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pretend-theres-a-name-here · 2 months ago

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Little thing I wrote while procrastinating writing part 5 of Hide Your Heart.

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Steve Harrington who knows his kid brother is obsessed with some niche, up and coming metal band. Steve Harrington who groans and grumbles and carries on about having to drive him around to shows and listen to him nerding out but does it anyway. Steve Harrington who doesn’t really pay attention because the lights on the stage are too bright and drown out whoever’s playing. Steve Harrington who is currently wading through a crowd making their way to the door, going against the current and stumbling as he searches for the mop of hair he promised to get home.

“Henderson!” He cups his hands around his mouth, “Where is that kid?”

He finds himself pushed to the outskirts of the mass of bodies, plastered to a wall but he still pitches forward when a particularly rowdy young woman rams into him. He thinks he’s going to go all the way to the floor when a hand snags his elbow, holding him up. He turns to rush out an apology, a few thanks for the save, but stops before he can get the words out because holy shit the guy is gorgeous.

And Steve—well Steve has been doing some thinking about himself. About how most guys don’t have to mentally prepare themselves to go into the locker room after pe class. About how most guys don’t let their friends paint their nails pretty colors. Robin told him that there was this thing called being bisexual and he thought some things were clicking into place. So he’s gotten used to going out and noticing more than just girls, it’s not uncommon, but this guy is hot, like really hot.

He’s dressed in leather pants and a cut off tank top that hangs around his sides. Tattoos, more doodles than actual designs, on full display for the world to see, running up his arms and peeking out from his ribs. His hair is in curly tangles, sweat sticking it to his forehead but he’s grinning. He has a jacket, leather, in his other hand.

He’s also still holding on to Steve’s arm. Warm rings press into the inside of his elbow as he rights himself.

“First time?” The man asks.

“Y-yeah.” Steve gets out, “I’m supposed to be here with my brother, he’s a huge fan of some band playing here. Molded Coffin or something.”

The guy’s face breaks out into a full on smile, humor sparking in his eyes but Steve doesn’t know if what he said was that funny.

“Yeah? Where’s he at?” The guy still hasn’t let go, leading Steve away from the crowd and further into the room where there were less people.

“I’m actually looking for him now. Left him alone for five minutes to get a drink and he disappears.”

“You need help? These things can get a little crazy.” The man offers.

“You do this a lot?” Steve asks, immediately mentally face palming. He practically asked the guy if he came here often, he was going to think he was flirting. Was he?

The man just smiled, “You could say that. Eddie.” He finally released Steve’s arm in favor of holding out his hand. They shook hands and Steve told the man—Eddie—his name.

They talked for a while, Eddie got them drinks and Steve told himself that Dustin was old enough to behave himself for 15 minutes. Eddie kept an arm around his shoulders the whole time, shielding him from the chaos of the dwindling crowd was his excuse. Steve would have told him he didn’t need an excuse if that didn’t seem too forward.

Eddie was just asking for his number when someone behind them called, “Ed! Quite flirting and get your ass over here! You’re helping us tear down this time!”

Eddie sighed, “Duty calls.” He scribbled something on to a napkin, patting it against Steve’s chest and backing away, “I’ll be waiting for yours, sweetheart.”

And Steve was either drunk or insane because he actually laughed at that. Laughed again when he looked at the napkin and saw numbers almost unreadable, a winking face below them.

“Steve! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you—What’s that?” Dustin’s tone went from annoyed to prying as soon as he saw the napkin.

“None of your business.” He stuffed the napkin in his pocket, “Are you ready to go or what, kid, I’ve been waiting forever.” He poked Dustin’s shoulder until he got moving and then he poked it again when Dustin scowled at him.

In the car he was once again subjected to Dustin’s after show rant about how cool it was. The guitarist apparently broke two strings and flipped the crowd off with his bloody fingers—which they went wild for, which Dustin screeched along with them for. They played a new song, but it all sounded the same to Steve. That was as much as he heard, though, his mind kept wandering back to the man after the show. To the number in his pocket. He debated putting it to use, was the next day too soon? How long was too long until Eddie forgot about him? A guy like that probably had a mountain of napkins with numbers thrown at him every day. He decided to get over himself and call late the next day.

“Hi, this is Steve.” He suddenly felt very silly for calling but it was too late now.

“Steve, pretty boy from the show last night Steve?” And just like that he forgot why he hesitated to call.

“That would be me.” He cringed, “No, wait, that sounds so self centered.”

“Not self centered if it’s a compliment.” Eddie argued.

“If you say so.”

They talked, got 10 whole minutes of random conversations Steve never wanted to end before Eddie cursed.

“I’m sorry, I promised my uncle I’d help at the shop.” He muttered, “I’m gonna be late.”

“That’s fine, you should go help him.”

“I’ll call you later?” Eddie asked, and if Steve didn’t know any better he’d say it sounded hopeful.

“I’ll be here later.” He responded.

They called all the time after that, whenever they were both free. They even met up in person, it was just to the park because Eddie found out Steve had never fed ducks before, but it ended with another day scheduled to spend together and then another and then a month had passed and he could say they were officially dating. It was the best time Steve had had in a long time and he really didn’t want it to end. The realization came to him one night, after another day with Eddie, and it wasn’t as shocking as he thought it would be. It was a Friday night, Eddie was busy most Saturdays—something about going to shows with the guys—so a lot of their slow nights were Fridays. They were watching TV on the couch in Eddie’s trailer, which was quickly becoming Steve’s favorite place, when he found himself watching the way Eddie laughed and even jumped at whatever horror movie was on more than he was watching the movie itself.

“I love you.” He whispered.

Eddie’s head whipped around, eyes wide, movie forgotten, “I love you too!” And then Steve couldn’t be blamed for not watching the movie anymore when he was practically tackled to the couch, laughing the whole way down.

It was a month after that night that he was steeling himself outside of his front door.

“It’ll be fine.” He said to himself, “They’re going to love you.” He said to Eddie who was gripping his hand.

“It’ll be fine.” Eddie agreed and he almost sounded convinced.

Today was the one day that everyone could gather at Steve’s. The whole party had shown up, everyone he had folded into his makeshift family was in his living room waiting for him to get back with the new partner he told them he was introducing. Today was the day they decided to tell people about them.

Steve pushed the door open, taking a deep breath before leading Eddie to the living room. All of his friends sat scattered around the room. On the couch and floor and coffee table. He could do this.

“Uh. Hey.” He cleared his throat, “I’m back.” All eyes snapped to him, eager to know who this mystery person was.

Eddie tried for an awkward wave but their hands were still connected so they just shook between them.

The silence was getting unbearable until finally Robin shot up from the floor and tackled him in a hug, subsequently dragging Eddie along into it.

“I’m so happy for you, dingus.” She laughed as she pulled away, “Robin.” She stuck her hand out to Eddie who visibly relaxed, “Best friend, platonic soulmate, hurt him and I swear to god you’ll wake up with no kneecaps.”

“Eddie.” Eddie squeaked, shaking her hand hastily.

“Bobbin.” Steve only called her that when she was being particularly over the top because it annoyed her to no end and she knew this, “Tone it down, would you?”

The rest of the group chorused their hellos and introductions and a weight lifted off of Steve’s shoulders at the sight of all of his friends accepting the news without comment. Until he realized there was only one person who hadn’t spoken a word, standing in the middle of the room with a strange look on his face.

“Dustin?” Steve prompted, voice strained.

“Oh my God.” Dustin mumbles in disbelief.

“Dustin…” Steve shot him a warning glance, “If you’ve got a problem with it—”

But Dustin ignores him, he’s staring at Eddie in shock, “Oh my God!” He practically shouts, coming to life to jump and screech, “That’s—! You’re—! You’re Eddie Munson!”

Eddie grins, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre reaction to meeting your brother’s boyfriend, “I take it you’re a fan?”

“A fan of what?” Steve asks, pulling his hand out of Eddie’s to turn to him face to face.

At the same time, Dustin starts babbling hysterically, “A fan? Only the biggest CC fan in all of Hawkins! I have every song on vinyl, like three posters and—oh my god this is so embarrassing. Eddie Munson is in my house and I’m telling him I have his face on my wall.”

He keeps talking but it’s more to himself than anyone else in the room so Steve raises an eyebrow at Eddie, “What’s he talking about? Why are you on posters and why does he have them?”

Eddie, for the first time since Steve has known him, looks almost sheepish, “Oh…I guess I’m kind of, maybe the frontman of Corroded Coffin.” He might be blushing.

“You’re that nerd Dustin’s always going on about?!” Steve exclaims.

#Steve just sort of zones out whenever Dustin starts rambling about CC so he doesn’t know their names #He met the rest of the band on their third date but Eddie begged them to not tell him because he needed to be the one to do it #He was going to tell him after meeting the group but he didn’t expect any of them to know him because CC isn’t that big yet #Their most consistent audience is the regulars at the Hideout and Dustin #They’re brothers because I said so #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #Pretend writes

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luveline · 8 months ago

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coworker James being protective of reader like she’s just a sweet and kind thing and he’s FINALLY accepting his feelings and reader gets like happy that he cares?

“No, no, it’s okay. Yeah, don’t worry about me, I’m just gonna watch movies all weekend. I might make popcorn. Yeah! Don’t worry about it, just have fun, okay?”

You’re talking quietly but not without pep, hushed to avoid disturbing him. By the sounds of it, your plans for the weekend have bombed. You’re taking it remarkably well.

“Okie dokie. Well, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you. Bye.” You don’t lift your head where you’re laying against the desk, but you put your phone gently by your keyboard.

“That blows,” James says.

“Maybe.” You turn your face to see him, before you lift yourself up and return to the pack of biscuits you’ve opened. “Do you want some?” you ask, bringing a malted milk to your mouth.

“Please.”

You gesture for him to take one. In relative quiet, you and James sit there chewing, the sunlight from the open window on your hands.

“You’re not upset about your plans?” he asks.

“A bit, but… I don’t want her to feel bad for me. She should have a good time, she got last minute tickets to see a band and she loves them. We can just hang out next weekend.” You push the biscuits toward him. “I need to stop eating these all the time.”

You stand up and do a big stretch, arm arched over your head before you laugh and point at him. He’s never had someone look at him like this. “Pretend you didn’t see that,” you say, raising your eyebrows just a touch.

You’re being playful. James’ stomach flips. “I didn’t see a thing,” he says.

You drop your pointing. “Really?”

He covers his eyes.

Your following laughter is even richer.

“This office makes me tired. I’m going to make some coffee before lunch is over,” you say.

You walk away like nothing happened. James is left to ruminate.

He pushes a hand into the crop of his hair and ruffles it, stressed, though the scratch of his nails against his scalp relieves some tension. James is used to being annoyed at you, you were always so irked with him, but lately he struggles to find anger for you. He still loves to tease you and watch your eyes change; there’s no better moments than on the mornings he’s here first and he’s found a new hiding place for your mug, and you’re forced to ask him where it is he put it. Asked is kind, really. More aptly, you demand to know where it is, and promise professional retribution.

You could always drink from a different mug, but James has a feeling you like asking. This morning, you found it by yourself, and you put it smugly on your desk with steam rising from the surface. “You’re getting worse,”

you’d said, and that smugness suddenly felt friendly. Your smile was ten different shades of sweet.

You are… quite sweet. You’re kind. You don’t let much upset you that isn’t James, even when it should. And the James stuff is all superficial. When was the last time you guys argued over something that mattered?

Which isn’t to say he doesn’t love arguing with you. But he’s coming to appreciate another side of you, the side that comes back to your desk with a fresh coffee and little happy breath of air when you see he’s made his two figurines cuddle each other.

“They’re in love,” you say dreamily.

“You can be so lovely,” James says. It’s like something takes over his body.

You put your coffee down. “What?” you ask, smiling as though it’s a joke you don’t get.

He’s not sure he should say it again. “I don’t know. When you smile, you’re really pretty. Like, even more than usual.”

“Ha-ha.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“I don’t believe you.”

James takes one of your biscuits. “Then don’t, it doesn’t bother me.” He wishes he hadn’t said it, what a weird thing to say, but he can’t pretend he was kidding, it would be crueller than saying nothing. So he wedges a biscuit in his mouth and laughs when you call him gross, your facade one he doesn’t believe. You wrinkle your nose, but you’re happy underneath it.

Lovely, even.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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lexirosewrites · 4 days ago

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Omega Steve is enamored with Cringe Fail Alpha Eddie and everyone in his life knows it and doesn't understand why.

He's watching Eddie with heart eyes in their one shared class, sighing longingly as Eddie, bites the skin off around his nails and eats it while he ignores the teacher and plans his campaign. He's ignoring his friends' attempts to draw his attention when Eddie gets up on the table to give his semi-regular lunch table rants, almost slipping when he steps in someone's sandwich.

He is hands down the most popular Omega in the school even after he ditches his old friend and becomes Pack Omega to a bunch of puppies and band nerd Robin Buckley. He gets a stupid amount of courting gifts and never says yes to anybody, even a good amount of Betas have tried for his hand. The only Alpha that's never offered is Eddie Munson, and it makes Steve feel crazy.

And Steve knows he could just go over there and ask Eddie if he would be interested in courting, but he wants to be wood! He knows it's silly to way for the Alpha to make an offer but Steve is a romantic at heart and he wants to be wanted.

When Eddie starts dealing in his second senior year and Steve's first, Steve sees this as his chance to finally get close to Eddie organically and flirt a little to show Eddie he's interested. That he only smokes when someone buys for him is irrelevant. He'll buy every day if it means Eddie finally notices him. Robin says he's being a dingus. Steve insists he's a genius.

And so he goes to meet Eddie in the woods. To the average outsider, Eddie's hair is all frizzed out and he's probably worn the same pair of jeans every day this week and is overall a little bit of a rat. Steve Vision, however, only sees an extremely handsome, rugged Alpha seemingly waiting for him in the woods.

"Ah, King Steve. To what do I owe the honor?" It's probably meant as a dig, but it makes Steve preen a little anyway.

"Heard you were dealing now. Couldn't miss my chance to buy from the infamous Eddie Munson." Steve replies as he sits, leaning his head on his palm so he can look up at him from under his lashes. Laying it on a little thick? Maybe. But the way Eddie blushes is worth the cringy move.

With an in, Steve slowly starts inserting himself into Eddie's life more and more. He buys at least once a week, flirting all the while. Eventually, he asks if Eddie would like to meet his kids.

"They love that game, the dungeons one, and I think it would be fun if they all got to play while you ran the plays or whatever."

"Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. I know you know what it's called, but hell yeah lets do it! I'm dying to test my skills on some fresh players."

And of course, the kids love him. Well, Max is less than impressed and while Erica recognized him as an adequate DM, she is firm in her belief that Steve could do better. She's been insistent for the last year that he should be looking for a "real Fabio type" and Eddie Munson doesn't really fit the bill.

The real win of the night, however, is that Eddie brings so much stuff directly from his house that carries his scent. He still wears his scent patch like they all have to in school, which is disappointing, but his notes and books carry a distinct smokey, wet earth smell that nearly makes Steve swoon. He didn't get to see Eddie's reaction to walking into his house, another disappointment, but he just knows they're compatible.

After that, Steve gets himself an invite to Hellfire to watch. He loves seeing Eddie in his element, smiling along when Eddie crows with victory when someone in the party dies because of their own hubris. He stays and hangs out while Eddie cleans up chatting away about their days.

But for as much as Steve puts out all the right signals, and as much as Eddie seems to be flirting back, he hasn't made even a hit of a movement toward courtship. Steve doesn't want to give up, but he's starting to resign himself to the idea that he's just going to have to ask Eddie out himself.

Then one day while Steve is loitering around after Hellfire, an Omega cheerleader walks through the door asking for Eddie. She'd been sent this way by Chrissy Cunningham for some kind of anxiety medication since her mom wouldn't let her get a prescription. Steve's not thrilled by the interruption and is glaring daggers at the poor girl, but Eddie doesn't notice. No, Eddie is too busy breaking Steve's heart.

Eddie is doing all the same things he's done with Steve. All the things that gave Steve hope that Eddie was interested despite his lack of courting attempts. He's leaning in, teasing, hiding behind his hair at the slightest bit of attention. Apparently, those weren't reactions to Steve. That's just how Eddie reacts to any available Omega who looks his way.

Suddenly mortified, Steve jumps off the table he had been so happily perched on not five minutes ago. He grunts out some half-assed excuse and bolts for the door, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the humiliating tears.

From then on, he avoids Eddie as much as he can. No more weekly buying appointments. No more sitting in on Hellfire nights. He can't avoid him completely with the kids in the mix, but he keeps his distance as much as possible, too embarrassed and heartbroken to reach back out. He doesn't drop, not with Robin being such a stable Alpha figure in his life, but everyone can tell he's in a funk.

Eddie, meanwhile, has been as enamored with Steve as every other Alpha in Hawkins for years but never figured he would ever look his way in a million years.

When the Omega started appearing in his life, it felt a little like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Like he would wake up and it would all be some crazy dream induced by years of unfulfilled pining.

But Steve never disappeared and Eddie never woke up. Eddie still wasn't convinced that Steve would ever entertain the idea of courtship with him, so he simply didn't put himself in a position to be rejected, no matter what the Corroded Coffin boys said about Steve "blatantly and obviously begging you to court him, dude."

So on and on it went. The more time went on the more Eddie's instincts screamed that the Omega was his and the more Eddie forced himself not to think about it until all of a sudden Steve was just...gone.

Not gone gone of course. He sees him in the hallways and every now and then when Steve comes to pick the kids up from group hangouts that used to involve Steve on default. Robin also seems pissed at him which is its own thing, but Eddie would be lying if he said her glare didn't make him nervous.

He doesn't know what happened, but what he does know is that his chest hurts almost permanently now. He misses Steve like crazy and is determined to make them talk about whatever it is he did to make Steve avoid him.

Now if only he could get him alone...

------

Ran out of steam at the end there but in my mind Steve keeps avoiding Eddie with the help of Robin, Max, and Erica while Dustin, El, Will, and Lucas help Eddie. Mike would like for them to never get together, please and thank you.

After a couple of months of successfully avoiding Eddie, Steve decides to take up a beta's offer for a date which makes Eddie more jealous than he ever thought was possible. He's absolutely seething, even if he knows it's irrational to be that mad about an Omega he never had any claim over.

He ends up using the kids to break into Steve's house while he's out on the date to set up a competing date. He's all puffed up and ready to posture against Steve's date when he drops Steve off but instead, Steve walks up the driveway alone, looking defeated.

They argue on the front porch about why Steve has been so absent and eventually, Eddie deflates realizing that he's been hurting Steve with his inability to confront his own feelings.

He shows Steve the date he painstakingly set up for him inside, presenting his first of many courting gifts.

idiot4idiot steddie wins again🥰🥰🥰

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks

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rueclfer · 5 months ago

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Can I request a best friends brother touya plssss :)

Ur loser Touya who, canon to your fics, writes in a diary journal is so good and needs a comeback 😭💗

Okay thank you byyyyyeee :P

god i love todosiblings tomfoolery in touya fics!!!! ily anon thank u for loving this loser as much as i do

open up the door // touya todoroki

“Knock knock.” The voice interrupts yours and Fuyumi’s chatter from the other side of her bedroom door.

“What?” Fuyumi calls out, cueing Touya to poke his head through the cracked door, eyes meeting her before your own, in which you quickly darted away. “Can we help you?”

“Yeah, you can actually.” He returns the tone, fully swinging the door open, leaning against the frame. “I hear you losers giggling and shit from all the way down the hall. Don’t you think you two should shut up and go to sleep?”

You look him up and down, eyeing the stretched out flannel pajama pants hanging low on his hips and distressed band tee over his lanky frame. The glossy sheen over his eyes and the state of his hair made it apparent that he had just rolled out of bed, woken up from yours and Fuyumi’s night time antics and gossip.

“It’s barely 12am on a Friday night, Touya.” You cock your eyebrow at him. “Nothing more important to do than to bother us?”

“Tell me, Y/N, what exactly am I interrupting?” He walks into the room, being careful to step over the scattered containers of various beads, rolls of string, and a couple pairs haphazardly throw scissors laying across the floor. “Friendship bracelets? Are you guys 12?”

You were laying on the floor on your stomach as he approached you and stepped over you with a leg on each side. Touya leans down and looks past your head to see the unfinished bracelet in your hands.

“Whatcha spelling out, huh?”

“Fuck off.” You huff, slapping his calf to shoo him away.

“Leave us alone” Fuyumi groans. “We’re gonna go to sleep right now, okay?”

“Sleep, don’t sleep, I don’t give a fuck. Just be quiet. Especially you, loudmouth.” He flicks the back of your head before stepping over you towards the door, clicking it behind him.

You and Fuyumi meet each other’s eyes before simultaneously letting out an annoyed sigh.

“Sorry, you know how he is.” Fuyumi huffs. “He’s so annoying sometimes.”

You had a long standing relationship with the Todoroki family. Your friendship with Fuyumi flourished in middle school when you had accidentally snapped her glasses in half during gym class. Luckily, for you two, you were a wizard with duct tape which had not only effectively fixed her frames, but made you two inseparable since.

“Sometimes?” You scoff, beginning to shove the craft supplies to the side, making room for your floor mattress. “I was seriously planning on marrying into the family one way or another, but you gave me some shit options, Fuy. Introduce me to a cousin or something.

“Settle for him to be with me forever.” She sighs dramatically and shoots you a pout. “If you really loved me, you would.”

Another thing that lingered since you two were kids- the concept of setting you up with her older brother. The idea had always seemed so perfect for her. There you were, someone who got along with the family, the sister she never had, and most importantly, was “good enough” for her brother, who notoriously had a shitty dating history. However, Fuyumi’s fantasy quickly crumbled midway through high school, when Touya suddenly decided that he was too good for anyone- especially his little sister’s best friend.

“Touya’s a fucking prick, Fuy. I really do want to beat the fuck out of him, no joke, and I’m pretty sure the feelings are mutual.”

“Watch it!” She scolds you. “He’s not that bad, or at least not as bad as he used to be.”

“Not as bad? ‘Hey ugly’ is his go-to greeting for me. He acts like my presence is the most inconveniencing thing ever. If we're alone in the same room, he'll avoid me like the plague and then once there's anyone else around, suddenly he wants to annoy me at any given chance.”

“He’s going through a life crisis or something. Be nice.” She warns. “Or else I’ll kick both of your asses. Wake me if you’re up before me, okay? But only if it’s after 10am.” She yawns. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah whatever, g'night." You say and roll your eyes, knowing that you will definitely not be waking her up.

Now with the lights off and you two in your respective beds, all you could do is look up at the glow in the dark stars plastered to the ceiling, and think back on all of your interactions with Touya from the moment you met him to now- from your raging infatuation with him when you first met as children to the growing resentment and annoyance into your late teens.

The glaring sunbeam peaking through the curtains hit you right in the eye, effectively waking you up from your deep sleep. Your phone reads 6:54AM. You mentally groaned to yourself before rolling out of your mattress, exiting the dark bedroom with a soft click of the door behind you. On an early Saturday morning like this, the Todoroki household had its rare moments of silent solitude

Padding your way to the bathroom, you were still in a drowsy state, eyes lidded, and the heaviness of a deep sleep weighing on your shoulders. Once the door shuts behind you, you lean against the kitchen sink and rub the sleepiness from your eyes,

"The fuck, Y/N?" The familiar voice snaps you awake. Your vision focuses on the figure standing near the shower. "You pervert, what do you think you're doing?" He exclaims with a growing amused smile.

"Jesus, Touya!" You exclaim, taking a step back against the door. "Ever use a fucking lock before?" You lowly huff, trying to keep your volume down.

"Why would I when no one's ever up this early? Don't you walk around with your eyes open?"

"I just woke up like two seconds ago." You groan. "Why are you just hanging out in the bathroom?"

"Well I was going to shower. Unless you're here to 'beat the fuck out of me?'" He leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"Listening in on our conversation? Who's the pervert now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Involuntarily, with your loud mouth and all." He takes a step closer, almost closing the gap and leaving just mere inches of space between you two. "Sounds like you don't like me very much, huh? What happened to that little crush in middle school?" He kept his voice low.

"Fizzled out a long time ago when you started thinking you were too cool for everyone." You press your finger against the middle of his chest. "You're full of yourself, stuck up, infuriating to be around, and you have no reason to not like me when we've known each other for damn near a decade. You're such a dick for no reason."

"You done?" His amused smile grew even wider, making the fury in your stomach grow stronger. "Because I don't have to explain shit to you."

You rub your face in your hands in frustration. "You know what you act like? A 13 year old who thinks being mean to his crush makes them like you back." You cross your arms, almost tip-toeing your way closer to his face. "That must be it, huh? Can't navigate your feelings?"

Touya bit the inside of his cheek.

Before he could retaliate with another venom filled comment, someone on the other side of the door was knocking. Had you two been so loud this early in the morning?

"Y/N?" You recognized the groggy voice. "Are you in there? Can I come in?"

You froze and quickly realized how the situation looked- you and Touya almost pressed up against each other in the bathroom. Alone. After you had just told her all about your disdain for her brother the night before.

You locked your eyes with him. He opened his mouth, ready to respond in your place, in which you quickly slammed your hand over his mouth, and the other on his shoulder. You start pushing him back towards the shower.

"Yeah! I'm in here, give me a second!" You called out over your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" He mouths, taking a step into the shower before he could trip over the ledge.

"Shut up." You whisper back, closing the shower curtain. "Stay." You warn.

You took a glance at yourself in the mirror, silently hoping Fuyumi doesn't notice your flushed cheeks.

"Sorry I was getting ready to shower. Was I being too loud?" You open the door to see her sleepy state of lidded eyes and tousled hair.

"No." She yawns. "I got a migraine, I just need my medication."

You step aside for her to dig through the medicine cabinet for a moment, sending subtle glances to the shower every now and then, hoping Touya doesn't decide to make an appearance.

"By the way," She mumbles. "I was serious about last night. Be nice to Touya, okay? You know he kinda has a crush on you."

"What?" You exclaim a bit too loudly, slapping your hand over your mouth.

She shushes you, putting her finger over her mouth. "You'll wake him. He's a light sleeper." She warns. "But yeah, Natsuo read his diary last week and told me. I think I kinda knew though, since he's so emotionally constipated." She softly chuckles, lightly shaking the migraine medication into her palm.

"What the fuck, Fuyumi?" Your mouth hung open. "Diary? You tell me this now?"

"Well I didn't realize how much you disliked him." She smiles. "Just thought you should know. We'll talk more later, though. I'm going back to sleep. Think about it, and have a good shower."

"Okay.. thanks." You mumble, closing the door behind her.

If you really wanted to, you could let yourself feel mortified for Touya and make an agreement to pretend like that conversation didn't just happen, but you could feel the disgusting pride and ego growing larger by the second as you digested this new information.

Touya rips the shower curtain to the side, stepping out of the shower with a new layer of blush dusted over his cheeks and his wide eyes filled with embarrassment.

"Shut up." He huffs, running a hand through his hair.

"Didn't say anything." You shrug, pressing your lips together to suppress a smirk.

"Keep it that way, then."

He begins to make his way towards the door, in which you promptly block with your body.

"Y/N. Move." He demands, one hand on the handle and the other pressed against the door next to your head.

"Guess I got you figured out after all. You write about me in your diary often?" Your let your smirk grow. "You'd have better luck if you were nicer to your crush, don't you think?"

You could see that pompous facade of his crumble by the second with the way he bit down on his lower lip, cheeks growing into a deeper shade of red, and eyes darting away to avoid your own.

"It's a fucking journal. Not a diary. Let me out. I'm going to go smother that fucking brat with his own pillow."

"Why don't we unpack this here, instead?" You lean back onto the door, preventing him from pulling it open. "If you like me so much, why are you such a dick?"

A beat of silence passes as he releases a long sigh.

"I-" He starts, staring down at you with a sheepish expression. "don't mean to be an asshole. I just get nervous, okay?" His voice falters towards the end.

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Nervous? How does that make sense or justify anything?"

"Because I can't think straight whenever you're around. Which is all the fucking time."

You didn't think far enough ahead as to how you could navigate this. You questioned if this could even be considered a confession or where things would go between you two when you eventually let him out of the bathroom.

"We were fine when we were kids, though?"

"I didn't like you when we were kids." He huffs.

"So a few years ago? When you started acting like an ass?"

"I guess." He mutters. "Can you move over now?"

"I give you one chance." You cross your arms.

"Huh?"

"To apologize, confess and ask me out. Properly."

"Right now?" His eyes widened, mouth gaped open.

"Yup, or forever hold your peace and watch me get with one of your cousins or something."

"You'd actually go out with me?" He asks under his breath.

"Ask me and find out." You shrug.

He pressed his lips together, continuing to stare down at you with furrowed brows- of course you stared back in annoyance. You thought that he already had the easy way out, thanks to Fuyumi, so this hesitation only made you more anxious.

A voice in the back of your head had started pounding through the front. It was your 10 year old self. They're making your stomach twist in anticipation. They're making your heart race. They're making your hands clam up. They're hoping he'd do it.

But he wasn't.

"Okay, guess not then. I'm leaving." You suddenly blurt out, turning to grab the handle.

"Wait." He places his hand over the door frame, preventing it from pulling open. "Give me a fucking second okay? I feel like I can barely breathe."

He puts both hands on your shoulder, expelling a long breath of air to the side. You tense at the sudden physical contact, feeling the warmth of the palms of his hands melt into you.

"I'm sorry for being a dick to you. I'm sorry for not knowing how to act around you. I'm not sure I deserve it, but can you... give me a chance?" He spills out through clenched teeth, all in one breath.

His face was still flushed and expression was almost pained. You knew you backed him up in a corner but if he had this crush for a few years, was he ever planning on telling you?

"I know you had a crush on me when we first met as kids, and I know you definitely don't anymore, but if you want to give me a chance then I guess that would be.. cool." He sheepishly says, sucking in the inside of his cheek.

"You guess?" You cock your head to the side.

"You're fucking killing me, Y/N. That's seriously the best I can do at 7am right now." He deadpans. "Yes or no- before I start panicking."

You pause for a moment, taking in the weight of his hands on your shoulder and intense eye contact.

"I'll go out with you."

"Really?" His eyes widen, and grip tightening. "After everything? You will?"

You nod your head, slightly taken off guard by his surprise.

"Cool. Cool. Okay." He takes a step back, bringing his hands back to his side and shoving them in his pajama pants pocket, giving you space to take your exit. "Um. I'll keep you updated on that date then? When I figure it out?" He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"Cool." You say, still standing idly.

"Cool." He responds, pressing his lips together in a tight line

"Don't make it weird, okay?" You huff. "I don't want to tell Fuy yet."

"No weirdness here." He awkwardly smiles, now fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Okay we're done here." You teasingly roll your eyes. "You're being weird, so I'm leaving. See you in a few hours, loser."

You two exchanged shy smiles and glances before you made your exit, letting out an audible breath of air after shutting the door behind you. Later that morning, after his shower and getting ready for the day, Touya would find a beaded bracelet hanging on his bedroom's door handle, reading "T O U Y A < 3" in which he slipped over his wrist and would glance down at all day, reminding himself not to fuck it up.

#mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi #dabixreader #dabi x reader #mha dabi #dabi mha #mha touya todoroki #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #mha touya #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #mha todoroki touya

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ivysprophecy · 2 months ago

Text

slim pickins

warnings; bad date? mentions of sex, cursing underage drinking and yes i meant for it to be written poorly i was trying to keep the humor of the album in the writing

masterlist | p. 2

no pressure tags; @murdockcastleslut @kimoralov3 @arkofblake

word count; 1911

summary; youre tired of not finding a decent guy who will treat you right and lay you right. at least not one you've known since you were kids. however you just cant help yourself. besides its slim pickins out here you take what you can get.

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

i wanna make one thing clear, when i say there are no good guys left i do not wanna hear about you and your boyfriend of three years that can cook and loves your mom.

thats exactly what im talking about maddie!!! i dont give two fucks that he took you to barnes and noble and bought you every book you wanted.

they are all taken. its plain and simple.

which is why even with a full roster, im stuck taking fucking zander, yes with a z, to my friends' kegger.

i mean yea hes cute. hes tall, built but not that gross kind of muscly. but if were being real i shouldve known better when he was joking about being a male stripper when hes a ginger.

and i can tell kie is judging me, rightfully so. her side eye is lethal. when i introduced him to everyone she asked him about his greta van fleet tee and he said he didn't even know it was a band.

needless to say pope had to drag her away.

after that incident i decided it was best if we tried to talk away from the rest of the group. boy was i wrong.

"so what do you like to drink? ill go grab us something," i offer trying to start the conversation, also avoiding the usual problem with taking a drink from men.

"im good with whatever"

i like to think im not a violent person, but im about to be.

"does a beer sound okay?" i ask him grabbing a twisted tea for me from the cooler.

"sure thing." god why is he acting like such a bitch? i should ask him if he's on his period.

i hand him the can, our fingers brush and its my final clue for the night that i am definitely not going home with him. no spark at all. hes done just about everything else to piss me off.

he did the thing where he licks his lips exaggeratingly looking me up and down, making a point to make sure i saw.

he walks so slow for being 6'3.

and finally he tried to mansplain my career to me. i'd had just enough when he opens his mouth again

"ew, you like twisted tea? who likes sweet tea?" his face contorted in disgust, it was about to contort from my fist breaking his goddamn nose if he keeps talking to me like this.

"we literally live in the south dude." my face could not make it any clearer i am so done with this guy.

"still, sweet tea is disgusting. im not kissing anyone that drinks that nasty shit."

"who said i wanted to kiss your nasty fucking mou-" i was interrupted by the sound of a very familiar giggle behind me as his arm wrapped around my shoulder, the smell of his deodorant and sea salt that cover his skin start to put you at ease.

jj was always there when you needed him, sometimes even when you didnt but right now you couldn't be more grateful. "im glad you found those mama i got em just for you. remembered theyre your favorite. right?"

and you wanna know the best part? zander is shaking already pissed off that jj is at my side. territorial i guess.

"you mind?" he asks him nodding his head at me like im not even there.

jj cant help but laugh at him "yea bud i do mind. she's hanging out with me tonight. have fun with your ipa dick." and with that he steers us off to where the rest of the pogues are.

but not before i can look over my shoulder and give the ginger an innocent smile and a shrug as if i had no control over the situation, when really id pick jj over anyone else.

"you owe me a big fat kiss mama," jj whispers in my ear walking us over to where our friends are standing, drinks in their hands laughing and chatting up a storm.

"in your dreams honey."

"every night all night," he quips back before i shove him off me.

now before you give me shit, jj and i have had our fair share of fun, but unfortunately im starting to look for something more serious.

watching john b and sarah be disgusting together is getting to my head. popes got something going on with cleo and im starting to recognize the pattern. and before i know it everyone will be in love if i don't start making an effort in that department.

random casual hook ups aren't doing it anymore, especially considering they aren't even that good.

unless theyre with jj.

but hes not an option, theres too much drama. too much history. too much too much too much. im not what he needs and i know for a fact he doesn't want me in that sense.

is that a bit dramatic? probably.

i mean hes a great lay, he's hilarious, he's got that blue collar kind of muscle, and he genuinely cares about me.

so of course im not going to date him, why would i?

what do you mean make good decisions? id rather do things in the most difficult way possible!

"y/n youve gotta stop giving those guys a chance, im starting to feel bad for you."

"you try finding a decent guy in a ten mile radius." i glare at him, obviously not wanting to joke about this right now.

he sticks his hand out in front of me, "fine i will. let me see your phone."

curious to see what he will do i hand it too him unlocked, he swipes and taps for a few moments, smiling down at the phone before handing it back to you.

when you look back down at the screen all you see is your instagram open with his stupid fucking smiley face on the screen.

he took a picture of himself and posted to my story. written on the screen in bubble letters in my favorite colored heart 'my favorite guy <3'

"i think he's your best bet." that same smile facing back at me now, cockier than ever. so smug i wanna kiss it off his face

i cant help but roll my eyes. "jj im serious! at this rate im going to die alone. every decent guy is taken or unavailable. all i want is someone funny, kind, and attractive is that too much to ask for?"

"im right in front of you mama you dont gotta look far."

"jj we both know we're not the serious kind of relationship im talking about."

"you can think what you want too but ill be here waiting for that kiss you owe me."

"i think all that tequila youve been sipping has gone to your head maybank."

he stands in front of me, taking his signature red cap off his head and putting it on mine smiling down at me, "what do they say in those books you read? you wear the hat you ride the cowboy?"

"this no ten gallon hat and you are no cowboy."

we laugh at each other, its always been easier to do that then actually talk about our feelings. so i put his hat back on his head, backwards the way he i likes it.

"cmon y/n/n, have a few more drinks, relax and hang out and ill make you feel all better later yea? its what im best at, you know."

"its gonna take more than a few more teas to convince me jj"

"what about that thing you like that i do with my tongue, huh mama? doesnt that sound pretty good right now? i think it does."

"i give you one fucking compliment and it goes straight to your head."

"technically its about my head so that makes perfect sense," he hands me another can with that stupid signature smirk of his and his stupid sexy hat backwards. i hate to admit it's working on me.

just like it does every other time.

i squint my eyes at him taking the can, rolling the idea around in my head. "fuck it. its not like anyone else is offering," i take a big sip of my drink.

jj pumps his fist in the air like a victorious idiot giving a few woots and hollars before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder despite my wishes.

"jb!!" he shouts turning around to face him, "we're headed out!"

john b looks at the two of us shaking his head at how im kicking my feet to wiggle out of jjs oddly strong grip. "make sure you change the sheets when youre done!"

oh my god he did not just say that. "fuck both of you!"

jj just laughs carrying you back to the chateau like a kid who's excited to use a brand new birthday present.

"what happened to letting me have a few more drinks before we left??"

"youre just too irresistable mama, gotta have you now,' he gives my ass a light slap for good measure causing me to roll my eyes for the 600th time tonight.

"are you gonna put me down now?"

he pretends to look like hes thinking about it, "i guess. only so i can watch you walk away," he does as he says helping me get my feet on the ground.

"youre a pervert."

"no im flirtatious, and you love it, you know it makes you blush i see it. now go on and give me a lil walk yea?"

oh im gonna kill him...

oh wait! im gonna kill him!

"okay... fine. but no touching until we get home," i smile walking away exactly like he asked, but i know behind me he is a puddle of mud. standing still, about to start begging me to let him.

he finally catches up after a few seconds "mama please- cmon thats not fair. you look too good in those shorts you know i cant wait that long. just wanna feel you."

i cant help but giggle at his words, its honestly adorable how mopey he gets. like i just kicked his puppy or something.

"hands of jj i mean it... not until that door shuts behind us."

it didn't really matter that i can see the chateau or that ill be there in literally a minute.

its actually painful for jj to not be able to touch me as he pleases.

i turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. "you want me maybank?"

and of course he nods so hard it looks like his head is going to fall right off.

"come and get me," running towards the house, i can see the moment when his reflexes kick in, his boots thudding against the ground as he gains on me.

just before i can make it to the poarch jj wraps his arms around me, lifting me a few inches off the ground and spinning me around in a fit of laughter.

"okay! okay okay okay you win- you got me."

"oh ive got you mama, and im havin you for the rest of the fucking night," he presses a kiss to my neck hauling me inside, the screen door slamming shut after us.

am i gonna regret this tomorrow? most likely.

but what can i say? its slim pickins in this part of town.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x gn!reader #outer banks x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fics #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks fics #my writing <3 #short n sweet #short and sweet #fic recs <3 #mama needs her jj #jj maybank need you by my side

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hysteria-things · 11 months ago

Note

please write a story where either chris or matt is veryyyy dominant and can throw the reader around (might sound weird) but like a size difference 🙏

CAMPSITE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you feel sex deprived when you go camping with your boyfriend and his brothers for a few days, and you don’t think you can wait any longer.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, heavy petting, semi-public (?), marking, p in v, degradation, mentions blood, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,038

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: combined these two because they both fit the idea when i was brainstorming! hope you guys like it :)

“is everybody in?” matt asks as he turns the keys into the golf kart ignition. the boys have a campsite on a campground, and you guys have been going camping every few weeks. it’s summertime, so it’s the perfect weather to do things.

the campground is nice. it’s big with other people’s trailers there, dogs and little kids run around from morning to curfew.

doing activities like this is nice to get away from life for a bit, especially social media. having to text people back can be so exhausting.

a seatbelt clicks behind you. “yup. all ready.” chris says.

the sun is setting, and you hear the weekend band playing in the distance. matt’s driving of course, and you’re in the passenger seat. nick and chris are in the back facing outward.

the music starts to get closer as matt drives down the small hill that leads to the main part of the grounds. there’s a dog park, a horseshoe game setup, a lounge, and a playground/basketball court. the stage is just outside of the lounge and the bathrooms are on the other side.

there’s a fire going in the middle of where the picnic tables are. people from around the campgrounds are either sitting or standing by their golf karts, some dogs barking as well.

kids play on the playground and matt finds a spot to park. rainbow beams flood the air from the stage, the band singing whatever country song they’re playing.

fairy lights hang on the trees above. the four of you get up from the kart, heading closer to the stage. not too close, but close enough to get a better view.

the music is loud, people’s voices echoing through your head. cigarette smoke enters your nostrils and the sounds of beer cans opening flood your ears.

you would think this type of scene isn’t for the triplets and you’re not wrong, but something about being in the wilderness is so calming.

matt wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close and swaying to the music. the only downside of this trip is that you can’t have sex.

not to sound like a fiend, but you get sexually frustrated when you go a few days without it. you bite your lip as you start getting dirty thoughts in your mind, squirming in your boyfriend’s grasp.

“you okay?” he asks, a little loud so you can hear him over the music.

“mhm,” you say with a nod.

you put your hands behind your back, reaching towards matt’s crotch. it’s dark enough that people can’t see what you’re doing, but they’re all distracted anyway. however, you’re so close to his body that people definitely can’t see what you’re doing.

you start to palm his dick through his jeans, and he takes an arm off your shoulder and holds your hand still. “stop.”

obviously, you don’t listen, and you move your hand again. he’s starting to grow at your touch, but grips your hand tighter. “stop.”

you look at him innocently over your shoulder, your hand movements becoming faster on his erection. he groans, thrusting his hips slightly into your palm.

“we’ll be right back,” he says out of nowhere, lifting you over his shoulder since he’s so much bigger than you. he walks away before the other two can say anything, and he doesn’t bother taking the golf kart.

nick and chris stare at each other. “they’re going to fuck.” chris says, taking a sip out of the pepsi that he brought with him.

“oh, yeah.” nick agrees.

the walk back to the trailer feels short as you giggle back. matt’s boner hurts like a bitch as he opens the door and goes into the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. “think you’re funny, huh?” he says lowly, immediately taking his shirt and jeans off.

you don’t say anything. except you look at him with doe eyes. then, he starts taking off your clothes. you’ve been waiting for this.

his dick springs out when he takes his boxers down, and it does look like it hurts.

he starts to crawl on top of you but then flips over causing you to gasp. you’re now straddling his lap.

you don’t have a chance to react when he grabs your hips and slams you down onto his cock. you whine as you feel him stretch you out completely. you start to bounce slowly, putting your head into his neck to leave kisses.

matt hisses when you bite down, sucking and marking his neck. you repeat that action multiple times, still bouncing painfully slowly.

he sighs annoyingly, flipping you over once again and pulling you closer by the legs before slamming into you immediately at an ungodly pace.

“matt!” you scream, your nails digging into his shoulders. “f-fuck!”

“you think you can tease me and get away with it? think again, sweetheart.”

you whimper, your back arching with each thrust. you repeat his name along with moans and cries of pleasure.

“or is this what you wanted?” he asks, grunting at the sudden pain in his back as you drag your nails when he hits your g-spot suddenly. “i should’ve taken you right then and there so people know what a fucking slut you are.”

“i-i’m—” your cut off when your legs start to shake, your eyes rolling back when the knot in your stomach is close to snapping.

the scratches you’re leaving on matt’s back start to bleed the deeper your nails dig, and he moans at the feeling. “you’re going to make me cum if you keep doing that shit.” he says through gritted teeth, getting close to his orgasm because he knows he’s making you feel this good.

a shaky moan leaves your mouth when you start to cum around his dick. he grunts as he thrusts into you two or three more times before pulling out and cumming on your stomach.

you pant and quiver, a smug smile on your lips. matt turns his back to retrieve your guys’ clothes, and your eyes widen. his back is red, scratches of different shades running down his bare skin. “your back… is fucked up.” you say between pants.

he smirks. “wouldn’t be the first time.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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fuctacles · 6 months ago

Text

you guys are feral for silly wereshifter Steve AU and I love that | 3 >>

Some meatheads are calling Eddie names again. The dog that's been tailing him appears out of nowhere and makes eye contact with him as it struts over to the group and lifts his leg, pissing all over the fresh wax on their BMW with the determination and focus of a dog that hasn't been outside for the whole day.

"Hey, get your fucking dog off my car!" One of the guys jumps up, but the warning show of canines stops him from shooing the dog away himself.

Eddie shrugs, though he's restraining a smile.

"It's not mine."

Later the dog finds him again as it always does, and he makes amends.

"You are my dog though, right? My good doggie. Who's my good boy?" he asks, scratching the overjoyed dog all over its furry body.

At home, Steve asks Robin to call him a good boy when he shifts, to see if it feels as good. It doesn't. Well, it does, but not in the same way.

It comes to the point when dog Steve spends more time with Eddie than human Steve. To soak in the happiness and love Eddie shows him.

"Is Steve okay?" Eddie asks one day, petting the dog beside him while they take a break from band practice. The rest of Hellfire is hanging out in the garage, with Mike jumping on every opportunity to learn guitar from Jeff and the rest usually following.

"Yeah?" Dustin cocks his head. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"I don't know." Eddie shrugs. "Haven't seen him in a while and you're never mentioning him anymore."

Dustin looks at the dog.

"He's fine. You're overthinking it."

Eddie thinks that might be it, but...

"I know we're not friends-friends but I don't even see him in passing! Hell, Buckley is there to hang out, and he's not!"

Dustin throws his hands up in the air, annoyed with the questions.

"Don't ask me, man! Ask him yourself! And, to be honest," he crosses his arms, glaring at the dog, for some reason. "I don't understand what's going on with him either."

Eddie frowns, looks at the dog that huffs loudly, and looks away with a grunt. He pats its fluffy fur.

"How am I supposed to ask him if he's never here?" he sighs. "I don't want to just corner him at his place."

Dusting looks at him like he failed elementary two times, not high school.

"There's this thing called phones?"

"Oh. Right."

"Jesus it's like you'd die without me."

"Well..."

"Not what I meant!" Dustin goes pale instantly, mortified by his own words.

"I know, kid." Eddie pulls his head down in reassurance and leans into a side hug. "Don't worry."

"He's not picking up," he tells the dog while biting at a hangnail. "Maybe he's at work?" He wonders out loud and goes to the magazine pile on the coffee table. The dog struts behind him. He rummages through the papers under its watchful eye until he finds the Family Video pamphlet. He runs back to the phone with it and dials the number on the back.

"Hi, I'm looking for Steve? Oh, hi Buckley. Do you know if he's home? Okay. Can you tell him to call me when he's free? No, I just wanted to ask him something. Thanks. Bye."

When he hangs up, he's alone in the room.

"Buddy?"

There's a bark from the front of the trailer.

"Sure, sorry!"

He runs up to open the door for the dog already waiting there. But before it leaves, it nuzzles up into his hand, the wet nose and hesitance to leave reassuring Eddie that he'll be back sooner or later. He smiles at the dog, giving him one last scratch between the ears.

"Such a good boy. See you later, buddy."

Steve calls him not even an hour later.

"Eddie?" He sounds out of breath.

"Steve, hi!" He's relieved to hear him and suddenly realizes he doesn't remember the last time they actually talked. "Has Buckley talked to you already?"

"No?"

"Dustin then?"

"No- ah, yeah! He's mentioned you wanted to talk."

He's a bit disappointed Steve hasn't thought to reach out himself but it's better than nothing.

"Yeah, I Haven't seen you in a while, man. What have you been up to?"

"Uh, you know, just... This and that. Doing a lot of... Running. Exercises. You know."

Eddie doesn't know, but he's willing to nod along to keep the conversation going.

"Yeah, totally, you've been busy. Do you want to hang out maybe? Movie night, or, or..." He tries to come up with anything they could do together. "I got a new strain of weed we could test?" He offers.

Steve laughs at that, genuine and relaxed and Eddie relaxes at the sound himself.

"Sure, why not? Is tonight alright? I have a day off anyway."

Eddie's not prepared mentally and neither is his room but he agrees immediately.

"Sure, come over anytime."

"Okay I'll take a shower and I'm off."

When they meet up, everything seems normal. For about fifteen minutes.

Steve jumps whenever Eddie touches him, and his face is red, making Eddie look at him worriedly and ask if he's alright.

But all Steve can think about is “good boy” and belly scratches. When his leg twitches when Eddie touches his shoulder, he jumps off the couch, mortified by his body's reactions.

"Do you have a dog?!" he almost yells, looking around in panic.

Eddie blinks at him.

"Uh, no?" But then he frowns. "I mean, there is a dog," he corrects, and his brows crease in worry. "Wait, are you allergic?"

"Yes!" Steve points his finger at him. "I gotta go, man, sorry, I'm itching all over," he spits out fast, walking backward toward the exit and almost running into a wall. "But it was great seeing you, uh, bye!"

The doors slam shut and Eddie's left alone and confused, the reality show host still yelling from the screen.

#steddie #werewolf steve harrington #shapeshifter steve harrington #wereshifter au #mine #steddie fluff #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #its a little all over the place but i wanted to share since ive seen yall reblogging this au again

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headkiss · 2 years ago

Text

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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heart-eyed-love · 14 days ago

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Winston

Summary | A stray that wonders the trailer park, that you’ve claimed as yours, as gone missing

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers (eventually), Cursing, Cute kitty, Mentions of Dealer Eddie, Psycho kids attempt to hurt the kitty :(

Pairing | BestFriend!Eddie x BestFriend!Reader

Word count | 2.1k

An | Another cat story cause I love them and I’m cat sitting rn!!! Also sorry this is kinda bad

The boys had decided that their favorite hang out place was Eddie’s trailer. Much to your dismay, cause sometimes they apparently wanted boy time and you had to sit in your own trailer like it didn’t affect you.

It had taken you awhile to find a friend outside of Eddie, excluding the rest of the boys, but as of this year Nancy and her friend Barb had become some nice acquaintances of yours. Nice enough you’ve even recently been invited to a slumber party with the two at Nancy’s house.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t still want to hang out with the boys when they came around, but you let them have their time. And from the sound of it, it has something to do with the band they had recently established. You could hear eddie’s guitar from out on your porch where you sat next to a can of cat food you had bought for the special cat you had come quite close with.

Eddie had informed you he was a stray that had been abandoned by one of the previous owners of one of the trailers. You teared up at the thought of someone leaving him behind, which Eddie had teased you about being so sensitive when it came to animals.

That earned him a glare and quick snap from you, “since when isn’t it sad to be abandoned?” He shut up after that.

You had begged your mother to let you keep him, promising to take care of him, and that you’d pay for all the things he needed with your own money. But she didn’t hesitate to say no, and after begging for a full week after coming across the cat you’d accept your fate, and settled for making a small bedding area around the side of your trailer and feeding him as often as you could.

You had informed Eddie that he’d now be called Winston.

Which is what you were currently trying to do, even with a small pout on your face as you stared at Eddie’s trailer across from yours.

You’re a bit preoccupied by boredom to realize that it has taken Winston quite a bit longer to arrive at his food than he normally did. You had a system that you both seemed to know pretty well, once you came home you’d come back outside with something to eat for the sweet old guy, he seemed to surprisingly be pretty aware of the time frame too.

But as the time went on you began very aware of the lack of cuddly creature you came to love so much.

You stand from your spot on the porch, “Winston?” You called you looking around in front of you. He didn’t come though. You hop down and venture to the padded box that was tucked a bit under your trailer but it was empty, you furrowed your brows slightly.

You felt silly for already being worried but you couldn’t help it, he wasn't some young, nimble cat that enjoyed running around and playing. He liked sleeping, scratches, and food. He never passed up on food.

You wandered towards Eddie trailer, sneakily, the last thing you needed was then think you were spying. You peaked under his trailer, whisper yelling his name out and not hearing or seeing a thing.

You popped back up and rushed quickly back over to your trailer, feeling more and more panicked when you couldn’t find him, you rushed into your trailer grabbing a flashlight, ready to search under every other trailer to find him. But knowing he couldn’t have gone too far, you were worried he may have gotten hurt somewhere.

After searching under and around the nearest trailers and having no sign of Winston, you got teary eyed when you saw it was getting darker.

You decided you didn’t care for Eddie’s boy time, you really needed his help. You ran up the steps to his trailer, knocking a bit frantically as a tear fell down your check and you anxiously chewed at your lip as you waited for him to answer.

And soon enough he does, “Hey, what’s up?” He asks with a smirk, but it quickly drops as he sees the sadness on your face, “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find Winston… I had his food out ready to feed him and he didn’t show up so I went and looked around for him and I still can’t find, and I’m scared he might’ve gotten hurt and-“

“Hey, Hey, calm down. We’ll find him, wait out here I’m gonna got get the guys, okay?”

You nod and he’s quickly rushing inside. “Hey, so change of plans… We got a missing cat so, we’re gonna have to go look for him, Kay?” He says as he as he rummages through a drawer in his kitchen, grabbing a flashing, ready to look under trailers for a second time just to ensure you have your cat back by the end of the night.

He remembers when you met Winston, He was a skittish cat not appreciating the presence of just about anyone until he met you. Eddie slightly felt like he related to the cat in that way, but Winston had warmed up to him after he discovered he was a friend of yours. He smiled when you had revealed the name you had picked for the old guy, it was fitting.

And when Eddie found out that your mother had told you ‘There’s no way I’m taking in a gross old stray. It’s not gonna end well, Y/n.’ He wanted to offer to take the cat in at his trailer, telling you that the cat could be both of yours and you could come over as often as you wanted to see him, but that idea was stomped out by the fact that Wayne’s was allergic.

So he tried to play his part by helping anyways, he occasionally brings home a bag of cat food for you to give to Winston. And one he had gone as far to get some catnip.

You laughed and joked, claiming he was doing a great job solidifying his place as a dealer.

“What? Why?” Gareth asked, he had now stopped aimlessly twirling his drumsticks.

“Because Y/n can’t find him on her own so where gonna go help her.” Eddie said matter a factly.

“Maybe the cat just need a break from her.” He’s smirking, as if this is a laughing matter to you. Jeff tries to nudge the boy with his elbow before he can get the sentence out, but Eddie already has that glare on his face, the one they know all too well, the one he uses when he needs to shut them up real quick. And it works.

Eddie tosses one of the flashlights harshly at the boy, “We’re gonna get our asses out there and we’re gonna look for that cat until it’s found. Got it?” His tone has all the boys nodding. Eddie makes his way towards the door, grabbing a hoodie on the hanger by the door, and throwing it over his shoulder as they make their way outside.

You stand from your spot on the bottom step, quickly wiping your tears so the other boys don’t see, “Thanks for this guys…”

“Don’t worry about it…” Eddie says as he makes his way down the steps to where you’re now standing, “Here…” He adds, handing you the hoodie he brought out.

“Thank you…” You say as you slip the hoodie over your head.

“Jeff, Grant.“ Eddie nods his head off to the side, “Gareth you stay with her, help her look under the trailer again in case he comes back…” Eddie says.

“What? Why do-“ Gareth freezes yet again as Eddie send another glare his way and Gareth nods his head, “Yeah, okay… well look over here…” He points his flashlight in the opposite direction and begins trailing off, you’re quick to follow behind him.

You and Gareth begin checking under the trailers that you had already looked under, it felt useless, which made you feel even worse for interrupting their night.

“Hey, uhm… I’m sorry… really I didn’t want to have to come and ask for help… I’m just really worried…” You’re voice was sad, and he felt bad for making you feel worse about it. He turned around the flashlight hitting your eyes as you squinted, and he lowered it quickly.

“No it’s okay… I get it. I’ve you that cat with you, seems like he really loves you…” He says softer than before, he turns back around shining his light in more spots, you come stand next to him.

“You think…?” You duck down where he’s shining the flashlight to check under this trailer.

“Yeah, totally… I have a cat, you know?” Causing you to pop up from where you were crouched, looking at him with a small smile. He thinks it the first time he’s seen you smile since you’ve come over to Eddie’s.

“Really?”

“Yeah, her names Coco. She’s a little diva…” He says as he look over at you, and now there’s a genuine smile on your face, “We’ll find him, okay?”

You nod softly, “Okay…”

On the other side of the trailer park Eddie can hear the chatter of what sounds like some younger kids, maybe a couple years younger than his own group.

He has been acquainted with these boys before, they were fucking nuisances in his eyes. Constantly being a pain in the asses of people within the trailer park, but they stayed away from Eddie, which in turn meant they stayed clear of you as well.

As Eddie approached the kids ready to ask whether or not they had seen an older cat, he caught sound of a distressed meowing sound.

He looked over at Jeff and Grant whose eyes widened at the sight and Eddie rushed over to the boys. They were circled around Winston. Eddie approaches fast, “the fuck are you doing?!” He yells, crushing the boys to jump, startled by the voice that appeared behind them. One of the boys accidentally dropped another one of the fire crackers letting it pop onto the ground.

Winston seemed to recognize the voice and quickly ran away from the boys in the gap of their moment of weakness, “nothing we’re… just playing…” one of the boys says, Jeff and Grant could tell that Eddie had an affect on these boys as well, and they’d hardly ever heard him yell the way he just did.

“Playing?! In what fucking world is torturing a cat fun? Don't be psychopaths.” Eddie sounded so pissed. Which is valid, those boys were being insane, “I know where you guys live, so it’s probably best you don’t fuck with the cat again. Got it?” They nod quickly, walking away, throwing more of their crackers onto the ground as they did.

He looked down to where Winston was standing by his feet, the cat didn’t usually get this close to him if you weren’t around, but Eddie guesses given the circumstances this was different. Eddie picked the old cat up and began walking back to his trailer, and on the way back he spotted you and Gareth poking your head under The Smiths trailer.

“Hey, look.” Gareth says as he taps your shoulder, causing you to pop up and follow where his finger is pointed at Eddie holding Winston.

“You found him!” You say approaching him quickly, Winston seems to recognize the voice as he squirms in Eddie’s arm and jumps down, running up to you. You kneel down picking the cat, “thank you…” You say, looking at Eddie as tearing up again, “thank you all, honestly… I really appreciate…”

“It’s no problem…” Eddie shrugs, trying to play off how happy he feels for helping you.

You turn to Gareth, “And thanks for making me feel better… sorry to interrupt your… band practice?”

“Not really a practice, more so us having to sit around and listen to Eddie play guitar…” Gareth says with a smirk, and he catches Eddie raised brow look.

“You’re lucky we found the cat and I’m in a good mood.” Eddie shoves the boy's head as he makes his way back to the trailer, everyone follows behind him and you follow as well, making your way to your own.

“Thanks again, guys!” You wave from your porch, Winston still in your arm. They wave and you go inside.

You’d sneak Winston into your room that night, feeding him treats and scratching his neck until he’s fast asleep.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #heart-eyed-love

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actuallysaiyan · 1 year ago

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You Even Make Me Glow(Virgin!Choso x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, dry humping, making out, premature ejaculation, mentions of vaginal fingering, recreational drug use, Choso is Yuji's older brother, AU/canon divergent, age gap(Choso is early 20s and Reader is 18) word count: 1.7k pairings: Virgin!Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader a/n: Here's a little bday gift for the wonderful @dreadsuitsamus! Happy Birthday!!!

Every time you went over to hang out with Yuji, you’d always see his older brother, Choso. Choso was always reclusive and would keep himself tucked away in his room. You’d pass by his room on your way to Yuji’s room every time. It drew you in, even just looking at the door made you intrigued as to what could be going on inside.

Choso loved to listen to loud music. You wondered if he was trying to drown out the world. The concert stubs and mini band posters that plastered the door to his sanctuary gave you hints as to who he liked in terms of music, so you began listening to the same bands. Yuji didn’t seem to pick up on this, which relieved you. You were beginning to become a little embarrassed about your obvious crush on his older brother.

Then you began to linger near Choso’s door a little more every time you would come over. Your hands shaking as you raised them to knock on the door, but you never had the guts to do so. So instead, you’d fantasize about what it would be like to go past the threshold and enter his sanctuary. You began to imagine what it might be like to become his friend, and maybe more. You figured he’d have some experience with intimacy, and he’d have to show you the way.

At night, when the world is quiet and dark, you lay in your bed thinking of what things could be like between you and Choso. You wonder if he even likes girls like you. Girls who are maybe a little softer than his rough edges. Girls who are sweet and hang out with his kid brother. Despite finding Yuji incredibly cute, you know you want to pursue these feelings with Choso. You need to figure it out if it’s only a crush or maybe it’s something even deeper.

It happens one night, when you’re over for your weekly movie night with Yuji. As the first movie ends and Yuji is pretty much passed out on his bed, you decide to go into the bathroom and get a snack. As you pass by Choso’s room, you notice the door is open this time. Your heart skips a beat, then you scurry off to the bathroom. You splash some water on your face a few times, then you make your way back to Yuji’s room.

“Hey kid,” you hear from inside of Choso’s room. “Come in here,”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you actually heard that or if your mind was playing tricks on you. You look into the bedroom, and he smirks at you. He’s sitting on his bed, the window propped open. You see the smoke swirling in his face before he takes another drag from his joint. He points at you, then crooks his finger to motion for you to come inside the bedroom.

“Yeah, I said come in here.”

You swallow hard, your mind going blank and your mouth getting dry. This was finally happening. Maybe he finally figured out about your little crush. Small steps make you enter his sanctuary, and he gets you to close the door behind you. Then you sit on the bed, careful not to get too close to him.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just hands you the joint. You take it from him, and you bring it to your lips. Just the idea of swapping a little spit like this makes you excited. You take a few puffs off the joint before passing it back to him. When your fingers brush, you have to look away to hide the creeping blush on your cheeks.

The music that is playing is soothing in a lot of ways. It’s a band you discovered through listening to whatever Choso was listening to through his bedroom door. You bob your head to the beat, and Choso smirks when he realizes you like this band as well. Then again, he knows you admire him from afar, so for you to enjoy this band as well was a given.

“You like ‘em?” He asks, playing coy.

You nod your head, “Yeah this band is great. I really like their first album.”

He smirks at you, putting out the joint in the ashtray that sits on the windowsill. The two of you begin discussing music, movies and all other sorts of media you like. You learn that you and Choso have a lot more in common than you previously thought. You’re both buzzing with companionship and the weed is making your senses more heightened.

The conversation dies down, and you and Choso are both eyeing one another. He’s a little shy about all of this; you’re his kid brother’s best friend after all. But you’re so damn adorable. He’s always found you so sweet and kind, but the more you would admire him from afar, the more Choso realized he was attracted to you. And as time went on, this developed into a crush.

He leans in a little closer, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear. With him this close, you feel your heart thumping faster and louder. You look into his eyes, and you see the lust that burns in them. It’s not long before he’s cupping your chin and leaning in to capture your lips in a very sweet kiss.

His hands are shaking a little as he presses you down into the mattress. You’re so small under him, and he’s already got a raging hard-on in his pants. As much as you have been admiring from afar, he’s been doing the same for you. You’re such a beautiful young woman, and you make him excited like nothing else.

“You okay with this, doll?” he asks, the false confidence almost slipping from his facade when you nod eagerly.

“Yeah, this is okay, Cho…”

He loves the sound of your voice saying his name like that. He swears he’s going to keep that sound in his mind forever; something he can use for the spank bank later. He keeps you pinned to the bed, lips on yours once more. It feels so good to be able to kiss you like this finally. You taste so sweet too, like soda and candy.

“Thought I didn’t notice you checking me out, huh?” he asks between hungry kisses.

Your cheeks burn at his words. So he was aware of your little crush. You try not to let on that you’re embarrassed, but your reaction really has his cock throbbing again. He grunts under his breath, and then he begins nipping at your neck. The last thing he wants is for you to find out he’s a virgin and that he’s never had sex before. He’s doing all he can to play it cool. His hands shake slightly, but they do not fumble as he slides them up and down your sides.

This is when you wrap your legs around him, bringing him in just a little closer. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel his hardened length pressed up against you now. He’s really big too, which makes you excited. And now that you’re both this close, Choso decides he’s going to test the waters a little more now. His hips move in a sensual way, rubbing his cock against you. It feels so good, he can’t help the small moan that falls from his lips.

Neither of you say anything else. You just go back to these hungry, teeth-clashing kisses. His tongue is violently thrust into your mouth. The moment it touches yours, you’re both moaning and panting. Your fingers thread through his hair, undoing the updo he usually sports. He grunts once more, this time louder, when you gently tug on his hair.

“Shit,” he pants as you move against him eagerly. He’s trying to slow it all down, but he’s chasing his own high as well. It’s almost a little too much for him to back away from. “Fuck, you feel so good…”

You can barely think straight anymore. Your mind is once again blank from this intense kissing. He sucks on your tongue as his hips grind against yours. You imitate his actions, unsure if you’re actually really doing something to him or he’s just praising you to make you feel like less of a loser.

Choso lets out a strangled moan when you suck on his tongue once again. His balls are drawing up and his breath is coming out in heavy gasps. It’s too late to back down, but he’s trying to pull away to save himself some embarrassment. You cling to him, grinding against him for a little more stimulation.

“Doll, wait—” he chokes out. “W-wait…”

You buck up against him once more, and that’s all it takes for Choso to fall off the edge. With his eyes screwed shut, he humps himself against you for that relief. Pumps of hot, sticky cum begin to fill the front of his boxers. His lips tremble as he lets out the cutest little moans. Then it’s over before he could even take control of the situation. His eyes snap open and he looks so mortified.

“S-shit! I am so so sorry, I didn’t think I would—”

But you cut him off with a kiss. You didn’t think that would happen either, but you weren’t complaining. If anything, you find it super hot that he got that excited just from a little dry humping and making out. He’s confused by your reaction but definitely not complaining. When he pulls away, he gets up from the bed and makes his way into his bathroom to change.

You sit on the bed, trying to figure out what has just happened. Your heart is still racing, and your lips feel swollen from all that kissing. There’s a wetness that’s formed between your thighs that you can no longer ignore. You rub your thighs together for a little relief.

Before you can do anything else, Choso is back and he’s crawling on top of you. There seems to be a renewed sense of confidence in him as he kisses you once more. No longer beating around the bush, he slips his hands into your pants and plays with your panty-clad cunt.

“Now, where were we?”

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fayecreates · 22 days ago

Text

Naked in Manhattan

A/N: pls send requests, i need them for my shitty trip. (A little update 2 days later) im gonna cry my eyes out if i have to stay her for any longer.

Premise: Teen!Vi x teen!reader, being unlikely friends, having a sleepover together and that leads to a bit of silly stuff (NOTHING WEIRD JUST KISSING)

Warnings: uh kissing? Idk, dont read this if you’re like 30 cuz thats a little weird. Probably a wrong description of friday the 13th, i watched it like 5 years ago so idk all i know is theres a sex scene at the start.

Words: 1,481

To put it simply, you were a weird kid. From 1st grade to now you didnt have many friends. It wasnt horrible, it was honestly pretty nice. Less drama to worry about and more time to get your homework done so you can do whatever you want. That was until you met Vi.

She was a pretty sociable person, not like happy to talk constantly, just unafraid of interaction. You both sat by each other during biology, it came to you easily but with Vi it took a little more time… after a while she started to ask for your help. It was never a demand to do her homework, and you could tell that she was really struggling. It started with a few short explanations, to a few short conversations about the shitty teacher, to plans to hang out afterschool. It was all so fast for you, was this even how friendships started? Either way it was fine, not like you could call it off when you’re 5 minutes away from her house.

Your heart raced at the thought of even being in her house. Was it weird to dress up for this? Were your pajamas appropriate? What would her house look like? You sat in the backseat of the car, gripping onto the strap of your bag for dear life, contemplating if it was even normal to be this nervous. I mean you were acting like you were going on your first date, and it’d be weird to date another girl, right? I mean Vi was pretty but wasn’t in a romantic way, maybe… your racing thoughts were cut off by the sudden stop of the car. You quickly got out, making sure you had all your stuff on you.

After talking to Vi’s dad Vander for a little, you sat on the floor of Vi’s bedroom, looking around like you about escape. She had a few posters, most of some boxers you didn’t know and some rock bands you also didn’t know. Her room was messy but you can see that she attempted to clean up a bit. It was a little after 9pm, Vi was talking to her dad about watching some movies on the TV. A part of you wanted to beg to be picked up and the other wanted to stay forever.

“Alright, you up to watch some horror movies?” Vi said with a smirk on her face, holding up a few CDs of shitty shock value horror. You smiled, standing up and walking quickly to living room together.

You both sat on the couch together, a space between the two of you. “Okay… Friday the 13th or Hellraiser?” She asked with a daring look on her face as she held both them up. You pointed to Friday the 13th, i mean you’ve heard about it more so it couldn’t be that bad, right? Vander was out going to the store, and Powder was out for the night by now. Vi put the CD in and you both sat watching. Maybe you spent a little too much time caring about if your posture was bad or if you should hold something, but as soon as the opening scene came on you didn’t know how to act. Seeing the people move in such a manner to mimic sex, you knew it was probably not real but it made you blush a bit. As you listened to the faux moans, you felt weird. You imagined yourself as the girl for a minute, it wasn’t too enjoyable compared to imagining the both of you there. But you wouldn’t do that with Vi, that would be weird, right. Safe to say you stayed silent for the rest of the movie, barely even getting scared if you excuse jumping a few times.

After it had ended you sort of just spaced out. Vi took a notice of that, assuming you were just scared or something. “…you wanna watch something easier?” She said after a second of silence, you just nodded. She quickly got up to look through CDs again, finally landing on Mean Girls to cleanse your palate. Putting in and watching felt a bit better. You both made fun of them and laughed with each other, it was weirdly bonding. The clock hit 11pm, you guys were a bit closer on the couch. You looked to Vi at a funny part, seeing if she would laugh, you didn’t know why seeing her smile made your heart race. Your eyes met and she smiled at just you, but you felt like you were caught stealing something so you quickly looked away.

The movie ended and Vander came back, telling you both to go to bed. You both obliged, even though you shared a small look, knowing you’d stay up until you couldn’t keep your eyes open. You both sat on the floor of Vi’s bedroom, attempting to think of something to do. “Maybe we could play truth or dare?” You ask, it was stereotypical but it was a fun game, theoretically. Vi lit up, like it was the idea of a century. “I’ll start, truth or dare?” Vi said with a smile, holding her pillow in her lap. “Truth?” You were bit unsure, still anxious if all your actions were okay. “Okay… who’s your celebrity crush?” Vi asks with the same smile plastered on her face. You thought long and hard, you couldn’t say some like Kristen Stewart or any other girl, that would make it so tense. “…uh… whoever the actor is for Elvira…” you say, hesitant but you couldn’t lie. Lying would be worse than making it awkward. She looked a bit shocked. “Really? You like girls?” She says like it just unexpected rather than weird. “I dont know… i mean probably.” You say, trying to push off the topic, it wasn’t something for you to decide right now, or you just told yourself that. It was silent and awkward for a moment, well for you. You forgot it was your turn. “Oh, truth or dare?” You say quickly, attempting to completely forget, or at least think of a way to give yourself short term memory loss. “Truth.” She says, her smile still unmoving. “Uh… have you ever dated someone?” You ask, a little hesitant. The warm light of a lamp illuminated Vi’s face, it was covered in scars but it was pretty to you. “No, datings for losers.” She says with a laugh, it was unexpected though. Someone so nice, so pretty, i mean you would totally date her— never mind. “Truth or dare.” Vi says, her voice daring. You couldn’t pick truth again, it’d a pussy move. “Dare.” You said with a surge of confidence. It was a moment of silence as Vi contemplated what dare to give her.

“I dare you to kiss me.” Vi says with a smirk, like she knew you wouldn’t do it. Your face became hot as can be. You froze for a minute, it was so weird to even think about doing that with any girl, let alone Vi. You didn’t know if it was a sudden rush of adrenaline or what, all that you did know was the feeling of Vi’s lips pressed against yours. You held the side of her cheek, as if she would leave if you let go. Vi was surprised, well that was before she responded with ten times the amount of force in the kiss. Almost straight up knocking you down, her hands falling to your shoulder and your waist. After a minute that felt way too long, she broke the kiss. Your insides felt crazy, you had never felt like this ever. Her smile was so wide as she stared into your eyes, your own expression just being plain shocked.

“…was that too much?” Vi asked, you shook your head maybe a bit too much. You started to smile, the warm feeling growing in your stomach. With only the smallest bit of hesitance she kissed you once more, well it was more like a hundred small kisses, but it lasted forever. Her hand that was planted on your waist gently moved upwards onto your ribcage, feeling your heart race. On the other hand, yours were stuck like they were weighed down with concrete. It was awkward, intense as well, she prodded her tongue onto your lips just a bit, as if asking for entrance. You separate your lips a smidge, her tongue quickly entering. It was awkward, you let out a few weird noises, she almost passed out from lack of oxygen. After breaking the kiss, you both sat there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do next.

“Uh… that was nice…” Vi says with a flushed face and a dorky smile. You nodded, you had never once expected to make out with anyone, let alone a girl. It was nice, very nice.

#arcane #vi x reader #vi arcane #vi x you #league of lesbians #LESBIANISM FOR YHE WIN #i wish i had a gf…#im so tired guys

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alexiroflife · 6 months ago

Text

"five more minutes?"

part 2.

college au, grungy!choso, fluffff, beginnings of mutual pining

choso kamo x writing tutor!reader

Synopsis: your last tutoring session of the day catches you off guard when the hottest guy you've ever seen in your life walks into the writing center

to sum it up: you and choso didn't expect to enjoy each other's company so much and your giddy awkwardness shows it

WC: 3,700

Warning(s): none, just you and choso being cute as hell

-> guys i am speechless thank you so much for +2,000 followers y'all are amazing i love you so much

You, in truth, never wanted to be a writing tutor.

Your English professor had recommended you to do so, seeing that you had a tendency to excel in your creative and academic writing courses. Your major in english and the years prior you spent scribbling away the fantasies of your mind in middle and high school certainly were to commend for you exceptional writing skills now, but you find that any time you’re actually forced to put pen to paper instead of doing so on your own will dulls the experience entirely.

You can’t necessarily complain too much because you are getting paid (certainly not enough as a junior in university), but you don’t exactly enjoy the tediousness of having to sit down with freshmen who are crawling their way through their introductory writing courses, fighting to keep their engagement as they try to rush you through your hour and a half appointment- despite how badly they need it.

Writing is an art, and should be treated as such, but god, the way the intro courses are treating it and how the students treat it accordingly truly hurts your soul. Especially because they’re required classes, and people never fare well in classes they’re forced to take. You have first hand experience with that.

You’re almost done for the day when you double check your schedule to see that you have one more slot filled before you can call it a day.

Sighing, you lean back in your desk chair and click on the profile of the boy you’re meant to be meeting with. Apparently he’s in a grade above you working on a seminar. You raise your brow, curiosity striking you. You don’t typically find many upperclassmen coming to your services since they normally already have the writing training that they need and have been crafting enough essays to get the hang of things, or are simply too lazy to be bothered with visiting the writing center.

You don’t have much time to ponder it before there’s a knock on your office door frame, signifying the arrival of the person you are to be mentoring. You look up, and the breath almost flies from your lungs when you see a tall brunette clad in heavy, dark cargo pants, a tattered band tee, and a puffy jacket. His heavily lined, violet eyes meet yours tiredly, though after a few moments, a sprinkle of light flickers its way into his irises upon registering the sight of you.

“I’m… uh, here for my 3:30?” his remarkably deep voice mumbles out as he stares at you pensively, ringed fingers clutching the strap of his beaten satchel book bag. “You’re (Y/n)?”

You blink. “Oh, y-yeah. Sorry,” you clear your throat, hastily throwing on a friendly smile. “Come in. You can take a seat right here.”

You gesture to the chair before you at your desk, and he approaches, slinging his bag from his shoulder to the floor and seating himself in the cushioned seat.

You scroll through your computer mindlessly to relocate his profile and exactly what he is here for, but you can’t deny the fact that your mind is immensely distracted by the presence of the man sitting in front of you. You can feel his pretty eyes wandering over the room, bouncing over you then to his lap. You clench your jaw to prevent yourself from practically screaming, for this kid is insanely attractive in a grungy, silent loner kind of way, and you’re unsure of how you’ll even be able to focus throughout the session.

“It’s Choso, right?” you ask, turning from your monitor to meet his diamond eyes.

He nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah.”

“Okay, cool. Nice to meet you. Why don’t you walk me a bit through what you need help with?”

He releases a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his head and averting his gaze. “I don’t know, my senior sem professor said I needed to work on my paragraph structure for the essay part of the project,” he explains almost disinterestedly. “I don’t really know what she means, so I figured I’d just come here.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Do you have a draft that you can show me?”

Choso reluctantly nods once more, leaning over to collect his bag and pull out a thin stack of papers. He gathers them in his hands and as if embarrassed, slides them across the wood table toward you. You take it from him and briefly skim over the words, the title catching your eye.

“You’re a bio major?” you ask, interest piqued.

“…Um, yeah. I’m writing about blood coagulation… it’s kinda boring stuff I guess.”

“No way, I think that’s sick,” you say casually, flipping through the other pages. “I could never begin to understand that stuff.”

You miss the way Choso’s gaze lingers on your face in momentary, subtle surprise. Your eyes fly up from the page to him again, and he immediately looks away.

You place the papers back down. “I can kinda see what your professor means just by first glance,” you tell him, reaching over to grab a red pen from your pencil holder.

“That fast?” Choso asks, raising a brow.

You chuckle slightly. “I mean, I didn’t get to see everything obviously. I was just browsing, but I do this a lot. I notice you tend to jump from one thing to another without a solid transition.”

“Oh.”

“That’s okay, though. And was it just paragraph structure…? Was there anything else you specifically wanted to look at?”

He shrugs stiffly. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “I’m… less of a writer and more of a researcher. I don’t really- I’m not too good with this kind of stuff in general. I just do the work.”

“That’s no problem. You’ve got the important parts down,” you assure him. “Here, why don’t we move to the center next door? It’ll be easier for me to help you with your paper when I’m next to you instead of sitting across.”

“Sure.”

You believe that you have sabotaged yourself in suggesting so, though moving to a less cramped room is something you always do with your clients. Even so, the second you and Choso seat yourselves beside each other at a rounded table in the next room, with another appointment taking place across the room and rather distant from you, his scent of woody cologne consumes your senses the moment his breeze blows past you with his settlement into his chair.

Your eyes go slightly wide, his arm inches away from brushing yours when he throws his bag over the back of the chair. While he pulls out his computer and gets his papers and notes situated, you sneak a glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He beholds the facial structure of a model, a rather bored, tired energy capturing his eyes but emphasizing his beauty nonetheless. His hair, you think, is styled uniquely into two ponytails, but it somehow complements his aura perfectly. Tendrils of chocolate brown sweep over his forehead and behind his ear, and that is when you catch a peak of a tattoo creeping up his neck from behind his jacket collar.

This guy is too gorgeous for his own good. Part of you doesn’t believe that he is aware of his beauty himself, for he carries himself as though he wishes not to be seen, or more accurately, hardly pays any attention or care to how he is perceived by the surrounding world. He’s reserved, calm, and oh, the way his Adam's apple bops when he clears his throat softly is criminal.

You’re prepared to ask him about his tattoo when you recall that you are supposed to be maintaining a professional, yet amiable environment. To make it obvious that he’s captured your attention and then some would interfere with the entire purpose of his appointment, which he scheduled for academic assistance with you, a tutor.

You immediately avert your gaze when reality smacks you in the face and you shift your focus back to his paper, sliding it under your palm and ripping the cap of your pen rather harshly. Just as you turn away, Choso finds himself peering over at you, but far less sneakily.

He had come here expecting to despise the entire process, for his pride is slightly wounded that he even has to visit a writing tutor, but he refuses to allow his lacking skill in essay craft to debunk his grade in something he is so passionate about, and something that he desperately needs to graduate. Besides, he has come for help early enough in the process for it not to have much of a strain on the final product overall, but when he found you in your office, he hadn’t expected to be working with someone like… you.

He was expecting a stuck up hermit who was prepared to tear apart every single piece of his rough draft that he had thrown together, sneering down at him through round framed glasses and frowning at his sheer inferiority within the English department. Instead, he’s greeted with you; a fresh, friendly and drop dead gorgeous face that welcomes him in with no judgment. Aesthetically, and likely spiritually, the two of you can’t appear more different, but you don’t seem at all moved by his dark presence. You smile at him, and you compliment his work though no one has ever taken him as a guy interested in or withholding the brains of one who desires to study the inner workings of the human body. He half thinks you’re just being nice because it’s your job, but he can’t help but take a liking to you immediately solely because of how pretty he deems you to be.

Not only that, but you guide him through each and every one of his stand points within his draft, circling words, marking down sentences, scribbling little notes in the corner summarizing the main point he wishes to get across and how he intends to prove so with his research. You listen to him after asking him to explain something you don’t quite understand, and your eyes search his honestly as he mutters through his intentions that are yet to be properly conveyed on the page. You then nod along with him and tell him that he makes perfect sense when he talks, then you freely provide suggestions about how he can improve this portrayal of understanding in a different way.

And everything you tell him, he understands effortlessly. You have a way with your words and how you transcribe them into something that can be put into paper. You know absolutely nothing about what Choso does academically, but somehow, you magically transform that unknown into what you do know. You tell him that literacy is universal, so it’s easy for you to take any topic and help him construct it properly for literary intake.

Choso finds himself enraptured by your tutoring. He’s agreeing with you, humming in interest and pointing at the things you write for him, typing away at his notes to record everything he’s hearing. He’s taken by the way your lips move when you speak passionately, intelligently; how your hands swirl animatedly with your speech as you paint physical pictures in the air of what you are verbalizing; how you grin widely when Choso adds onto your suggestions, proving that he is getting a hang of what you are telling him. And above all, Choso can see the joy in your eyes as you help him, how entranced you are by the chance to hold an intelligent conversation about what you have mastered doing and what Choso has mastered doing.

You actually like tutoring him, and Choso can tell because he has come to enjoy being tutored by you within the hour and a half block that you are given.

The two of you only make it through about eight of twenty pages before you somehow get off topic, minutes past your block has ended.

“How long have you been a tutor?” the purple eyed man beside you questions suddenly. You look up, closing the cap of your pen with a gentle smile. You don’t even notice the other appointment in the room leaving, the two of you now completely alone.

“Just for a little over a year,” you say. “I started at the beginning of sophomore year last year.”

“So, you’re only a junior,” Choso observes.

“Didn’t you know that when you clicked my profile on the tutoring site?” you tilt your head.

Choso shakes his head, looking down as he reaches his hand to his keyboard and bouncing his leg. “I… wasn’t paying attention,” he mutters and you laugh slightly.

“You could have picked anybody to help you, then.”

“Yeah, apparently,” he hums. “I’m glad I got you though.”

A certain giddiness captures you as your light smile brightens. “Really?”

“I- just mean, you’re a good teacher,” he adds quickly, brows drawing together. His jumping knee leans over the slightest in his manspreading position beneath the table, leading it to bump against yours clumsily. The two of you look down at the same time, and he brings his leg back in hastily. “Sorry.”

“You’re good,” you bring your shoulders up as you crowd your hands in your lap, his brief contact having startled your nerves. “And thanks. I try my best. I actually had fun during our session.”

He turns to look at you. “You had fun trying to fix my awful writing?”

“No, no,” you chuckle. “Usually I help a lot of freshmen and they don’t really care what they’re writing about, but you really seem to.”

He hums. “I get it.”

“So… why biology? Why blood function?”

“I don’t know. It’s always been cool to me, how much stuff happens inside the body that we can’t see,” he says lowly. “I also… got money to come here in high school for science and all that. It’s kinda always been something I’m good at.”

“You say that like it’s not a big deal,” you raise your brows, turning in your chair to face him completely. He glances at you momentarily from the side, but keeps himself awkwardly forward as he clicks randomly away at the keys on his computer. You can see a dust of pink creeping over his pale skin as he eyes his screen.

“It’s not really. Plenty of people have scholarships and stuff.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make yours any less impressive,” you say, and his blush brightens. He’s so cute. “What would you wanna do with that when you graduate? This is your last year, right?”

“Oh, uh,” he tilts his head back. “I’m looking for work now… but I don’t know, not a lot of jobs in my field would really…” he tries to find a way to explain. His lips tug to the side and his brows angle, hand finding his locks. “...approve of the way I present. I could probably get away with being a lab tech, but if not, I’d do something behind the scenes. Maybe get another job in retail, too.”

You hum, looking over him. “Is it because of your…” you stop to point to his neck. He looks at you quizzically, reaching his hand to where you point. His face relaxes in realization.

“Yeah,” he breathes out a light laugh, and you shiver. “Didn’t know you could see that.”

“Only a little…” you grin. “What is it?”

He takes in a deep breath, looping his fingers over his jack and pulling it down from the skin by his ear. His face is still lit with a pinch of color as he averts his gaze, tilting his chin so that you can see the sharp lines of ink swerving from behind his ear down to his collarbone, a cyber sigilism design.

You gulp, your own face growing warm with heat as you examine the way his muscles ripple beneath the tattoo, his face bored though leg still jittery with nerves.

“I like it,” you say as he releases his jacket and lets it rise to conceal his neck once more. “It suits you.”

He looks at you, pursing his lips. “Thanks. I have a lot more.”

“Yeah?” your eyes dash over his frame out of curiosity.

“You won’t be able to see them,” he tells you, and you snap your eyes right back up to his face. A small smile plays on his lips.

“O-Oh. Right,” you stammer. “How many do you have?”

“At least, like, twenty by now.”

“Really?!” you gasp, rather impressed. “Did they hurt?”

“Only a few, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Hmm. You’re making me think I should get a tattoo.”

Choso’s lips curl into a full fledged grin as he examines you, seemingly amused by the idea. You falter slightly when his teeth reveal from behind his soft lips, a dimple prodding in the corner of his cheek with his smile. “You’d get one?”

You pick up on his slightly playful tone and raise a brow. “Why? I don’t look like I would?”

He shakes his head. “I mean- well, no, but-” he paused. “I guess I don’t look like I’d want to be a medical professional, so.”

You can feel your smile widening, your heart brimming with excitement as he opens himself up to bantering with you. And his smile… you would have never expected such an angelic sight on someone like him. You knew he was handsome before, but now with his eyes shining with humor, his cheeks flushed, and a tumble of shy laughter spilling from his throat, you’re willing to risk everything for a chance to hear him laugh again.

“See?” you muse as he finally closes his laptop.

“Where would you get one?”

“Uhhhh,” you try to think. “Maybe… on my shoulder?”

“Yeah?” he pokes out his bottom lip and nods. “I think you’d pull it off,” he goes to tuck his papers back into his bag, keeping his eyes down as the next phrase falls from his mouth. “Maybe I should take you to get one.”

Your brows jump at his suggestion, unsure of whether he is joking or being serious. He catches your eye when he pulls himself back up, heliotrope pools simmering with that hint of bashfulness as he looks at you through his long lashes.

“Y-You know,” he starts once more. “After you finish helping me with the rest of my essay.”

Your mind clicks when the topic at hand shifts back to the reason why you are sitting with him in the first place. You turn to look at the clock on the other side of the room and widen your eyes when you find that it is half an hour past when you were meant to be finished. “Speaking of,” you start. “We ran really late.”

Choso perks up, following your gaze. “Oh… shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to… keep you.”

“No, it’s okay! Really. I didn’t even notice what time it was,” you say. Choso stalls with his hand on his computer, having prepared to put it away, but something in his mind is making him hesitate.

“So-”

“Did you-”

You both stop, having talked over each other, and you laugh nervously. “Sorry, you first,” you tell him.

“No, you go.”

You oblige. “Well… when are you free next? We can keep working on your draft. Maybe in the library soon if you want a change of scenery? Or not, we could just stay here.”

You don’t know why you’re all of a sudden acting like a child struggling to speak before him. You are meant to be scheduling a follow-up, as you do with everyone you tutor, but somehow it feels as though you’re asking Choso out on a date.

Before you can say anything more, the brunette is nodding before he even comprehends what you’re asking. “Yes. The library is good. Let’s do that.”

You grin, relieved. “Okay. Cool. Great. When-?”

“Whenever,” he rushes. You blink, and he reels in upon noticing how quickly he answered. He turns away. “I mean- whenever you’re free.”

“Next week? Same time?”

He hums. “Yeah. That’s- that’s perfect.”

You go to stand as Choso reaches for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The two of you stand before each other, silence taking you as you find yourselves unsure of what else to say.

You look to the side and notice that Choso’s computer is still sitting on the table. You reach out for it, gathering it safely in your hands and presenting it to him. “Here. Don’t forget this.”

He looks down at the device and his brows lift. “Oh, yeah. Right,” he takes the computer from your hands, brushing his fingers accidentally with yours, before pulling it into his grasp and tucking it into his bag, lowering his head to hide his flustered expression. “Thank you. And thanks for the… the help.”

You nod, smiling. “Anytime.”

You remain before each other for a moment more, neither of you desiring to leave just yet.

“Should I, you know, give you my contact?” Choso suggests, and you perk up. “For next week, and I guess in the future when we schedule other appointments…”

“Oh, yeah! Sure, here.”

You pull out your phone and let him hover over you, his scent invading your senses once more as he types his number into an empty contact. You call it once he is finished so that your number can pop up on his phone, and he leans away. “Got it.”

“Great,” you smile at him. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

You watch his tall figure trudge away, out of the doorway and down the hall with his face into his phone as he works to save your contact. The moment he leaves, you heave out and press your hand to your chest, excitement fluttering through you in the form of butterflies.

Hell. What you would have given to get just another five minutes alone with that beautiful stranger. Maybe he would have asked you to hang out sometime properly.

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