tsked. “To gods? Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions.”

Mr. Carrigan walked around to you holding the bowl, and you started to panic just a little.

“Times have changed!” Dean growled.

“Tell me about it. All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of a sudden, our– our altars are being burned down, and we’re being hunted down like common monsters.” Mr. Carrigan walked back behind what you assumed was the kitchen counter.

“But did we say a peep? Oh ho ho, no, no, no, we did not. Two millennia,” Madge continued for her husband. “We kept a low profile; we got jobs, a mortgage. Wh- What was that word, dear?”

“We assimilated.”

“Yeah, we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays.” The woman walked over to you holding the bowl with Sam’s blood in it. “We’re just like everybody else.”

“You’re not blending in as smooth as you think, lady,” Dean snarked. Madge ignored your partner’s comment. “This might pinch a bit, dear.” With that, she sliced into your arm deeply.

“F-Fuck!” you screamed.

“(Y/N)!” Dean yelled. “Get your hands off her!”

“Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing?” Madge waved the knife around in your face as you panted in pain. “ ‘Fudge’.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” you sassed.

“Oh, god, you son of a bitch!” Dean howled, and you assumed Madge had cut him up, too.

“Get away from him!” you yelled, creating brush burns on your arms from how hard you were pulling on your binds.

“You kids have no idea how lucky you are,” Mr. Carrigan said. “There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are.” He came to a stop in front of you holding a pair of pliers.

“What do you think you’re doing with those?” you asked, chest heaving in panic.

All he did was smile in response.

“You fudging touch her again, and I’ll fudging kill you!” Dean growled.

“Very good!” Madge praised just before you heard your love groan in pain again.

You had no time to focus on Dean because Mr. Carrigan grabbed your hand.

“No, no, don’t!” Sam begged from beside you.

“Get off me!” you cried, and your cry soon turned into a scream as the god painfully pulled your index fingernail off.

“Oh, we got a winner!” Mr. Carrigan exclaimed happily. He disappeared from your line of sight again, and you dropped your head back on your chair. Your finger and arm were throbbing, and you couldn’t help but cry.

“I swear to god, (Y/N), I’ll fucking kill them,” you heard Dean mutter through the white hot pain roaring in your ears.

“What else, dear?” Madge cooed.

“Well, let’s see. Uh, fingernails, blood. Oh! Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick,” the man laughed. “I forgot the tooth.”

“Oh, dear!”

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Dean said, out of breath.

You turned your head to see Madge and Mr. Carrigan advancing on Dean. The man held the pliers up and grabbed Dean’s chin harshly. “Open wide… and say, ‘Aah’.”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“Somebody gonna get that?” Dean asked around the tool in his mouth. “You should get that.”

“Come on,” Mr. Carrigan finally said.

You knew you had to act fast, and you started working the knife out of your sleeve as soon as the doors shut behind the Carrigans. Silently, all three of you got out of your binds. You hid with Dean behind one of the kitchen doors.

“Now, where were we?” you heard Madge say.

You pulled a drawer out to hold the door closed and trapped the Carrigans in the kitchen. Almost immediately, the couple was attempting to open them.

You made your way over to Sam at the other end of the kitchen and leaned on the door beside him.

“What do we do now? The evergreen stakes are in the basement!” Dean whispered.

“Well, we need more evergreen, Dean!” Sam replied.

You looked over at the tree in the corner of the living room. “Guys. Bingo.”

Dean smirked excitedly. “Sam, help me get this.” He had his brother assist him in moving the large cabinet next to the door in front of it.

While the boys worked, you pushed the Christmas tree over and broke three large branches off it. You tossed one to both boys who caught them with ease.

Gripping your stake tightly, you waited with bated breath as the house went silent. Suddenly, Mr. Carrigan tackled Dean to the ground. Madge grabbed your shoulder before you could help Dean and wheeled you around. “You little thing,” she chastised. “I loved that tree.”

You raised your stake, but she hit you hard and threw you back onto the plastic-covered couch. The woman stalked toward you, and you whacked her to the ground with the branches of your stake. You scrambled to your feet before she could recover and stabbed her through the chest with your stake.

“Madge!” Mr. Carrigan screamed just before Sam stabbed him with his own makeshift stake.

You moved to stand beside the two boys, chest heaving from the effort. “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals,” you breathed out at the dead bodies at your feet. The two boys huffed out labored laughs before Dean slung his arm around your shoulder and began leading you out of the house.

***

“How’d you keep Dean from finding this stuff?” Sam asked.

You pulled a few plastic bags out from under the bed you shared with the older Winchester. “He doesn’t look under here unless it’s for his shoes. I’ve been making sure they’re next to mine by the door every night,” you explained with a smile. You handed one of the bags to Sam. “It’s not much, but I found a crappy dollar store down the road. I was hoping you’d change your mind.”

Sam looked down sheepishly. “You do get why I was… hesitant, though, right?”

You stood up and nodded. “Absolutely, I do.”

He gave you a lopsided smile.

“C’mon,” you said. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

“What?”

You stooped to pull out the little plastic Christmas tree from under Sam’s bed and held it up with a wide grin.

***

Dean returned almost an hour later holding a six pack. “What’s all this?” he asked, almost in a sort of daze as he looked around the decorated room.

You continued to busy yourself with making eggnog while the brothers talked.

“What do you think it is? It’s– it’s Christmas,” Sam replied.

You walked over to Sam with a cup of your concoction.

“What made you change your mind?” Dean asked him.

“Oh, thanks,” Sam told you without answering his brother.

“Lemme know if it needs more of a kick,” you said.

Sam took a swig and coughed. “Nope, all good.”

“Yeah?” you grinned.

Sam nodded and smiled.

Dean came up behind you and slipped an arm around your waist, his hand landing just above your ass. He smirked down at you and took the other cup of eggnog from your left hand. He gulped almost half of it down, unfazed by the strong whiskey taste.

“Well, uh, have a seat. Let’s do… Christmas stuff, or whatever,” Sam awkwardly said.

You sat beside Dean on the couch next to the small Christmas tree decorated with car air fresheners. Sam pulled up a chair across from you.

“All right, first things first,” Dean nodded, and you handed him the two packages he’d wrapped shoddily in brown paper bags. “Merry Christmas, Sam.” Dean handed him one of the two bags.

Sam smiled widely. “Where’d you get these?”

“Someplace special,” Dean smirked. At Sam’s deadpan expression, Dean continued, “The gas mart down the street. Open them up.”

“Well, great minds think alike, Dean.” Sam brought out two packages wrapped in newspaper. He gave the first to Dean.

“Really?” Dean asked, eyes shining with surprise.

You left Dean’s arms momentarily to reach under the couch and brought out two packages daintily wrapped in brown paper. You handed one to each of the boys, and they handed their gifts to you. “You didn’t have to get me anything, guys,” you said.

“Yeah, we did. Shuddup,” Dean remarked, smirking.

You relaxed back against him while Sam opened his gift from Dean. “Skin mags!” he laughed. “And shaving cream.”

“You like?” Dean questioned.

Sam smiled and nodded. He then opened the gift from you. “Oh, no way!” He held up the Staind cassette tapes you’d gotten for him to add to Dean’s collection for long drives; especially for when Dean was gone.

You grinned widely as he admired the tapes. “Okay, Dee, your turn,” you told him.

He chuckled and unwrapped Sam’s gift to him. “Look at this! Fuel for me and fuel for my baby.” He held up a candy bar and a bottle of oil, and you laughed. “These are awesome,” the older brother said. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Okay, now mine,” you beamed.

“Oh, holy shit,” Dean breathed out while he opened the Bowie knife you’d gotten engraved for him. On the hilt of the blade were his initials, and the handle was engraved to look just like the side of his prized Taurus pistol. “Jesus, (Y/N), this is—” he couldn’t seem to find the words, instead opting to place a long kiss on the side of your forehead.

At last, you opened yours. Sam gave you the second book in a series you’d been reading on Greek myths, for which you were eternally grateful, but Dean’s gift truly floored you.

“Where’d you get this?” you asked, fingering the small beaded bracelet Dean had given you.

“Off some kid in the lobby,” he smirked.

Tears filled your eyes at how close of attention he paid to you and your stories.

“There’s something else in there, too.”

You looked up to Dean with complete admiration before rummaging around in the bag once more. You pulled out a ripped piece of paper from the notepad at a motel you’d recently stayed at with the words, “Redeem on Dean’s expiration date.” You looked up to him in confusion.

“It’s, uh, for this,” Dean revealed, thumbing the amulet around his neck. “I want you to have it.”

You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He returned your fierce embrace, pulling you impossibly closer across his lap.

“Merry Christmas, Deano,” you whispered into his shoulder.

Dean pulled away from you and kissed your forehead. He then held his eggnog up to cheers you and Sam. “Merry Christmas, guys.”

The three of you sat in silence sipping your drinks before Sam broke the quiet.

He looked quite sad as he began, “Hey, Dean, y—” but Sam cut himself off, sighing and shaking his head. “Do you feel like watching the game?” he finally asked.

Dean grinned in relief. “Absolutely.”

You clicked on the television before settling into Dean’s side. He lazily thumbed your hip and sighed in content. Sam turned his chair to face the television.

***

Later that night, long after Dean and Sam had gone to bed, you were still wide awake. Snow had begun softly falling outside the motel room window, and the moonlight reflected off the white blanket over the Impala beautifully. Wrapped in a blanket, you made your way over to your duffel bag. You hadn’t taken the bracelet that Dean gave you off, and you were still holding the piece of paper to “redeem” when Dean was gone.

You took your wallet out and slipped the piece of paper into the see-through pocket where your ID sat, and there it would stay until this was all over.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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steddiehyperfixation · 2 months ago

Text

wishful thinking

@steddie-spooktober day 12: graveyard | 1,058 words | T | canon compliant

“Hey, Eddie. Sorry Dustin couldn’t be here, you’re stuck with me today,” Steve says as he crouches down in front of Eddie’s gravestone. “Hope that’s alright.”

Dustin usually comes by about once a week to clean the hate speech off, but he’s on vacation with his family right now, so Steve took it on himself to take up the mantle this week. It’s covered in slurs this time, angry red spray paint scrawled over a headstone that wishfully asserts that Eddie is ‘finally at peace.’ Bullshit, that. The graffiti and the headstone. How can he be at peace when all those witch-hunting dickheads are still stomping all over his grave? “I guess we don’t really give you much peace either though,” Steve muses aloud. “The kids visit you so much. Your uncle too. Kind of crazy - for all the hate you got, you were loved just as much too. Don’t know if that makes you feel better or anything.”

He sighs, dunking a rag in a bucket of soapy water and beginning to scrub the paint off the gravestone. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, it’s not like you can hear me, wherever you are,” he says, though he still continues to talk regardless. It gives him something to do while he works. “I know Dustin talks to you a lot too. He says when he does he almost feels like you’re actually here, like you’re listening to him, sitting with him. He says that he imagines you responding to him, swears up and down that sometimes he really does hear you answering. But I know it’s just his imagination, wishful thinking. I think he knows that too. He just misses you. You dying really hit him hard, you know.”

For all the years of crazy Upside-Down shit they’ve been through, Dustin had never lost someone so close to him before. It hardened something in him, left a hollow behind his eyes and an anger and cynicism in them that hadn’t been there before. Steve worries about that kid now more than ever.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not really there, that you can’t see the way he’s changed,” he tells Eddie’s grave. “I think it would just depress you. It depresses me. But, I don’t know, sometimes when he talks about how he thinks he can feel your presence here some of that old hope and light returns to his eyes. So maybe it’d actually be better if you really were still hanging around, if it’s not just in his imagination.”

He shrugs. “And maybe you are. Who knows, the world we live in these days. It’d make sense, I guess, that your spirit or whatever might come back down here for Dustin. You guys had that, like, nerd bond. Not for me though.” He huffs out a dry laugh and re-wets his cleaning rag. “Either way, I’m still just an idiot talking to myself in a graveyard. There’s no reason you’d come here for me. It’s not like we were really friends. We barely knew each other, we just went through the week from hell together and then you died.”

He frowns as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn line of graffiti and he falls briefly quiet, chewing at his lip. His silence is more pensive than focused, old thoughts now swirled up to the surface in his mind.

“I think we could’ve been, though,” he says after a moment, “friends, I mean. If I’d’ve gotten the chance to know you better. If we’d had more time. We- maybe we could’ve even-” Steve falters, unable to speak aloud what he’s really thinking, not while he’s scraping off slurs that might be hurled at him next if anyone heard. He can’t say that that moment in the stolen camper van when Eddie leaned into his space and called him ‘big boy’ had made something strange and new slither in his stomach and warm his blood. He can’t say how he wishes they could’ve gotten the chance to explore that, all the things it made him wonder about. Instead he settles on, “I think I could’ve learned a lot from you…”

If Steve really wanted to torture himself he’d give into his imagination, picture Eddie standing beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder and replying We could’ve, like he knows everything Steve’s not saying and feels the same. Steve can practically feel the touch, hear his voice, could just about convince himself of it if he was enough of a masochist to. He has to glance at his shoulder, has to put his own hand there just to check for sure, to remind himself that there’s no one there. It’s just wishful thinking. He shakes his head and returns his attention to the headstone.

His throat feels tight. “You shouldn’t have died, man,” he mutters. “You just shouldn’t have. I told you- I told you 'don't try to be cute or be a hero,’ didn't I? But you did it anyways. You did anyways and now look at you. Being dead isn't cute, Eddie, it just isn't.”

Steve's voice cracks, eyes stinging. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids. He needs to pull himself together. He didn't come here to bare his soul to a chunk of stone for some guy he honestly didn't really know. What ifs don't mean shit to the dead; it's only the living they haunt. It’s only himself who’s here to hear it.

“Well,” he exhales heavily, swallowing down his emotion. He scrubs off the last remaining paint from the stone and sits back on his heels. “At least your grave is all shiny and clean now. That’s something, right? You’re welcome, by the way. My work here is done.” Collecting his cleaning supplies, he gets to his feet, hesitating for a second. Silly as it sounds, he feels like he should say some sort of goodbye before he heads off, like it would be rude not to. “I’ll, uh-” He pats the top of the gravestone, only a little awkwardly. “I’ll see you around, Munson.”

As he turns to leave, Steve could almost swear this time he really does hear Eddie’s voice, a whispery echo following him from the graveyard. See ya, Stevie. Don't be a stranger.

#what do you think is eddie actually there as a ghost or is it just in steve's head?#completely up to your interpretation #steddiespooktober #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #mine

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dragonridernoobie · 9 months ago

Note

Sorry for requesting again:,)

But sadly, I am a simp for giant robots😔

I have come to ask for transformers prime: Optimus, Shockwave, and Soundwave headcanons for when their s/o accidentally(definitely on accident…) attempts to fight a child while with them(they are in their holoforms of,) cause ‘it looked at me funny’

I have no reasoning for this idea other than it being the middle of the night and ideas!

Sincerely, your transformers obsessed fan

P.S. Who’s your favorite tfp character?:3 mines shockwave

My favorite transformer is wheeljack, since he reminds me of a cool uncle. Transformer fans stick together, so no worries. Also, sorry it took a minute, had to do something called a job. Hope you enjoy!!!!

TFP X Reader who wants to beat up child

OPTIMUS

When optimus and (Y/N) were at a cafe since they saw it when they drove pass and it looked interesting.

While they waited in line, (Y/N) feels somone kick the back of their leg.

It dident hurt since they where in a haloform.

When they turned around, they see a little kid.

(It looked like the kid from shrek. Here is the kidvvv)

(Y/N) tried to be nice and asked them not to kick them.

The kid just kicks them again.

(Y/N) was about to snap and push the kid over Intel optimus hold their shoulder.

Optimus told them to not do that.

And that autobots don't harm humans

When optimsu turns around to order, (Y/N) trips the kid when it walks by.

Optimus gives (Y/N) a glare but sighs.

Shockwave

Shockwave and (Y/N) where at the movie theater.

(Y/N) had to beg on their hands and knees to get Shockwave to come with them to a place that wasn't the lab or throne room.

While Shockwave and (Y/N) wait in line, (Y/N) sees a child cut infront of them

(Y/N) grabs their collar and pulls them behind them.

(This is the kid btw vvv)

(Y/N) and the child actually start to have a yelling match.

Shockwave grabs their shoulder and talks to (Y/N).

Shockwave: "it's a child."

The kid then turns to Shockwave and yells at him

Kid: "and you're an ugly prickly bitch!"

Shockwave just stairs at the kid and turns to (Y/N)

Shockwave: "2 minutes, I will get a portal ready."

Let's say the day wasn't ruined 😈😈😈

Soundwave

Soundwave and (Y/N) where at the arcade.

(Y/N) knows Soundwave will not like anything to Physical so gaming systems then it is.

While Soundwave and (Y/N) wait online for a game called halo, a kid looks over to them.

Kid: "this place not for adults."

(Y/N) tell the kid to shut up, but they soon get into an argument

(Kid btw vvv)

Spon the Kid challenges both of you to a match.

Before (Y/N) van respawn, Soundwave puts their hand on their shoulder and shakes their head.

Soundwave then points at the kid and then himself.

Challging the kid to a 1v1.

When it was his turn, he put his hands on the toy gun, but (Y/N) sees him using his haloform to glitch out the game.

Soundwave won, 34-1.

The kid cried and ran to his mother.

(Y/N) enjoyed the day, so did Soundwave.

Random Picture

Loaf

#soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader #optimus x reader #tfp soundwave #tfp shockwave #tfp optimus prime #transformers tfp #transformers prime #optimus prime x reader #shockwave tfp x reader #soundwave tfp x reader #tfp #transformers

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justlemmeadoreyou · 1 year ago

Note

love, love, love your work.

could you maybe write a piece where it's harry that's a bit insecure because the reader wants to keep their relationship very private and not tell people about it?

and i love love love you!! thank you for reading my work and sending this request! ❤️

Insecure

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: kissing, fluff, a bit of dirty talk

my masterlist! | ask box

"Just 10 more minutes, please, H?" you pouted, snaking your arms tightly around his chest, to try and keep him in bed. Unfortunately, he had an interview to go to.

"Y/n, baby, you know I have to leave soon. And I haven't even taken a bath."

"So leave without taking a bath. You smell so good anyways" you slid up and kissed his pecs, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"That's it. I'm getting out." he gently picked up your arms and kept it on the bedding beneath, and quickly jumped off the bed.

"Nooo" you whined, and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Okay. If I hadn't gotten out, you would've found another way to make me stay." He bent over and picked up his clothes, strewn across the floor from the night before.

"Nice ass" you remarked, making one last attempt at making him stay.

"Not gonna work" he replied, and finally picking up his clothes. He made his way to the bathroom, and closed the door.

You sighed, and slumped back on the bed, pulling the blanket to cover your body, you closed your eyes, waiting for him to come back.

He came back about half an hour later, and you'd already fallen back to sleep. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he slowly made his way over to your sleeping form, and climbed on the bed. He leaned over, and shook his wet hair over your face.

The tiny water droplets showered on your face, and you immediately pushed him away, and he fell on the bed. He started to laugh hysterically, holding his stomach.

"Not funny" you said, wiping off the water. Giving him an angry look, you turned to the other side.

"Hey, I was just playing."

"Sure you were"

"So listen, how about we go to dinner after I come back? You be ready and I'll pick you up?"

"Oh…"

"Think about it, text me before 4. We'll go to that fancy italian place y’like.”

“But-there'll be paparazzi, right?”

“Yeah. Obviously” he chuckled “So?”

“I don’t know, Harry, it’s just–I don’t want people to know yet, like, officially.”

He frowned, his heart sinking a bit.”But there's already pictures of us outside the gym from last week-and that actually means something, right? And, we both wear promise rings. One close up and they’ll figure it out” he said, pulling up his pants he had laid out the night before.

“Yeah, but that’s kinda–different? I don't know. Going to gym together dosen’t really do what going to dinner together does. Please, Harry?”

“Mmm, okay.” he buttoned up his shirt, and pulled on a loose cardigan, and went into the closet to choose footwear.

“So, that would mean I have to say I’m single when they ask me that today?”

You thought, and felt a bit sad. You wanted to go to the tallest building in the world and yell, “I’m dating Harry Styles, bitches!”. But, you couldn’t. At least, not yet.

“Yes?” you murmured, hoping Harry would hear. You also hoped he wouldn’t be sad, or feel bad.

“Yeah, alright.” He walked out wearing white vans, that complemented his blue jeans.

“How do I look?”

“Great” you replied.

“Quick, give me a hug and a kiss before I leave” he walked to the corner of the bed, while you peeled yourself off, and walked on your knees to the edge, the blanket still draped over your body.

He leaned down and kissed you, and you snaked his arms around his neck. He pulled away quickly, and put your back down. He smiled, turning back and waving at you as he left.

As soon as he got out of the room, his sile turned into a frown. He sighed, as the guilt and sadness took over him. Why did you not want anyone to know? Like, both of your friends knew, and people would find out eventually, but still.

Why?

He respected your decision, and would never go against it. He wouldn’t tell people till you were ready. But, what if you won’t be ready? Ever?

Taking his shades and keys, he left the house.

. . .

The interview went great, as he had expected. Better, actually. Whenever he was asked a question about a significant other, he brushed it off charmingly, and thankfully, they didn’t ask any more nosy or follow up questions. He loved interviewers like that.

On his drive back to his shared home with his “girlfriend”, his mind was clouded with thoughts. Why did you not want anyone to know? Were you ashamed? Did you not want your family to know, so they wouldn’t judge you? Maybe your parents didn’t approve you dating a famous person? Maybe you didn’t want to be seen with him like that? Was he that bad?

These things, and some much worse clouded his mind, against his better judgement. Harry wasn’t perfect per-se, but he tried. He knew he could be a bit too much at times, but he worked on that.

Turning over to the last turn towards your house, he took deep breaths, and wiped a few tears off his cheek with the back of his cardigan. He stayed in the car for a few minutes, to let the rednes in his eyes and sadness on his face fade away.

Walking up the path to the main door, he didn’t want to go inside. If you didn’t want to be seen with him, why were you even with him in the first place?

He rung the doorbell, and felt the patter of feet of you making your way to the dor. The door clicked open, and then there you were, with a the soft, glowy face and a lovely smile, holding a spatula. he took a step in, and leaned in to kiss you. You held his neck with the other hand and kissed him back. He snuck an arm around your waist, as the other one closed the door shut behind him.

The kiss wan’t just a quick peck, and you wanted more. Your hand travelled up from his neck to his hair, gently tugging at it. Harry released a filthy moan into your hot mouth, and that was it for both of you. You dropped the spatula on the floor and held onto his shoulders, as he gripped your hips and lifted your up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, he made his way to your bedroom.

“You smell so fucking good” you said, peppering kisses over his cheek. Travelling down to his neck, where you bit his earlobe and kissed his neck. Harry was getting impatient, and he quickly jogged the last few steps, finally reaching your bedroom.

He went straight to your shared bed, throwing you into the centre. You fell with a soft thud, your hair bouncing and framing your little face perfectly. He climbed on the bed too, hovering over your body. Your lips intertwined again, but this time, it was hot tongues and moans into each other's mouths.

Harry wrapped his hand around your throat, and pushed you down. His tongue made its way into your mouth, tasting you. You moaned, as his tongue glided with yours. You had been impatient since the morning, and he was finally giving you what you wanted,

His hand travelled down, pulling the loose string of your sweats. You lifted your hips up, and he slid them off your legs, throwing them away. He was still so much fully dressed, and you wanted to get him naked. Touch his chest and pepper kisses all over it.

You pushed him off to the side, and quickly climbed on him, perching your hips on his waist. You could see his jeans thickening, and you pulled off the cardigan, throwing it on the bed.

Harry wanted to do this. To have sex with you. Eat you out. But, his mind wasn’t letting him. He still kept thinking everything he was while driving, and if he didn’t talk to you about it soon, he would go mad.

He grabbed your wrists when you tried to unbutton his shirt. He sat up, holding your waist so you wouldn’t topple over. Your eyes widened at the sudden halt, and you gave him a confused look.

“H-what–?”

“Can we talk?”

“Right now?” you saw the look on his face. He looked desperate, and…sad. “Okay. What happened? Tell me.” you held his hand in yours, gently kissing his knuckles.

“It’s just–I keep thinking about why you-you don’t want to tell everyone we are dating. It’s driving me mad. Is it me? Am I not worth telling everybody? Is there something wrong with me?”

Your heart broke into a million pieces when he said that. He looked so sad and broken, because of you.

“What? No! Jesus! Harry, why would you even think tha?”

“I’m sorry. This-nobody has ever asked me to keep our relationship a secret and I–I can’t just stomach it. I need to know why?”

“Hey, don’t apologise. Alright? It’s not your fault. “

“Then why?”

“Ok. Here it goes. The reason why I don’t want to tell everyone yet is because-It’s probably stupid.” you slumped, now feeling embarrassed at your reason for all this.

“No, it’s not. Tell me.”

“It’s me. I just think that I can’t compare to anyone–literally anyone you’ve dated before, and it makes me really sad. And when everyone–your fans, your family–they find out, they will think low of me, and that you are probably doing me a favour by dating me. And I know it’s hella stupid, but I am not ready for all the judgement and comments and paps and–”

“Hey! It’s okay. Don’t panic. And I get you, okay. Dating someone like me can be a bit…overwhelming? at times. I am so used to everything that I just don’t realise that you could feel burdened by everthing. And I know how my fans can get sometimes. I love them, more than anything in the world. It’s just–they get defensive and often judge-y of the person I date.”

“I know! And I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about yourself.”

“No, it’s okay. I just wished you could’ve talked to me about it sooner. And hey, don’t ever feel like you’re not enough. There’s a reason why I’m not dating anyone else but you. I love you and I want to be with you. And don’t worry about my family. They are great people. They don’t judge the people I date. They are really, really good people.” he lifted your hands with his, kissing your hand and knuckles, like you had kissed his.

Your eyes were wide, and your mouth fell open. It was the first time he had said I love you.

“What–happened?” he asked, a bit concerned.

“You–you love me?” you replied, eyes welling up with tears.

Now, his face mirrored yours.

“I–I don’t-I didn’t–You don’t have to say it back.”

“Of course I do. I love you too, H.” a tear rolled down your eyes, and you quickly got up and kissed him.

He kissed you back, wiping the tear off your cheek.

“I love you so much. So, so much.” you told him, kissing both his cheeks.

“I love you too, baby. And we don’t have to tell people if you don’t want to. We will, whenever you are ready.”

“Thank you. You are the best. I don’t deserve you” you turned, sitting down on his lap.

“Sure you do. Now, what are we eating tonight? I’m hungry.”

“I made pasta. The spatula—I threw it on the door” you laughed, and he started to laugh with you.

“God.” he shook his head, and you looked up at him.

“C’mon, get up. I need to freshen up.”

“But this–” you looked down between your thighs, where your panties had soaked through from your activities earlier.

“What? Oh! My baby got wet, didn’t she?” you nodded, looking at him with doe eyes, hoping he’ll do something.

“Well, you’ll have to wait till after dinner. Then, I’ll carry you back here like I did before. Lay you down sweetly on the bed. Then spread those pretty thighs of yours, and eat your pretty pussy out. Till you’re begging me to stop. The, I’ll fuck you, and make you look into my eyes, while I tell you how perfect you are. And I that I love you, every time you come around my cock.”

You pressed your thighs together, while he described everything he was going to do to you.

“You’re not helping”

“Wasn’t planning on, love”

. . .

might do a part 2!! 😚

if you like it, please like and reblog!! any feedback is much, much appreciated!!

taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrlrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry

let me know if you wanna be added or removed!!!

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hyun3hk3y · 3 months ago

Text

Symbolism in "Portrait of Lady Edelgard Von Hresvelg"

This is something that I’ve usually never really felt comfortable doing. If you ever wonder why some artists are a bit more reluctant to actually *talk* about the “meaning” of their work, its because it strikes the same tenor as having to explain why a joke is funny. If I have to actually lay it out for the viewer why certain decisions were made in the execution of a work of art, the magic of the whole experience may be lost. Moreover, many artists avoid making definitive statements on their work because they do not wish to deprive viewers the opportunity to derive their own unique explanation.

While I chiefly view myself as a fine artist, most of my artistic training was as an illustrator. As an artist, this can lead to an interesting dichotomy when it comes to creating paintings. During my studies, I was told that the job of an illustrator is to solve pictorial problems for people often by making pictures that tell a story or convey an idea. Fine art’s definition, in contrast, tends to be more nebulous. But I digress, on to the painting…

A number of people on reddit and Tumblr have remarked on the candle with the snuffed-out flame. No interpretations on it have been offered, the mere presence of a candle with a smoldering wick is a strong enough implication. However, this is one instance where I drew inspiration from art history so I believe it is worth elaborating on. The animus for the candle originates in the Arnolfini Portrait by Jan Van Eyck. Below is an image of the painting with the pertinent candle circled.

Art history scholars have a number of different readings about the candle’s presence, but the one I was taught in Art History is that the lit candle indicates the presence of the holy ghost or the watchful eye of God. Three Houses draws from a number of religions for its world building, in the case of The Church of Serios, the developers took the majority of their cues from The Catholic Church. If a lit candle would suggest Edelgard’s faith in the Goddess, then an extinguished one must imply Edelgard’s *loss* of faith.

In addition to the extinguished candle, I would also like to direct viewers to the reflection of the candle in the polished wood table surface. In the reflection the candle is still burning very brightly, almost down to the base of the candelabra.

The purpose of this image is to recall a saying from old Taoism Philosophy in China: “The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long.” Those who are familiar with Edelgard’s back story in Three Houses will find its relevance obvious. I doubt I am the only one to make the allusion.

This brings me to the next major piece of symbolism I employed in the painting, the dagger and the drapery on the table. The dagger’s significance should go without saying, but its application as a device will become more apparent after I explain the table cloth. To put it succinctly, the majority of the dark shadow shapes made by the tablecloth are arranged to evoke the shape of the crest of flames. Below is another visual to help illuminate this detail.

The immediate implication here is the detail of Edelgard possessing the crest of flames. As for why I decided to depict it in a more concealed way…When I first got the idea for this painting, the whole concept was that if a person saw this painting in a gallery, they would be looking at an actual artifact from Fodlan, one that created by an artist who actually lived there. This is why the second row of the inscription reads “In the Imperial Year” on the left side and “1179” on the right. This means the painting would have been completed just before Edelgard starts attending Gareg Mach, and long before the greater public would know she has the crest of flames. How the artist came to know this would remain a mystery. I like to imagine it as a detail that Fodlan’s historians would debate over for years after the game’s narrative.

There is also a second message that I have intended with the dagger’s placement cutting (heh) across the crest…Gripping the dagger over the crest of flames is a statement about what the path is that Edelgard will take, especially when the crest is examined as representing the Goddess Sothis. In fact, there are two (technically three) lines of dialogue from Three Houses I had in mind for this symbolism.

That about sums it up! I may do a couple more posts in the future where I show how the painting evolved from thumbnails, to studies to the finished image if theres interest in that sort of thing.

#oil on panel #oil painting #artists on tumblr #edelgard von hresvelg #fe3h #fe3h fanart #fire emblem #fire emblem fanart #fire emblem three houses #black eagles #crimson flower #portrait painting #figurative painting #realism #fe3h edelgard #fe three houses #fe16 fanart #fe16

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ebongawk · 8 months ago

Text

The party had dialed past a ten on the insanity scale, like, two, maybe two-and-a-half hours ago.

Eddie probably should've dipped out well before then. Shit, he was normally gone with the wind once he sold out, but something about this party had him sticking around a few extra minutes that had, in the blink of an eye, transformed into a few extra hours.

Maybe it was the feeling of the last hurrah. The final graduation party of the season at Andy Doucheface's house before everyone fucked off to campus tours and early move-ins or whatever-the-fuck university freshman did.

Or maybe it was because, as soon as no one was paying attention, Eddie'd started siphoning spare beer and snacks and digging through the belongings of The Parents Doucheface.

(Maybe he'd pocketed a couple of super nice tools to ninja slip into Wayne's toolbox at a later time and also a framed picture day photo of Andy from elementary school that he was gonna toss in the lake in an effort to devastate the people who'd raised such a Doucheface. Who could say?)

He'd already loaded his provisions into the van. Literally only came back to make a final circuit for any spare, unopened handles of liquor – he didn't want jock cooties, ew – when he found it.

The Holy Grail of a party of this caliber.

Spray paint.

Eddie looked around, but he was definitely alone in the garage. And the jockstraps inside were raging, music gradually getting louder and still hard to hear over the shouting of drunk voices. With a gleeful, maybe slightly maniacal giggle, Eddie grabbed the paint - red, his lucky day - and got to work creating a masterpiece on the interior walls of the garage.

Lost in the artistic haze of poorly rendered dick and balls jizzing onto Andy's face, Eddie didn't hear the uptick in commotion outside the garage. He was finishing up the first "s" in "ass" (as in, "Jason Carver loves eating hairy ass") when the garage door suddenly burst open.

Now, listen. Eddie's fight-or-flight is pretty fucking reactive, and he tends to automatically lean toward fight. He has, of course, relied on flight to get out of many a pickle, but generally his fists were out before his feet were moving.

So, when that door hit the wall with a loud bang!, Eddie had his lighter in hand and the spray paint up in a half-second, just about ready to burn the hair off whatever drunk asshole was coming to start shit.

But the drunk asshole squeaked, ducking down beneath where a fireball would've been if Eddie hadn't caught himself.

Because it wasn't, in fact, a drunk asshole.

It was Chrissy Goddamn Cunningham.

And she really did not look drunk at all.

Oh, be still, his cynical, stupid fucking heart. Why the hell did it skip a beat?

He'd heard, through the endlessly riveting rumor mill churned out by the ridiculous Hawkins grapevine, that she'd finally kicked ol' Carver to the curb once they'd walked the stage. But he hadn't actually run into her at one of these stupid ass parties all fucking summer. He'd been hoping for, like, one chance encounter before he took off for Chicago, but alas.

The stars were not shining on Eddie Munson the past couple months.

But maybe now.

"Well, shit," Eddie said as the door she'd come through swung shut. "You stumbled upon my lair, Cunningham. Sorry for, uh, almost flame-throwing you."

Her eyes, which had been wide with fear when she walked through the door - valid, considering the circumstances of her entrance - blinked as she took in Eddie's handiwork.

"Oh," she breathed, reading Eddie's crass statements he'd semi-permanently stamped onto the walls. Her eyes going from Andy's Dick Sundae to Carver's Ass-Eating Preferences as her cheeks split with a smile. "Oh, gosh, Eddie, what--? Gosh, that's so funny."

No fucking way she was building up his ego while he publicly ragged on her ex.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at his twin masterpieces. Relishing in her grin with a shit-eating one of his own. Taking the opportunity to finish spelling out 'ass' on the drywall "I, uh, take commissions, you know. Something pretty to hang in your dorm room."

"Not something about Jason eating ass?"

"Only if you ask nicely."

God damn it. That made her giggle. Eddie was going insane.

"I wish I had my camera," Chrissy sighed, stormy eyes bright as she reread Eddie's dig at Carver. "Andy's parents are just going to make him paint over this. It won't be memorialized."

"Should I make a pit stop at the 7-11 billboard on my way home? Let the town know what Jockstrap McGee and his Pearl Necklace Sidekick plan on getting up to in college?"

Chrissy blinked at him, tilting her head to one side.

"Pearl necklace?"

Suddenly, back in the house, the sound of glass shattering resounded down the hallway just before someone yelled, "Scatter!" and Chrissy's eyes widened again.

"Oh, shoot! We gotta go!"

"Wha--?"

But she was already grabbing his hand and hitting the door to open the garage. But, instead of waiting for the door to come up, she yanked open the side door and pushed him through. Fingers firmly clasped, Chrissy took off, dragging a very confused Eddie behind her as she sprinted around the side of the house and bypassed the gate to run into the neighbor's yard.

"Cops!" she whisper-yelled at him as they ducked through a grove of trees. Eddie chanced a glance back, barking out a laugh that was maybe a little too loud when he saw the flashing red and blue lights.

"Fuckin' knew that was gonna happen," he whispered back, pulling her to a stop where they were hidden behind some bushes. A metric fuckload of kids were spilling out of the house, many too drunk to run properly. Chance fucking rammed into McKinney, who fell to the ground and immediately started barfing all that alcohol out of his system.

A couple of piggies suddenly rushed through the open garage door, looking left and right for the culprits that had used to escape. Eddie could barely see them, tucked away as they were and from a less than stellar vantage point, but suddenly Chrissy's opening it made sense when the two cops took off running in the opposite direction.

"Excellent method of distraction, Cunningham," Eddie murmured, barely discernible over the shouting. "You run from cops a lot?"

Beside him, Chrissy shrugged.

"I watch a lot of horror movies," she responded, shuffling a little so they were crouched closer together. So he could hear her, he assumed, but holy shit she was close enough that he was gonna spontaneously combust. "Whenever the heroine has an opportunity to distract and doesn't, I always get so mad!"

"Are you the heroine in this story?"

"Saved you, didn't I?"

Oh. Oh damn. She had jokes. And that sly look in her eye, tongue tucked between her teeth as she bit back a giggle.

She was gonna kill him, and he'd thank her.

"You know, I held onto this," Eddie said, holding up the can of paint he hadn't thought to pitch. "We could, uh. We could make a trip to the 7-11 billboard together, if you want."

She fucking sparkled in the moonlight when she looked at him. Some airy disbelief written across her features that Eddie could not possibly comprehend. Shouldn't he be the skeptical one here?

"I may or may not have snuck some shit off Andy's property, though." Eddie grinned. "You ain't gonna tattle on me, are you, sweetness?"

"Not if you got the good stuff," Chrissy answered with a shrug just as Hopper and Callahan burst through the front door, various drunk kids in tow. "Where are you parked?"

Eddie nodded around the corner before taking the chance of a goddamn lifetime. Reaching down, he took her hand with his again, holding his breath to see what she'd do.

If she'd drop it.

He should've inhaled, because the moment she laced their fingers together, he forgot he needed air altogether.

"Alright," he said, fucking breathless. Squeezing her fingers, he looked at her for a long moment. A moment where she met his gaze head on, some awed determination set there that he wanted to know fucking everything about. Looking back at the house, he watched the cops as they paraded drunk teenagers onto the porch. "Ready?"

Chrissy, beside him, in the weirdest goddamn event of his life, nodded resolutely.

"Let's run, baby."

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #my writing #hellcheer blurb #Chrissy Cunningham #vandalism #alcohol mention #cw alcohol

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

Note

Literally love you, hope you're taking requests! Could you do the bayverse boys with a goth stoner?

Smoke Sesh

TMNT x Fem Goth Stoner Reader

Summary: After ditching class for a smoke break, you're approached by two men with bad intentions. The TMNTs help you escape the alleyway you're cornered in, you guys have a smoke sesh in their van.

Word Count: 1.0k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was second period and the monotone voice of your English teacher was putting everyone to sleep. Even the teacher wasn’t into it, just reading aloud from the book while sitting at her desk. Not even bothering to look up as she did so. You picked up your bag before quietly walking out of the classroom. As long as you were quiet, the teacher didn’t care or notice if anyone left. There were a couple of security guards that you had to pass, you would feed them an excuse about going to the nurse’s office and usually, they bought it. As you walk past the front gates of your school, you pull your black cardigan closer to your body. You didn’t realize it was so cold outside, your nose was becoming sensitive and runny. Stopping in a narrow alleyway between two apartment buildings, you rummage through your bag.

Your older sister woke up late for work this morning and was only able to take a couple of puffs out of the blunt she rolled before leaving. You took advantage of this and hastily threw it in your bag before leaving. Luckily it wasn’t bent or damaged to the point of being unsmokeable. After you finally find the lighter you put it into your blunt and take the first drag. It was like you could feel the weed pushing the anxiety out of your body. The rain was getting heavy but it didn’t bother you one bit. Not only were you being kept dry from a fire escape above you, on colder days, but your make-up also lasted much longer because it wasn’t exposed to extreme heat. You were wearing a long black maxi skirt and a thin long-sleeve, both in black; along with black riot boots. Not being able to resist, you take a couple of pictures.

“I bet those pictures came real nice,” a voice growled from the left of you. You jumped and whipped your body to see who spoke. Feeling your heart drop into your stomach, you slowly start to back up; trying to gain as much space between each other.

“Oh, my dad is actually about to pick me up, I have to go,” you lied as you began to walk away, you were walking backward because you were scared to turn your back to him.

“So soon, I’m sure you can be a little late,” the creep said, starting to charge you. As he did so you turned but were stopped by a truck that broke directly in front of you.

“Get in,” one of the passengers said as the sliding door rolled open. You didn’t even look at who was in the vehicle, you were so desperate to get out of the current situation that you didn’t think twice. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down but it was hard considering the severity of what could have happened. After a few moments and tears, you looked up and realized who was in your company. When you saw the turtles you passed out momentarily. When you came to, one of them was fanning you. You immediately sat up but Donnie asked you to calm down.

“Woah woah, don’t sit up too fast. You had a vasovagal response which means you lost consciousness due to a lack of blood flow to the brain. You are totally okay though and your vitals are normal. Did anything happen in the alleyway that might cause you to need medical attention?” Donnie said, lifting his goggles up so you could see his eyes.

“No, I’m just shaken up a bit,” you said, sitting up on a seat in the back of the van.

“I’m sure, glad everything turned out okay,” Donnie said.

“Yeah because you’re way too hot to die,” Mikey said, plopping down next to you.

“Mike! Sorry, he has impulse control issues,” Raph said as he drove.

“Dude! Don’t say that in front of my new hot, spooky, witch girlfriend,” he whispered, blocking your view of his mouth in an attempt to stop you from seeing what he said.

“Is it okay if I smoke in here,” you asked? The van got quiet, the boys looking around at each other without saying anything.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Leo said.

“I don’t know, she just went through a traumatic thing. If she’s used to smoking then maybe she needs it to help her calm down, you know?” Mikey said.

“What about contact high?” Raph asked.

“Technically the effects would not be significant unless she was blowing the smoke directly in your face or the car filled with a dense enough smoke,” Donnie explained.

“So is that a yes?” you asked, putting the blunt into your mouth and waiting for a response before lighting it.

After nobody disagreed you lit it again and took a drag, you laughed when you noticed that they were all looking at you. They looked away for a second but it didn’t take long before all their eyes were on you again. At this point Raph parked the van and opened the windows. You were making subtle conversation, asking them if they ever smoked before. As expected, they all haven’t and were surprised when you offered them the blunt. Mikey went to grab it without hesitation and Leo stopped him. After a little persuasion, Mikey grabbed it and took a drag. The blunt in your hand was still pretty big but in his hand it looked like a tiny little twig. He immediately started coughing which made his brothers look around in a worried way. The effects were immediate and he started laughing and joking more than usual if that’s possible. This hummored his brothers, lightening the mood of the situation.

“I just want to thank you guys again for saving me from that situation,” you said again, putting out the roach.

“No worries girl, I'd always be there for my goth girlfriend,” Mikey said, wrapping his arm around you.

“I appreciated that,” you joked back, giving him a kiss on his cheek; leaving a black lipstick mark.

#fanfic request #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt x reader #tmnt request #short fanfic #bayverse tmnt

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sturniololuv08 · 11 days ago

Text

Gas Station Girl (Chapter 1)

Inspo- The Twitch stream where Chris and Matt get asked about their “types” in the chat. Matt doesn’t give a direct answer.

DISCLAIMER: I have a friend (ViV) we'll call her. She wrote this but is too afraid to post it so we made a deal. If I post it and it gets some decent numbers she will make a tumblr and start post herself! I have full permission to post on her behalf. This is Matt x POC story. She ONLY writes for POC main girls <3 (The only things I edited were the header, coloring the names, and I took out a few ' because there were too many characters for the post.) Dividers by @strnilolover

Chris: Yo Matt, what was your deal last night? I get not wanting to say your type while we were streaming. But I’m your bro you can still tell me!

Matt rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond.

Nick: Yeah I’ve actually been kinda curious too. We all know Chris’s type. So c’mon Matt describe your ideal woman.

Matt: No. It’s way too early in the morning for this and it doesn’t matter anyway.

Matthew grabs his keys and the three of them walk out to the car together. They stop to get gas on their way to their destination. The pump that Matt pulls up to ends up having a 'Please see cashier for payment' sign. He sighs. Of course that’s why every other pump is taken Matt thinks to himself. He reluctantly heads in without mentioning it to his brothers. Chris and Nick are still sitting in the van scrolling on their phones.

When Chris realizes Matt is going inside the gas station he texts him: Please grab me a Pepsi and honey bbq Fritos if they have them.

Matt doesn’t notice the buzz in his pocket at all because as he’s walking toward the checkout counter his eyes lock with the most captivating woman he’s ever seen. Immediately he hears his brothers voices in the back of his mind… Ideal woman. He’d never actually imagined who his picture-perfect girl could be. That's why he never really had an answer before, but now he did because she was standing right there in front of him. Before he knew it Matt and this unfathomable woman are the same distance from the counter. She gestures and says, “Go ahead I think you were here first.”

Even her voice is beautiful he thinks and can’t stop himself from smiling. “No no lady’s first!” Matt says back.

“Thank you, but I’m actually still trying to decide what snack I want" There was a pause, “Sick RANSOM Tee by the way.” She says with a smile looking at his chest.

“Thank you.” He responds . Damn she’s hot and has a good fashion sense he concludes.

Matt moves up to the counter and pays for his gas, racking his brain for a reason to not have to walk away from this gorgeous woman that he's worried he might never see again. Unable to find a reason to stay, he finishes the transaction and walks back out to the mini van. It’s a nice day in LA. Chris and Nick moved to be leaning on the van waiting for Matt.

Nick: Did something funny happen in there?

Matt: What?

Nick: Why the hell are you smiling like that for?

Matt shakes his head, still unable to wipe the smile from his face.

Matt: You guys are always on me for having too much “attitude” but even if I’m in a good mood you have something to say?

Chris and Nick (In unison): Yeahhh

Nick: This isn’t regular “good mood Matt” this is something else. I can tell.

Matt: No, it’s not. It’s nothing Nick.

Nick: (With a curious grin) Rrrreally?!

Chris: (Slightly annoyed) Cool. So you’re in an abnormally good mood and Im starving. Is there a reason you didn’t get my chips or drink?

Matt rolls his eyes and shakes his head at the same time.

Matt: So now I’m just supposed to magically know you wanted something?

Chris: I TEXTED YOU!

Chris throws his hands up in the air

Matt: Oh, sorry I didn’t see it.

Before Chris can dispute they’re interrupted by the chime that sounds as the gas station door opens and closes.

Nick: "Is she the reason you didn’t see Chris’s text?" He says slightly under his breath. Matt adjusts his posture. The three of them silently watch as she steps outside and begins walking towards the now empty parking lot, Matt’s cheeks flush instantly.

Chris: Chuckles while nudging Matt’s arm “You good Matt?

Matt: Yeah. I’m fine Chris. It’s just hot out here.

Chris: Raises his brows. "Well if I had a Pepsi I’d offer you a sip to cool you down you seem… thirsty."

Her car is parked at the pump directly across from them.

Matt: Lets get this show on the road.

He was slyly trying to rush his brothers into the car before one of them could say something embarrassing.

Chris: WHAT? We’re leaving?

Nick: Did you not eat today?

Chris: Chris whines, "I’ve only had one mini pizza this morning."

Nick: You’ll be fine, Madison will have food at her house."

The girl had already finished pumping her gas but seemed to be lingering, listening to their conversation. Matt pulls out of the parking lot to start toward Madison’s. The girl from the gas station is in the car right behind them. Matt glances in his rear view mirror and can tell she’s vibing to music. It’s completely involuntary when he starts to daydream about what kind of music she’s into. Chris notices Matt repeatedly looking back.

Chris: "Ha, what if gas station shawty was following us?" He jokes.

Nick: Nick gasps loudly. "CHRIS. DONT SAY STUFF LIKE THAT!"

Nick whips around to look out the back window. Chris shrugs

Chris: It's not my fault, Matt probably said something to her.

Matt makes a right turn and so does the car behind them.

Chris: I'm just sayin, we turned- she turned

Nick: Yeah but we've only been driving for like 30 seconds it's probably just coincidence.

They continue driving and the car behind them goes every direction they do for about 10 min.

Nick: MAAAATT What did you do?!

Matt's daydream bubble is burst by the sound of Nicks raised voice.

Matt: I didn't do anything Nick.

Nick: Well we're only one minute from Madison's house and we can't just lead her straight there.

Completely flustered Matt abruptly pulls over to the curb and parks. The girl who was behind them gives their van a puzzled look as she passes. The windows are tinted dark so they can see her but she can't see them.

Nick: That was so bizarre…

They wait a few minutes until the tension in the car dissolves and it seems like the coast is clear. Matt's jaw is clenched but he takes a deep breath and slowly resumes driving. Moments later when they pull into Madison's Drive way the same car as before is there too.

Chris: Shit what'd we do?

She's still sitting in her car but she's on the phone and hasn't look up to noticed them yet. Trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Matt speaks up.

Matt: "Well she's on her phone maybe she's lost?"

Nick: "She's not lost Matt. She followed us for miles and she beat us here." Nick FaceTimes Madison.

Nick: Madison I am so sorry but we might have somehow lead a fan right to your house.

Madison: What do you mean?

Nick: There's a stranger in your driveway and I dont know if you're going to need to call the cops

Madison: Seriously? A stranger? They're standing there?

Nick: No she's just sitting in her car like a fucking freak.

Madison: Wait what kind of car? Nevermind I'm coming down.

Nick: Shouldn't you call s-

Nick stops mid sentence as soon as he realizes Madison has already hung up. Madison appears at her front gate and much to the triplets surprise she doesn't seem concerned at all she seems excited. Madison runs over to the girls car and tugs at the driver side door. It doesn't open on the first try. The triplets watch as the girl steps out and Madison throws her arms around her and starts jumping up and down. Both girls are beaming with joy. Madison waves to the guys and gestures for them to get out of the van. They exchanged glances then hesitantly unbuckle and get out.

Madison: Guys! This is my bestfriend I've been telling you about!

Nick: Puts both hands on his heart. "Oh Thank God!"

The triplets all take a sign of relief as Madison turns to face her friend.

Madison: They just thought you were a crazed fan that was trying to follow them here." She says suppressing a laugh.

Chris: We were getting worried because she had been following us since the gas station.

Girl: "I wasn't meaning to follow you, looks like we just had the same destination." She says sweetly

Madison: This is Nick. Matt and Chris, my triplet friends I told you about.

G: Hi, I'm Giana but you can call me G!

She says but only holds eye contact with Matthew while introducing herself.

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x POC #inclusive poc #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #Writer ViV #black women #black girl with Matthew sturniolo #matt with black women #poc x matthew sturniolo #gas station girl #gas station girl by ViV #gas station

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idv-sunsxin3 · 11 months ago

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Horropedia // Hubby Headcanons

Note// I really got this idea from the moment I watched the corpse bride movie/ih. There are two kinds of marriage hcs,,, like real marriage and 'marriage', you know lol

I was about to post this before- until my friend beat me up to it...;;; so it got delayed weeks later. Her headcanons are pretty good tho! <333

___

// 'Official Marriage' HCs //

This kind of love story is... strange, in a good way at least.

Life with him is pretty much like a slow burn bonding from acquaintances, to companions, to friends, to lovers... And to spouses.

Horropedia views marriage as something far from dating or being engaged... it's a big step, being a boyfriend can be counted as a commitment if he contributes to the relationship as well, fiancé likewise but waiting for something even bigger to be executed.

But marriage... being a husband is supposed to be a sealed agreement and having commitment, intimacy, and passion between two people. He wonders if you both can ever will confirm if your love for each other is consummate. He is aware very few people achieved this. As others tend to get through struggles and even get through divorce.

Horropedia would cherish his time a lot to enjoy every bit of his moments with you, and he lets you take your time to move onto the next level with him.

I like to imagine that the engagement proposal just technically is during a pretty random timing-

Like something similar from a spy x family scene. While you and Horropedia were getting chased by the killer at a masquerade ballroom, he suddenly proposed to you in the lounge room you were hiding in. Using the ring of a stunt grenade before throwing it towards the killer that entered, along with the trap that was already set by him. Obliterating them in the process.;;😭

Idk, is just my scenario idea. Something more dramatic would most likely happen because of him. You know how he tends to bend the logic of physics with his gun many, MANY times before--

Of course, he has a real engagement ring! He just decided to keep it in his room, just in case something happens. His proposal may be sudden, but it was probably the only moment where he feels sure that he wants to go through the thrills and obstacles. Even if it's with you.

I feel like Horropedia would confess after like, 4-6 years of dating. Bonus if you guys were ever high school sweethearts before...- that concept would be so cute.

I swear, Horropedia is a bit uneasy about Honeymoons- he feels overwhelmed by the idea even if it just means some kind of quality time together but more ✨️extra✨️. but you later convince him that you both can just go on horror myth explorations as your honeymoon so he quickly went very passionate about that lol;;;;

At this point your whole marriage life has buzzfeed unsolved vibes throughout your scrapbooks.

Your wedding ceremony is actually quicker than a normal one- you just both took pictures and have some cake before going straight out for the horror by rented van or something dnfnfnn---

It's funny to imagine that things haven’t changed since the time you both started dating- As if your relationship has been always been this young and pretty carefree... It just feels like you're still dating but now you are using the spouse titles, a wedding album of your honeymoon adventure, a ring on your finger, and marriage papers-

Okay, some things are added, but doesn’t mean things have changed lol.

I feel like Horropedia is the type to rarely wear his ring- I mean, he would sweat bullets if he ever loses it!!! Not that it's expensive, but because losing things have always being something he gets nervous about,,, especially stuff that match with you and they are objects that remind him of you. So he either wears it like a necklace or keeps it stored in a bag or a cabinet at times.

Being married is a thing, sometimes living together may be another. I imagine scenarios either it takes a few weeks for one of you to move in to the other’s place or you both already lived in the same house when you were dating hhh-

Horropedia is not normal with relationships, he is aware of that. So the steps of intimacy may be seen as something you wouldn't expect and probably far from what you would usually imagine in a married life.

He is an easy-paced guy while being surprisingly faithful as if your whole marriage is part of his lifetime hyperfixation in some ways. He is pretty lowkey about it too during work, like he is not bashful when talking about you if his coworkers ever ask about you. Yet, doesn't mean he'll just spoil everything about you. He lowkey likes to keep you for himself before any proper introductions with the certain people at work- So at times, he just gives them the grin or changest the topic with another horror anecdotes session before they ask more questions abour his married life. /ih

He doesn't seem to be the type to mind if his spouse is not a great cook. He either just finds it okay if you both cook some decent food or order takeout-

Having a vegan spouse can be also challenging to him at first, but he can handle eating veggies once in a while for the budget-

Not pretty? Look at him, he is not even a star idol from a magazine! He already fell in love with your dreamy eyes and your smile, enough to lure him in and get him wrapped around your finger. A "beautiful monstrosity." As he would probably describe you./j <333

Not smart? I mean, he is a nerd. He pays attention to geometry, then he likes doing the math himself. He probably would tend to tease you for not knowing how to do the counting while calculating the taxes and bills... /ih

No matter what or where, there will be always someone who at some point would ask you two when will you have little ones running around the household-

If you’re perfect? You're perfect. He cherishes every second of your company,,, and that's enough for him.

...

"Oh...?" (^-^;

To be fair, Horropedia doesn't seem to like the idea at first. I mean, to fix the words- He's just, still considering... is not like there is much rush to do that. He tends to have his doubts too. Especially if that means there is the opportunity his future kids encounter those creepy twins that were used to be his next door neighbors....- that's the last thing he wants that to happen.

"I. Isn't that too soon??? I-I'm sure there is more we can do together other than worrying about our future kid's tuition...--"

I'm sure that time may come when Horropedia feels that he is that ready to have a family with you...- Is just, not in this stage of life I suppose;;;😅🥺

____

// On an established relationship, yet calling wife/husband as a silly nickname //

While there are no firm rules, I consider established relationship in my dictionary as a "dating after at least 6 months" kind of stage. So it would be interesting to imagine how Horropedia would feel if the titles of spouses are used intentionally as a joke once the bond notably seems to be pretty close and intimate enough to be casual about it.

Staying indoors is one of the ideal ways to go on a date for you two,,, horror movies while wearing cozy pjs, going through the recaps while sharing his armchair are one of the best parts of you spending time together.

At first, he felt weird when he hears you calling him your "husband" even if it was in a playful intent. It felt foreign, but it didn't feel wrong in his opinion either.

It took a while to get used to it as he also took time to hear it often. Becoming more aware of being called by cheesy, and sometimes affectionate nicknames since you started dating.

"Nerdipedia", "Dorkopedia", "Bob", "Silly Pants", "Babyboy";;;

Gosh, don't even mention about "Joshie"! He starts to blush hundreds of shades of red. Lucky there are times you both weren't in a huge crowd. Otherwise he'll die in the spot...;;;/j

But after that, he probably can't stop staring at you like the dork he is, whenever you address him as something more through your phone calls with a friend--;;;

"So,,, yes, Sonetto- I'm with my husband right now."

"..." (...what-)

"Yes, he is right next to me, holding My hand as we're watching the FNAF movie-"

"....?" (Huh- but I'm right next to y- I'm the one holding your hand, hello???)

"Mmm... Yes, any problem with that? Well, Matilda. Respect my love of my life when he's supposedly your co-worker- okay? Things will run smooth that way if you and Horropedia wouldn't act this stubborn;;;"."

"....!!!!" (I'M???? THEY'RE REFERRING TO ME OMG...)

"Alright, see you later- gotta resume the movie-"

"..." (I love this human-)

He really tried to pretend he was still watching the movie but failed because his eyes were trembling, fingers fidgeting, and you could notice his cheeks radiating with a blush as his lips are trembling. Fighting back this huge grin;;; lol...-

Over time, he would slowly get used to it to the point he'll call you wifey/hubby in return, you both being sillies and all;;;

Horropedia probably didn't catch the domestic vibes crossing on his mind earlier, he didn't even pay a single mind about what the others say whenever they see you two bickering like a married couple too!

Of course, the moment he was put in a position, that's when his mind was completely blown.

Where peace was residing for a bit, you guys were just chilling on the living room during a day off. Him reading a horror novel wearing his funny slippers and all on the couch while you're napping, using his lap as a pillow.

The second he took a glance of your sleeping face, he slowly notices how strangely cozy this seems- a very domestic one....

'...Oh sh*t.'

That's it, I dare you to try and change my mind- but it will never be the same without Horropedia proposing you as a joke with a ringpop...

I guess like a boyfriend/girlfriend proposal. All with the planning and silly braining, for the memes!!!/lh

If Discord exists for him, he might even suggest if you two can get married on Discord using the wedding bot;;; 💀 Oh god.

Overall, a silly Horropedia liking the fact being called "hubby" is good in my heart. Hehe <33

#horropedia x reader #horropedia #r1999 horropedia #r1999 x reader #r1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 x reader

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instantcaramel · 1 year ago

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A month ago I went to Amsterdam and visited all the filming locations for Ted Lasso‘s „Sunflowers“, so I figured I‘ll finally put something together here.

First of all, basically all the scenes involving the majority of the Richmond himbos were not shot on location - their epic discussion followed by pillow fight was filmed in an abandoned hotel in London. (Info per David Elsendoorn). The same would go for Ted & Beard‘s room. Scenes on the bus or outside it were also filmed in Richmond.

The only Greyhound who doesn‘t have his own larger plotline in the episode who was actually in Amsterdam was David Elsendoorn, because they did film the first scenes at Johan Cruijff (you know how to pronounce it now!) ArenA, the home of Ajax Amsterdam (which is also the one place I didn‘t have time to visit). They could have easily filmed that in London in a different stadium but I guess they didn‘t want to pass up the opportunity - and give David something to do on his home turf.

Edit: I visited 3 months later, so here‘s some pics from the ArenA, I couldn‘t find out which hallway they used/dressed up for the press interviews, but here‘s some shots from the stadium and the VIP lounge we see at the beginning.

So, first up is Roy & Jamie‘s adventure: Jamie takes him sightseeing against his will, and the first place they stop on is Magere Brug (Skinny Bridge). (They run up the street to that before.)

Edit thanks to @warriorhoneybee: Roy grabs Jamie’s wrist at Diamond Factory on Rokin and then tells him he can‘t ride a bike outside Lyppens Jeweler at Langebruugsteg.

They go around the corner to Oude Turfmarkt (which is what I took a picture of) for Jamie to teach him how. For Grandad!!!

The fucking windmill they see before they lovingly gaze into each other’s eyes is De Riekermolen at the Southern end of Amstelpark, where they also cycle. (It‘s actually realistic for them to do that, it would be about half an hour between those locations by bike).

Rebecca doesn‘t see the obvious bike lane (that doesn‘t actually exist there) and falls into the gracht at Raamgracht. Boaty McBoatface‘s houseboat is still there, they just had it dressed up a bit with plants and such when they filmed. (Unclear if anyone currently lives there). The interiors were shot in a studio.

Trent follows Colin to Prik night club (which was absolutely buzzing when I was there, I really want to go back).

And then they sit at the Homomonument, the Pink Triangle memorial at Westerkerk, having that tearjerker of a conversation, before returning to party. (It walked that distance at night, it‘s a beautiful stroll and less than 10 minutes). When I visited someone had left sunflowers. 🌻

Leslie & Will first go to Hotel Prins Hendrik in the Red Light district (and steps away from Amsterdam main station) where Chet Baker died. They then make their way to Jazz Café Alto, which is just down the road from where Boom Chicago used to be on Leidseplein. (It‘s about 30 mins on foot between those two locations so they could have walked or just taken the tram for a few stops. The interiors were done at a studio though).

Ted of course visits the studio-filmed fictional themed restaurant where he has a BBQ sauce induced, Corey Burton-narrated epiphany about triangles, but first he sees Vincent‘s „Sunflowers“ at Van Gogh Museum during Museumnacht (which btw would mean the episode is set first weekend of November). As you can tell they moved some things around, so at least currently the painting isn‘t hung on that beautiful blue wall anymore.

As a bonus, here is a picture of where Boom Chicago used to be when Jason Sudeikis, Brendan Hunt and Joe Kelly performed there - Brendan also used to live above the McDonald‘s on Leidseplein just steps away for a while. And the other picture is the current Boom Chicago on Rozengracht, definitely go enjoy a show there if you can.

Anyway thus concludeth my trip around Ted Lasso‘s Amsterdam. I visited for the Boom Chicago Comedy Festival and fell in love with the city, it was … magical / gezellig. I will never forget it, but then again, some people get Alzheimer’s.

#ted lasso #filming locations #amsterdam #boom chicago #jason sudeikis #brendan hunt #david elsendoorn #ted lasso cast #brett goldstein #phil dunster #hannah waddingham #matteo van der grijn #rebecca welton #roy kent #jamie tartt #leslie higgins #will kitman #charlie hiscock #jan maas

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thebunnyslibrary · 1 year ago

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In The Woods Somewhere

summary. You go into the woods to take some photos...but find him instead

characters. Vampire!Bucky x Reader

word count. 4.8k

warnings. Dub!Con, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm-ish, mentions of violence/blood.

BunBun's Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Finally, your big break. You were finally getting the chance to publish a collection of your photos of haunted locations around New England with a real publishing company. Your final location was an abandoned church in the woods; thought to have been used by an early group of colonizers until it and the nearby settlement had been abandoned. No one knew for sure what had happened. Perhaps the colonizers had moved on? Maybe they were wiped out by plague? There was even a dark story of a minister who had started murdering villagers that were “unclean;” allegedly filling the church pews with corpses with slashed and bloody necks. Doing research on places before you took photos was one of your favorite parts; gathering information for the captions and essays you wrote to go with the photos.

After your parents had died while you were in college, it had left you feeling empty and directionless for some time. Then, after finally finishing your degree, you decided to use the money your parents had left you to buy a van and photograph the world.

You’d been working as a traveling photographer for a while now, doing gigs like weddings and events. You’d also managed to self-publish a few books and tried to sell your photos and art where you could. It wasn’t much but it kept you in gas money and beef jerky. You’d been all over North America and a few parts of South America. You were hoping to go international for a follow up book if this one was a success.

You pulled up to the walking trail that led into the forest. You had about an hour’s hike into the woods; knowing getting the shots at sunset would create perfect photos. You shrugged on your backpack with your supplies and with your camera case hand, headed off. The trees were washed in the golden hue of fall, starting to shed their leaves in preparation for their long winter sleep. A slight chill hung in the air but after 3 months of heat and humidity you were ready to be cold for a little bit.

Sometimes you listened to music when you hiked but today you’d decided to relish in the sounds of the forest.. Bird calls echoing off the trees, the rustling of the trail as you walked, squirrels and other small critters gathering their own winter supplies. A flock of geese calling out as they flew in v formation overhead and you quickly snapped a picture. Traveling and photography had given you an entirely deeper appreciation for nature and it’s beauty. An hour later, you stepped into the clearing where the church was set.

It was a small chapel, probably only fit to hold 10 or 15 people. Most of the eastern wall had crumbled while the others were still partially there. Only one or two (maybe one and a half) benches were left; but you weren’t too sure about actually sitting on them. Still completely intact though, was the Archway that must’ve bene the entrance. Above it, was a bell; likely used to let the nearby colonizers know that church was starting. But on the bell was an inscription that could no longer be read. The language appeared to be Latin, but the words had been lost to time. You were raising your camera to take a picture, when a soft voice startled you

“Hi.” You turned suddenly and you were staring into crystal blue eyes. You jumped back but kept your eyes fixated on his. A man, maybe a little older than you had been standing right behind you.

“Oh! Uh…hi!” you said, blinking and taking more of him in now. Dressed in a black jacket over a fitting gray tee-shirt, dark jeans clinging to his legs, and silver rings adorned most of his fingers on his right hand. His left hand was hidden by a leather glove. His hair was pulled back in a man bun and a single ruby on a black chain hung from his left ear.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was just coming up the trail and I called out to you.” His voice was soft, with a hint of an eastern European accent, making a slight shiver go through you.

“Sorry, I suppose I didn’t hear you.”

“No worries, I’m James. But my friends call me Bucky” He reached out his hand for yours, taking it and telling him your own name. “I’m surprised to see someone else this far out in the woods.

“I’m here to take pictures.” You explained. “It’s a beautiful structure…what’s left of it anyways.”

“How interesting.” He said. “Are you a professional?”

“Well, sort of. I’m actually just finishing my first collection to be published. ‘New England’s Haunts and Its Future.’ I’m including the church with a piece on New England puritanism and its effects on today’s bigotries.”

He smirked. “I like it. I’ll have to make sure I order a copy of your book.” You both laughed. “You know the old England had some haunts too. All of Europe, in fact. Plenty of old spooky castles. You should definitely see them.”

“If my book goes well maybe.”

“Have you ever had your work in a gallery?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I’ve had my art displayed in some cafes here and there, but not much else.”

“Pity, you seem passionate about your work, it must be nice.”

“I’d call it nice, maybe good.” You beamed. “I’d actually like to get a few shots in, if you don’t mind. I can talk a little while I work though.” There was something about him. He unnerved you, if only slightly. But you also didn’t want him to leave. You wanted him to stay with you.

The two of you walked through the archway to stand on the overgrown stone floor, flowers and dandelions peeking through the cracks. As you walked up what used to be aisle and could almost make out where the other pews had been. Maybe it was the sunset, maybe It was your imagination, but along the floor, the stones seemed eerily stained red.

Again, Bucky’s closeness startled you, but this time, you seemed frozen to the floor.

“You know, darling. There’s one thing I’d love. Could you take a picture of me under the archway? It would make for a great dating profile picture.” He winked at you. And you felt your face warm up.

“Sure, why not.” You focused your camera on him and his eyes seemed to flash red at you. You gasped before snapping the button, but only cursed and brushed it off as red eye-syndrome. You took one more picture and this time, it seemed normal. You pulled it away and waited as the picture loaded. Your book would hopefully lead to some newer equipment. Bucky stood behind you suddenly, but again you were frozen to place; only this time with his chest firmly against his back.

As the picture loaded on the screen, your stomach dropped. The picture was empty. the archway was still in there. But Bucky wasn’t.

You turned around and his smile was downright predatory. Revealing two pearly white fangs. But his eyes, they were bright crimson red.

“That’s…. those can’t be real…your eyes, your teeth…” you said, feeling your heart drop into your stomach

“Oh, my darling. They are ALL too real…little girls like you should know better than to go out after sunset.” You should be running, fighting back, anything. But you can’t. You’re staring into his deep red eyes and you can’t move. “No, printsessa. I can’t have you running away. Not when you smell so delightful.” His arms wrapped slowly around your waist, pulling you closer to you. “Not to mention how beautiful you are. You are exactly what I’ve been searching for.” He whispered in your ear. Before you could blink, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and the world went dark.

You awoke in a soft bed, softer than anything you’d felt before. A bed, but you’d been… Oh fuck… You shot upright quickly as you remembered what happened. What greeted you was a dimly lit room. A wall of immense windows letting the moonlight stream in while a fire roared in the fireplace. Low lamp light gave let you see to see immense bookshelves lining the rest of walls. You started to panic. That freak had knocked you out, now you were in some cabin somewhere. You were still wearing the same clothes, but you had no clue where you were.

“My my, finally awake. I suppose I did drink a bit more than necessary. But I just couldn’t help myself. You were just absolutely delicious.” You looked and saw Bucky. He’d been sitting by the fire until he stood up and moved towards the bed. You could see he was wearing black t-shirt and sweatpants, but what you hadn’t seen before…was his metal arm. His hand had been covered by the glove, but now you could see the moonlight glinting off it. You caught yourself staring and remembered what had happened last time you’d stared at him.

“What did you do to me you sicko?” You lowered your eyes to the floor, trying to move out of the bed without tripping. You heard him chuckle.

“What’s wrong baby doll, you don’t wanna to look at me? “

“No! I just wanna go home. Please.” You tried to be strong but you were trembling as you tried to keep your eyes low enough. You desperately searched for anything sharp or heavy, settling on the lamp and reaching to pick it up, but before you could, you found yourself pinned face down on the bed, your arms trapped behind you. You struggled against him, but he hardly moved. His voice in your ear.

“Poor little bunny. You know what really happened. Or do you need a reminder?” You felt something scrape against your neck. Fangs.

“That’s…. you’re not…”

“Oh, but I am doll. And I don’t think I’ve found anything I’ve ever wanted more in my centuries of living.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Your trembling is so adorable baby girl. It makes me want to ravage you until you cry for me.” His hand wandered down to your jeans and your breathing turned shallow. There was an ache deep between your thighs that wanted to call out for him, but you were still scared of what he’d done.

“No, I won’t have my beloved scared of my touch.” He said, gently pressing a kiss to your neck before moving to help you stand up. Your legs were much wobblier and you found yourself leaning against him. You stared at his chest and quietly spoke. “Bucky, please. Where are we?”

“We’re at my cabin. I’d like to show you around; as this is to be your home too. If you promise to behave.” Deep down, you still felt petrified. But an inner voice said that if he had already wanted you dead, you would be. Besides, you hadn’t noticed before, but something about his smell was so enticing to you. Cinnamon and smoke, with a slight…metallic underlay.

“If…If I go with you willingly…will YOU keep it that way?” you asked, trying to sound firm. You could hear the amusement in his voice.

“I see my little bunny can stand her ground. No, I will not control you that way like before.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head to look at him. His hair was still pulled back into a loose bun, moonlight casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones led down into full lips. And those eyes. You would never forget the deep red color before he drank from you. Now instead they were crystal pools. As unending as the sky. Like you could stare forever. But you blinked away, acknowledging he had kept his promise. You moved away from him and instead toward the windows.

“If you are…a vampire…why the windows? I thought you were supposed to avoid natural light.” He chuckled. And walked a normal pace now to stand next to you as you both stared out into the forest.

“Any creature can be exposed to too much sun. We just have much a lower tolerance limit. I have heavy black out curtains for the day…but I cannot find it in myself to give up this view.” He pointed up towards the stars. You didn’t think you’d ever seen so many. But a rumble of thunder off in the distance caught your attention you saw flashes of lightning. A storm was moving in soon, and you could feel your resolve to escape crumble slightly. Where could you go in a storm?

“How exactly…did you become…?” you asked, hesitantly, not wanting to upset him and trying to focus on anything other than his closeness. You’d always thought trying to…humanize…your enemy so to speak was supposed to help keep you safe. He smiled.

“A vampire…Well, I would imagine you know how.” He chuckled and you found yourself chucking as well. “Where Romania is now, I was a simple farmer. Goats mostly. Then one night, a creature attacked our village.” He paused. “Killed my sister. I tried to fight back, and something about that… He changed me instead of killing me. Figured it was some cruel punishment, killing everyone I knew and loved and leaving me alone.” You felt your heart tug. As if sensing your sadness, he turned and shook his head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I got my revenge. Afterwards I stayed low, kept to myself for a few centuries. Until the world erupted into war. I refused to keep to myself. That’s how I lost my arm. When the Germans found out what I was; they tried to use my powers to make more. They took my arm to see if they could clone me. Then they gave me this one and tried to turn us into a weapon of war. Only their plans backfired. They couldn’t control them. They eventually all killed each other…at least the ones I didn’t kill first.” He was quiet for a moment and you almost started to panic. But he let out a sigh.

“After the war, I settled here. Made my home, invested some wise money, now I have a little peace.” He turned to you. You felt your heart ache for him. “But I have waited so long for something so enticing as you.” He started to move closer, but you still were nervous, taking a step back.

“Wait uhm... I thought you wanted to show me around.” You reminded him, trying to distract him. He smiled and let out a deep sigh.

“I suppose I did. Well, you’ve seen the bedroom and its extensive library. But there’s an even bigger one downstairs. Come.” He took your hand with his metal one and led you towards the door. You felt less scared following him now; you still could feel yourself wanting to resist and struggle. But he was holding your hand too tightly.

As the two of you toured through the large Tudor cabin (mansion, it seemed), you took note of the art on the walls. Beautiful photographs of places around the world; paintings you wanted to stare at for hours; Bucky having to pull you away from a particularly intriguing work from the Harlem Renaissance. The two of you talked. Bucky had been to many of the places you hoped to go. And some of the ones you’d already been to. It was nice to find someone like yourself, a wanderer.

“I suppose after my parents died; I just felt a little lost.” You told him “I didn’t have a big family, no siblings, so I just decided to be free. It’d at least be nice to have a home base someday though.” You mused.

“I can understand. I’ve actually lived on this land for some years, even before what happened to me. It’s actually owned by an Indigenous tribe. I bought it outright around the 1800s when the government tried to push them out, then gave it back to them. I only asked they let me build a small cabin on the outer edges.” Your jaw dropped. “But…do they know…?” You asked, still having trouble believing it for yourself. He paused and smiled.

“In my lengthy time, you meet many people who believe many different things. I’ve learned to appreciate many human cultures, and to always show respect where it is deserved. And not to tolerate those who would degrade it.” He said, then kept leading you on, with you following a little bit closer. You two walked into a room you definitely didn’t expect to find. A Kitchen.

“It was easier to build than to ever explain why there wasn’t one. Plus, I have a supplier who steals blood from some hoity toity government hospital and I need somewhere to keep it cold. You’d be surprised at the amount of blood they keep on reserve for those rich old bastards.” He rolled his eyes and you managed a genuine laugh. “I don’t know I would.” He smiled at you before continuing out of the room, with you following almost eagerly behind. The tour led down one last hallway to a set of double doors.

“Now my favorite room. My private study.” He opened the doors. A library that could’ve easily fit 10 of your vans with celling high bookshelves stretched before your eyes. A cozy looking couch sat across from either one of the 2 fire places on opposite walls, and a huge bay window revealed the storm had truly arrived. Gone was the moon, here were flashes of lightening and roars of thunder. In front of the windows sat a big mahogany desk. You strode over to the desk, to see out the window and there on his desk was a stack of all of your books. As you looked back towards him you could see on the walls, one of your photographs.

It was one you’d camped out and waited all night for in the woods. But you’d caught them, a pack of wolves running through the woods under a moonlit sky.

“I saw it in a little café in Boston and had to have it. I’ve been following you for quite some time. Literally.” He chuckled. “I became enraptured with you. Your pictures moved me. How you always seemed to capture both the joyful and the macabre sides of humanity. That’s why I had to get your book published. So, I bought the publishing company to make it happen” You turned to him in disbelief.

“Bucky, you…you didn’t…you couldn’t have…”

“Oh, but yes I did, doll. It’s what you’ve wanted, what you’ve desired.” His voice dropped. He licked his lips and moved closer to you. “And now, my little bunny rabbit. It’s time to take what I have desired for so long.” He grabbed your hand and tugged you back towards the desk, using his strength to lift you up and pin you down on your back, minding your head.

His confession, his obsession, even with his charming personality, you felt fear flaring up inside you anyways. “Wait please…” you pleaded, pressing your hand against his chest.

“No more waiting printsessa. It’s time. I need to satisfy my thirst. And my lust. And I cannot resist the sound of your pulse screaming out for me.” He paused, pressing his hips more against yours. You wanted to resist, wanted to push harder against him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you wanted to bring him closer.

“No…you gave your word…” you begged, desperately.

“I did. And I’ve kept that word. I did nothing to control you. I just failed to mention that my natural state is to lure you in. Until you’re caught like a fly in my web and you don’t even realize it.” He purred, trailing kisses down your cheek. “You’re in my home, surrounded by me, breathing me in until slowly and slowly your defenses have lowered, until you don’t even have the strength to push me away.”

He was right. You had wanted to resist him but you’d felt it crumbling more and more. Like the walls of that stone church. You were gripping his shirt not to push him away, but wanting to pull him close. Handsome, intelligent, alluring. Your thighs clenched with want.

“When I first drank your blood, there was a taste of fear that was indescribable. But now I know, lust will make it even sweeter.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the desk. “So beautiful, but so…fragile.” His fleshed hand wrapped around your throat; you could feel the bitemarks as his thumb ran over them. “You know all I’d have to do is squeeze, right? And I’d crush this fragile beautiful throat. You’re so delicate.” His voice was low. You were still afraid, but that fear was streaked with desire. You wanted to give yourself to him, no matter what the cost.

“Please…Bucky…” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Please what, baby? Tell me. Tell me you want me to ravage you like the beast that I am. I can smell your pussy; you must be absolutely dripping by now.” You were drowning. And he was oxygen.

“Yes.” You barely breathed the word out before his lips were on yours. He slowly pushed you to lay down on the desk. You could hear rumbling in your ears. You couldn’t tell if it was the storm, or your heartbeat. But judging by how Bucky was staring down at you, you assumed the latter.

“You’re so excited aren’t you, doll? You want me to fuck you, make you my slut. And I will, you are never leaving me.” He pulling away, making you whine in desperation, but his only response was to growl as he ripped your jeans down, your shoes falling away and leaving only your panties covering your pussy. He knelt between them, putting your legs over his shoulder, and inhaled deeply.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “You are soaking wet. How long have you been hiding this, huh? Since I first drank your blood, or from when I told you that I am absolutely obsessed with you? What a shameless slut.” His words, that voice, you would listen to him forever if he wanted, anything to get him to touch you. His fingers moved slowly, stroking you over your panties.

“I’ve dreamed about eating this pussy for so long, and now I’m going to savor every moment.” You tried to buck your hips as he nipped at your thigh, but his silver arm held you firm. In the bright light of the fire, you could see how each of the platelets moved as he gripped you tighter. You looked back down at him between your legs and knew he’d seen you staring.

“Someday I’ll show you everything it can do baby. But for now...” He pulled your panties aside and started with soft licks to your clit while two fingers gently worked inside you. His touch was so gentile compared to the monster you’d feared him as. Your soft moan turned into a shriek as the edge of his fang nipped you.

“I told you, love. Desire will make the blood so much sweeter. I know you want me. Want to be my little snack for all eternity.” His fingers sped up, rubbing that special spot inside you that make you cry out with reckless abandon.

“Bucky…Bucky…don’t stop…oooh…” you moaned. Your hands clasping for structure and finding none. His tongue resumed its ministrations on your clit, never even giving his words a chance to wash over you as your knees began to shake. You could feel the erratic patterns his tongue was laving on your clit, driving your climax further to its breaking point.

“Cum for me, darling. Give yourself to me.” His words were your undoing as you screamed his name. Cumming harder than you could have ever imagined possible. And true to his word, his tongue lapped up every drop it could, sucking his fingers clean. You lay against the cool desk, your body burning with desire and you locked eyes with him, not caring to look away. He smiled, showing off his fangs. “Oh, baby girl, between your blood and your pussy, I’ll never go hungry again.”

Standing up and leaning over to kiss you, you found yourself tugging at his shirt, trying to get his skin on yours again.

“Bucky please…need you…” you begged.

“How can I deny such a sweet bunny like you?” He rid himself of his shirt and sweatpants as you followed suit, dropping your panties to the floor. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock. You’d had your fun with toys but he was something else. You could see pre-cum dribbling down the side and you wanted to close your legs, but Bucky stood between them

“Don’t look so afraid, doll. I know a good slut like you can take my cock in that pretty pussy.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your slit and you tried to push your hips up. He pinched your thigh, making you squeak. With his spare hand, he gathered your hands in his strong metal one, pinning them above you to the surface of the desk. His cock teased your entrance and you both moaned.

“You’re mine now, understand. Heart, body, mind.” He kissed from your temple to your ear. “I own you down to your very soul. Forever.” You nodded. He was a vampire. He was obsessed with you. He’d likely hunted you down for weeks. But none of that mattered now. You needed him.

“Yes, Bucky. I’m yours. You’re mine.” Bucky smiled and pushed his cock into you, slowly; letting you feel the stretch of him filling you up.

“Yes, darling. I’m yours. Yours to keep satisfied. Yours to use you as a little fuck toy when I need it.” His pace became rougher, fucking you; squeezing your wrists tighter until you yelped. Then he slowed his hips, letting you now revel in the pleasure you felt. He started rubbing at your still sensitive clit, making you clench around him. He growled deeply and you gasped as his eyes flashed crimson.

“Oh, baby doll, don’t play with fire if you don’t want to end up burnt.” He said, his voice lower and huskier. You knew he was getting closer to his own release when his pace picked up again. Not as punishing as before, but you felt his lust, his carnality in every thrust. And it only drove you crazier.

“When you cum, I’m going to drink from you again and you will be bound to me, my mate, my slut, little morsel.

“Yes…Bucky yes…please…” closer and closer you edged until he let out a low growl.

“If you don’t cum right now, I have no problem chaining you in my basement and edging you until the next full moon. Now. Cum.” The idea alone sent you over the edge, screaming out as he bit down fiercely on your neck, drinking from you again. He kept fucking you through his own orgasm, but did not drink as much as he did last time. Only just enough to make you light headed. When he finished, you two lay there a few moments, you breathing heavily as Bucky seemed to still above you. As you floated back down, your body seemed to go even more limp.

“Such a good girl.” Bucky released your wrists, but you didn’t have the strength to move your arms. Instead, he cupped your chin in his hand and kissed you with your blood streaked across his lips. He kissed passionately and deeply, until your toes curled and you knew he meant what he said.

Not bothering to remove himself, Bucky helped you wrapped your arms around him and he carried you over to one of the enormous couches by the fire. Grabbing a blanket off the back and swaddling you both. “You’ll have to sleep for a little while now. But when you wake up, you’ll live forever.” His words seeped into your brain, but there was nothing you could do now. You heard him speak again.

“You wanna know the real story behind those people?” Bucky asked and you made a noise of half-committal. “Well, those colonizers weren’t hard to pick off.” In that moment, you were reminded that though he seemed to have a soft spot for you, there were also very, very dark spots. You shuddered, but it was quickly washed away by the feeling of his metal arm, holding you tighter.

“Don’t worry darling,” he purred. “Think of all the beautiful photos you can take in the moonlight.

#bunbun's spooptober collection #vampire!bucky #Vampire!Bucky x reader #Bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x reader #halloween #vampires #darkish!Bucky

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samnia · 1 year ago

Text

ERICSON KIDS WITH AN S/O WHO USED TO BE APART OF A SINGING TRIO PT.1

For example, think about rnb, hip-hop, pop, and K-pop girl groups.

Fem reader

Marlon:

You never told him, he found out by himself. Marlon was looking through the principal's office for shits and giggles, right? Then he came across an album that contained a picture of you and 2 other people. You all looked pretty young. That's how he knew it was before the walkers existed.

"Y/n, come here for a second." Marlon said, excitement in his tone. You walked over, and he helped you huddle down. "Look what I found!" He handed you the cd. "Oh my god! I forgot about this. Marlon, where'd you find it?" You asked in shock.

"I guess the headmaster had a copy. Y/n, I didn't see you as that type of girl." He teased, you took a relieved sigh. "What can I say? The chance was presented, so I took it." You rested your head on Marlon's shoulder.

"This was my favorite, I swear there was a Cd player layin around."

Violet:

She found out at another one of Ruby's hootenanny. It was time for music to play. A.J. and Willy was dancing with glee while Tenn hyped them up. You sat down and watched with Violet. Dancing just isn't your strong suit. "Now this song is more modern.

It was my Mama's favorite!" Ruby voiced, she played the song. the beat gave you deja vu. "Y/n, you alright? You look kinda pale." Violet asked with concern. You nodded your head. It was only when the first chorus started to play. You realized something.

It was the song you made with some other girls and made a song.. It was getting deadly close to your part of it. You started to sweat a bit. "You don't seem fine. What's wrong?" Violet muttered. She wrapped her hand around your shoulder

"This is my song. My part is coming up real soon." You chuckled out. before she could reply, your voice came on the player, bright as ever. Everyone and anybody looked at you in shock. "Wow, you sound really amazing." Violet claimed, "you think so?" You asked. "Yeah."

Louis:

He first found out through the card game. When Clementine asked if they ever met anyone famous, you decided to speak on your own experiences.

"Kinda, I was a part of singing trio. Those kinds of things. It was for 3 years, though.." Soon as you uttered those words, he started to flood you with questions. Did you ever blow up like crazy? What were your favorite tunes to perform? Oh, and where in the world are the other two? You seemed to like and entertain his questions.

Eventually, someone intervened, " Louis, knock it off!" But that didn't stop the both of you from fooling around somewhere else. Just two melodic idiots whistling into the distance.

Mitch:

You and Mitch had just found a working van capable of carrying a lot of people. But it needs a bit of renovation if everyone wants in. You bought Clementine, Willy, A.J., and Assim along. Mostly because Mitch and Clementine want this to be a learning moment for their adoptive siblings. But Assim is there to actually work. "Mitch and Y/n, we're going to need some parts to get this thing going. It'd be nice if you went and got us these things. Go out further if you have to." Clementine offered.

"Sure, anything to get out of here," Mitch exaggerated. Clem handed me the paper. It had all the car parts and where they're located.You two have been walking for a while. You came across a vehicle with some stuff inside, "Mitch, I found one." You yelled. He came over quick. "No walkers?" Mitch checked. "Nope," you reassured. He used a crowbar to force it open and then started to search.

You joined him, looking into the front seat. You found a rolled up poster in arm rest. You were about to unroll it until Mitch called your name, "Y/n! Come here, we really hit the jackpot!" Y/n came out with the poster in hand. Mitch was supposedly siphoning gas. A whole lot was coming out of the tube and in the canister. "Damn, this can last us a lifetime." You claimed. "What's that?" He asked, pointing to your hand. "A poster I found. Im gonna open it up right now." You told him. Mitch got up from the ground and standed next to her

Y/n unraveled it, only for a wave of shock to overrun her face. Mitch had catched a glimpse of it, too. "Holy shit, y/n- is that you?" He beamed, a picture of you and two other girls were holding bubble letters, spelling something out. A lot of junk was on it, so it wasn't readable. One word was crystal clear, "concert."

"It's been so long, I didn't even get to perform." You marveled. "How did you even get the chance?" He questioned. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that!"

Y/n sighed, "My parents were friends with one of the girls' mom. She got me on set." You paused, "if I remember the poster came with an cd. Maybe it's in here."

Please send requests, no smut.

#twdg marlon headcanon #x reader #female #fem reader #violet x reader #twdg louis x reader #twdg marlon #twdg marlon imagine #louis twdg #mitch twdg x reader #mitch x reader #mitchtwdg #twdg fanfiction #twdg fanfic

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mountttmase · 2 years ago

Note

Sending this req on mason as you asked for!😉

You meet mason for the first time in real and he finds you a very feisty one. You attract him so much that he wants to impress you so bad. But you always knocking him out with your humor and wits. Eventually he wins you?

I hope it makes some sense! Also counting on you to write this piece...*pouts*

Good day,mate!

Mason is a heart💙

You Make Me Nervous

Note - thank you lovely. Found this one a bit difficult as I’m the most unfeisty woman on the planet but I hope it’s okay for you 💕

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 4.8k

Warnings - fluffy I guess. Maybe a bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

‘Uh, c-can I help you?’ The boy at the door asked nervously, after he’d given you a once over.

‘Who is it, Mase?’ You heard Jaz bellow from upstairs and he visibly gulped before attempting to ask your name, but you beat him to it.

‘Y/n’ you smiled at him before he shouted your name up to her.

‘Ah amazing’ she replied before you heard tiny footsteps pounding down the hallway in your direction.

‘Y/n!’ You heard Summer squeal, bounding towards you as fast as she could, before you swept her up in your arms and pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek.

‘Hello baby, are you ready?’ You asked and she nodded as Jaz came into view with Summers bag of things. You could feel Masons stare lingering on you but you tried to ignore him.

‘Thank you so much, y/n. All her stuff is in here. I think two hours should be enough time but I’ll text you if anything changes’ she smiled warmly at you as you set the little girl down and took her bag of belongings.

‘No worries, I’ve got my phone on loud if you need me’ you nodded as you took summer by the hand. ‘Say bye bye mummy. See you soon’ you told Summer and she lifted her hand to give an enthusiastic wave back.

‘Bye mummy, bye uncle Masey’ she shouted and you waved at Jaz as she disappeared back inside.

‘Bye uncle Masey’ you winked, noticing his jaw drop ever so slightly and his eyes widen as you turned and led summer back down the driveway. ‘So that’s uncle Masey huh, Summer?’ You questioned when you were finally out of his stare. Summer was always on about him and obviously you knew who he was but you’d never actually met him.

He was gorgeous there was no doubt about it, and watching the way he reacted to you gave you a slight confidence boost as you recognised that look of shyness anywhere. Not one you’d seen from him in pictures and videos as he always looked so sure of himself from what you could tell, so it was nice to know you could pull that side out of him.

You took Summer to the park so she could run around with the other kids and play on the swings for a little while before sitting her with you on a blanket so she could have a drink and a little snack until you heard the unmistakeable sound of the ice cream van. You both made eye contact for a few seconds before gathering your things up and making your way over.

‘Our little secret this yeah?’ You winked as you handed her the lolly she wanted whilst she mimed zipping her lips. You careful took yours and and then her hand so you could exit the park and after a quick look at your watch you noticed you had 20 minutes until you needed to get summer home. ‘How about we walk the long way back, give us time to finish these before anyone sees us’ you told her and she nodded as you set off.

She told you all about what she’d done at nursery that week, and all her new friends she’d made and when you were almost at her house, you bent down to make sure there was no evidence on her face before knocking on the door. This time Jaz was there to let you in and she opened the door with a huge smile.

‘Ah, my two favourite girls’ she laughed ‘you’re just in time. You are staying aren’t you?’ She quizzed and you nodded with a laugh. She was hosting a surprise party for Lewis as his birthday was in a few days and she’d called you to ask if you could take Summer out for a few hours whilst the family prepped everything. You knew most of them pretty well, besides Mason, so when she invited to to join them for the afternoon you were quick to say yes.

‘Of course’ you smiled, ushering Summer in and following in behind her.

‘Well you’re off the clock now so go grab yourself a drink and relax. Mum and dad are out the back and Lewis should be here in about half an hour’ she told you and you led Summer into the garden. As soon as she noticed Debbie she was off and running into her arms.

‘Hi y/n’ she called as you followed over, pulling you in for a quick hug ‘how was the little pickle?’

‘As good as gold, just like always’ you told her, ruffling Summers hair as she giggled at you. You quickly made the rounds and said hello to everyone else before you noticed Mason stood at the other end of the garden, in front of the BBQ whilst scratching the side of his head. You didn’t know what it was about him but you were in the mood to tease him a bit a see how he reacted to you. You quietly made your way over and used the fact he hadn’t seen you to your advantage. ‘Need a hand?’ You quizzed and you held in a giggle as he jumped out of his skin, hand on his heart as he looked at you. His big brown eyes even bigger than usual as he stared you down.

‘Uh, I-I don’t know’ he told you, taking a few breaths to calm his racing heart.

‘I’m y/n by the way. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself before. And sorry about the scare just now’ you laughed whilst holding your hand out for his to shake.

‘I’m Mason, it’s nice to meet you. And if you tell me how to get this to work then all is forgiven’ he told you, shaking your hand before you gave the BBQ a once over. You noticed it was electric and the switch was down so you quickly flicked it to on and the whole thing roared to life. ‘How did you do that? He asked you, stunned that it was now working and you just shrugged, turning to face him.

‘Some say I have a talent for turning things on’ you winked, before leaving him flustered and alone. Your friends had always described you as fiery and flirtatious but you’d never been like this with a boy so quickly. Maybe it was the way he looked at you an reacted to your words that encouraged you and also the fact you probably shouldn’t be speaking this way with him that made you carry on.

Mason was busy helping his dad with the food until Jaz ran outside telling everyone to get into position as Lewis was at the door. Mason was standing directly opposite you and you noticed how his face flushed when you made eye contact.

After you’d yelled surprise and Lewis had made his way round to greet everyone, you noticed Mason had abandoned his dad in favour of sitting with Summer. You went and stood close enough so you could hear what they were saying as she sat on his lap on the grass.

‘What’s y/n like? Is she nice?’ He asked and you saw summer nod her head excitedly.

‘Yes she the best’ she babbled, clapping her hands and your heart warmed as she spoke about you.

‘Is she better than me?’

‘Mhmmm’

‘What? She’s better than uncle Masey?’

‘Yeah, she buys me ice cream but it’s a secret’ she told him in a whisper, her tiny finger over her lips and he let out a laugh at her words.

You smiled at their exchange before quickly heading inside to use the loo. As you were walking back through the house you noticed Mason stood in the kitchen, his head in the fridge and he opened up a few bottles.

‘What’s a girl got to do to get a drink around here?, you spoke, noticing how he jumped again as you caught him unaware.

‘Are you getting a kick out of scaring me or something?’

‘What can I say, I enjoy that frightened little look on your face. It’s cute’ you told him with a shrug and you noticed how his face flushed again as he was at a loss for words. ‘So, what about that drink?’

‘I um, yeah I can get you something’ he told you, walking over to where you were stood. ‘What do you drink?’

‘What’s on offer?’

‘Whatever you want’

‘You shouldn’t of told me that’ you said with a laugh. ‘I’ll take a mojito then’ you smiled, thinking if the most complicated drink you knew.

‘I’m not a cocktail waiter’ he exclaimed, his eyebrows almost getting lost in his hairline as he let out a chuckle. Your placed your hands on your hips and gave him an incredulous look.

‘Well I never’ you huffed sarcastically but you saw him grab his phone and type something in before setting it down. ‘What’s the point of you being here then if not to make the drinks?’

‘I have my uses’ he winked at you, and you giggled at the fact you were finally able to get him to come out of his shell a little more around you. ‘Now, gimme a few minutes and let me work this out’

‘Work what out?’

‘I’m making you a mojito if it kills me’ he told you before assembling everything he needed. You watched him work away, confusion turning into excitement as he got the hang of it and after a while he presented to you something that vaguely looked like a mojito. You took a sip, looking at his hopeful face and when you gave him a smile and a small nod, he celebrated like he’d just scored a goal. ‘Let me know when you want another one. But don’t tell anyone else or I’ll be in here all day making drinks for everyone’

‘So you’re like my personal slave’ you asked seductively, sucking on your straw again as you stared into his eyes. He lost his cool for a second before blushing and looking away again. ‘Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me’ you laughed before fleeing the kitchen.

Jaz was soon letting everyone know the food was ready, and when you took a seat next to Summer, Mason immediately sat next to you, placing a fresh drink down in front of you. You sent him and appreciative smile which he returned but you caught the look Jaz was sending your way. You chose to ignore it for now, helping Summer with her food and chatting to Mason. Holding back on the sass you’d been giving him all day and you felt him relax around you even more. He was charming and funny and every time you got a flash of that dammed smile you felt the butterflies in your tummy erupt.

Soon everyone had finished and dispersed from the table, but you and Mason sat talking for ages, his arm around the back of your chair as you turned to face each other. You tried to be your usual charming self and he was laughing at your jokes and really listening to what you were saying which made you feel good. It was hard to concentrate sometimes though when he was really looking at you and he was close enough now that you noticed all the freckles that dotted his face and the way his eyes captured the sun which only made him appear 100x prettier to you if that was even possible.

‘Y/n! Uncle Masey!’ You suddenly heard summer shouting as she ran over to the pair of you and Mason quickly sat her on his lap. ‘Ball in tree’ she huffed as she pointed over to show you her ball stuck in the branches that hung over from the neighbours side.

You both went over with her, each of you holding one of her hands and he sent you a small smile as you neared the tree. You let Mason assess the situation before he turned you. The trunk was behind the neighbours fence so he couldn’t climb it but the branches were just a bit to high for him to reach on his own so you knew what he was about to ask you.

‘I’m gonna have to lift you up, I can’t reach and she’s not tall enough either’ he said, motioning to Summer with his head. ‘Don’t worry you’re in safe hands’ uttered as he stepped towards you ‘just put your hands on my shoulders and make yourself stiff’

‘Funny, I thought you’d be the stiff one in this situation’ you joked as he bent down a little and your joke made him crouch down all the way to his knees with his hand over his eyes as he laughed.

‘Why do you always crack jokes at the most inappropriate times’ he inquired and you laughed as you looked down at him.

‘Sorry, I think it’s a deflection tactic’ you explained as he rose up to tower over you again, his face impossibly close to yours. ‘I promise I’ll be good now’ you breathed and you heard the tiniest hint of a moan escape his lips.

‘Make sure you are’ he breathed, a serious look in his eye and you felt those butterflies erupt again as you held his eye contact. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he bent down again to hug his arms around your thighs as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. ‘After three yeah?’ He told you and you nodded before he counted down and lifted you off the floor.

You were surprised at his strength and you squealed ad he straightened up. You panicked as he got his footing and guided you towards where the ball was.

‘Mason I dont like this’ you whimpered but you felt him laugh against your legs.

‘Just get it quickly and I’ll let you down’

You huffed and looked up, the ball being still slightly out of your grasp but you shook the branches about a bit and soon enough it fell to the floor. You expected Mason to let you down but he did the opposite, holding you tighter as he practically ran around with you in the air and you screamed before flopping over and pounding on his back.

‘Mason Mount, put me down right this second!’ You screamed but it just made him laugh even harder and you could soon hear everyone else joining in with him. He came to a sudden halt, letting you go slightly but only so he could move you back over his shoulder and carry you bridal style, his arms under your knees and around your back as you looped your arms around his neck. His face was suddenly right next to yours, his lips in touching distance and his eyes were constantly flickering between your eyes and your lips before you were interrupted.

‘Well isn’t this cute’ Jaz commented before locking eyes with Mason. You both laughed awkwardly as he set you down, his arm snaking over your shoulders as he pulled you towards him a little bit. ‘I need a hand in the kitchen Mase, you think you could come with me?’ He nodded and followed her inside and was only gone for a minute before Summer ran over to you, complaining that she’d spilled her drink down herself.

‘Don’t worry Summer, let me grab a cloth and I’ll clean you up’ you told her, quickly walking inside to ask Jaz for a cloth but her and Mason were nowhere to be seen. It only took a few seconds though to hear her voice coming from the living room.

‘Really Mase? Summers babysitter? Out of all the girls in the country you want to take y/n on a date?’

‘Look, I’m not asking for your permission Jaz, she might not even say yes but I wanna get to know her better’

‘Do you know how hard it’s been to find a babysitter like her? Summer adores her, we all do. I’m not having you taking her out and breaking her heart’

‘I wouldn’t do that, Jaz. Come on is that what you think of me? I like her. Please don’t ruin this for me before it’s even started.’

‘You’ve known her for five minutes’

‘Hence why I wanna take her out’ he shouted, but you didn’t want to intrude anymore so you quickly grabbed a cloth for Summer and ran back outside to clean her up.

You were soon singing happy birthday to Lewis with Summer on your hip and you couldn’t ignore the way Mason was looking at you from across the garden. You’d thought about what you’d overheard in the kitchen but you were unsure with how to proceed. Did you want to go on a date with Mason? Of course you did, and the fact it had taken only one afternoon in his presence to wrap you around his finger scared the life out of you. But was it worth making things awkward with Jaz and risking your job? You weren’t so sure.

You discreetly said your goodbyes to everyone, claiming you had an early morning but made sure to avoid Mason as you weren’t ready to have that conversation with him. You’d made it halfway down the drive when you heard him calling your name, running down to meet you.

‘Are you leaving?’

‘Uh yeah, sorry. Just got some stuff to sort out’

‘Oh okay, um well I just wanted to-‘

‘Don’t Mason’ you interrupted, turning away from him, but he grabbed your arm to stop you from going.

‘What’s going on?’ He asked you, confusion written all over his face at your sudden difference in behaviour. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

‘No’ you told him, your eyes on the floor, but you jolted when you felt his fingers under your chin, tilting your face back up to his. ‘I’m sorry Mason I have to go’ you whispered but this time he let you leave.

Three days later you were back looking after Summer, sharing a quick coffee with Jaz in her kitchen before she had to leave for a few appointments, and it wasn’t long before the topic of Mason was bought up.

‘I saw the way you two were looking at each other the other day. You certainly made an impression on him’ she teased and you could feel yourself blush as you thought about him. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him in the days in between but you didn’t want to speak about it too much. ‘I know he’s got a massive crush on you’

‘You think?’ You laughed trying to brush off her comments but she seemed to be going all in.

‘Oh I know. Trust me he was wallowing around like a lost puppy after you left. And if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like him back’ she winked but all you could do was laugh nervously. ‘Look y/n, he’s a good guy. He’s not gonna hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about’ you told you but you shook you head, keeping your eyes on your drink.

‘It’s not that at all, I just thought it might be a bit weird you know? I work for you and I don’t want to cross any boundaries. Also I sort of heard you two talking the other day about it and I got the impression you didn’t want it to happen’ you confessed and you heard her sigh before setting her cup down.

‘Sorry, y/n it was just a bit of a shock when he told me. Truth is I trust you both a hell of a lot and I don’t want to stand in the way of anything. He’s my little brother at the end of the day and I just want him to be happy. If nothing happens then fine I know you’ll still be professional but I don’t want you to not go for it cause you’re worried about me’ she reassured you with a hand on your shoulder.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course. Plus Summer loves you, as do we, so if it all works out then we don’t have to pretend to like you for his benefit’ she winked and you let out a small chuckle. ‘Now that I think about it, you two would be good together. He could do with bringing down a peg or two sometimes and I know you’ve got that sass inside you to keep him on his toes. And you deserve to be treated like a queen which he knows how to do. I should know i taught him everything. If you want to go for it and see what happens then please just forget about me and what you heard the other day’

‘I’ll think about it’ you laughed and you chatted for a few more minutes before she left.

Summer was well behaved for most of the morning but you could tell she was getting tired and groggy so you put her down for a nap a little early. You were just settling down on the sofa to watch some TV when you heard a knock at the door. Figuring it was the postman you opened it up to find Mason standing on the other side, both looking shocked at the other standing there.

‘Y/n? Sorry I thought Jaz was in’

‘No she’s got a few appointments’ you told him and he nodded apprehensively. ‘Do you wanna come in?’ You asked him and he gulped down a nervous lump before coming inside, seemingly shocked you’d invited him in. ‘I’ve just put Summer down for a nap’ you laughed as you led him into the kitchen. You were both stood there a little awkwardly, but you couldn’t deny you were happy to see him. You’d just hoped you hadn’t ruined your chances the other day. ‘Can I get you a drink or anything?’ He shook his head, but you noticed he was trying to suppress a smile. ‘You sure? Name a cocktail and I’ll learn how to do it’ you winked and he finally let out a little laugh.

‘I best not’ he smiled, but you saw him grab a bottle of water from the fridge. ‘Do you know what time Jaz will be back?’

‘I think another couple of hours yet ‘ you told him

‘Am I alright to stay here till she’s home?’ He asked, almost timidly and your heart sunk at the way he was looking at you. Clearly unsure of where you were at due to how you acted with him the other day. You wanted to set him straight so you nodded at him before taking a few steps towards him.

‘Im sorry for leaving like I did the other day. I hope you know it was never anything you did or said, I just… it doesn’t matter but I am really sorry’ you told him and he looked at you with a small smile before looking to the floor.

‘Are you sure? I thought I’d maybe overstepped the mark or something?’

‘No of course not, I really enjoyed your company that afternoon’

‘What happened then?’ He asked, his eyes looking at you confused. You took a deep breath before answering. Not sure if it was worth going into everything that happened but in the end you thought maybe it was best as you didn’t want to start keeping things from him this early on.

‘I came inside to get Summer a tissue and I overheard you and Jaz talking in the other room’ you murmured and you saw his face scrunch up as he remembered the conversation. ‘I didn’t listen for long or anything but obviously I work for Jaz and I don’t want to jeopardise anything’

‘I get that’ he nodded with a sad smile, but the way is shoulders dropped made you realise he thought everything was over before it had a chance to start.

‘Jaz had a chat with me this morning though, she’s kind of done a 180 on all of it’ you told him, sitting down at the kitchen island and he followed you over with a confused look on his face. ‘Told me she thinks we’d be good together’ you winked and you saw his cheeks turn red as as he laughed.

‘What did you hear me say exactly?’ He murmured, letting his face drop into his hands as he was clearly embarrassed

‘You want to take me on a date apparently?’ you teased, bashing your shoulder into his gently and he laughed as covered his face, flopping down onto the island. ‘And you want to get to know me’

‘Alright, alright’ he laughed, standing up and walking back over to the fridge. His face was redder than you’d ever seen it but you couldn’t help but notice the smile on his face and it warmed your heart. It looked like he didn’t even need anything, just opened the door and shut it again as a distraction tactic.

‘Can I ask you something?’ You enquired once he’d shut the door again and he nodded as he slowly made his way back over to you. ‘Why do you wanna take me out?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ He questioned, he brows drawn in as he propped himself up next to you again.

‘I’m Summer’s babysitter, I don’t live a life life you do. I’m probably not like the girls you usually speak to either’

‘You’re right. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl quite like you before’ he nodded before taking your hand to pull you up gently. ‘You’re witty, and feisty and I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s made so many dirty jokes around me so quickly’ he laughed, brushing your hair behind your ear as he took both your hands in his. ‘Not to mention you’re gorgeous, like way out of my league’ he chuckled and you laughed along with him. ‘Thought if from the second I saw you’

‘You’re not too bad, don’t be so hard on yourself’ you told him and he shook his head as he let out a little snort.

‘I don’t care that we don’t live the same life, or that you’re Summers babysitter. All I know is I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the other day and I want a chance to get to know you properly’

‘Yeah? Or do you just wanna steal my jokes?’ You winked and he squeezed your hands a bit tighter. ‘I’m kidding. I’d like that too’ you whispered and your heart sped up as he smiled down at you, his eyes flickering all over your face and all you wanted was to reach up and kiss him, but you held back. Not wanting to look to eager or give him the wrong idea.

‘So you’ll let me take you on a date then?’

‘I think that might be okay’ you whispered and he nodded before he lent down to place a quick kiss on your cheek.

‘You make me so nervous’ he whispered as you both pulled away but the pair of you were distracted when you heard tiny steps coming down the stairs. The both of you went to meet Summer as she’d woken up from her nap and you had no time to talk or do anything after that as you both kept her entertained. Once Jaz was home and you’d given her a quick rundown of the day, you went to get your things but Masons stopped you.

‘Gimme five minutes just to sort something out and I’ll drop you home?’ He asked and you nodded with a smile before he disappeared with Jaz to sort something out they were arranging for his parents. He wasn’t long and before you knew it he was opening the car door for you to hop in.

‘You know it’s still pretty early’ he told you and you looked at your phone to see it had just gone half three. ‘Why don’t we hang out for the rest of the day? Maybe grab some dinner after? Unless your busy then we can do something another time’

‘I’m free’ you smiled at him, noticing he was back to his flustered self around you but he gave you the most beautiful smile when you agreed to spend some time with him. ‘What do you have in mind?’ You enquired and he winked at you before grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers together in you lap.

‘It’s a secret’

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