#too much like that twilight zone episode | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lesservillain · 3 months ago

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inmate!eddie munson x reader

cw: SMUT, henry creel is your ex, a threat of violence, divorce talk, baby talks

July 26th, 1996

“It’s been a whole year,” you turn the radio down to better get Eddie’s attention, “we should go out or something! I know everyone was busy tonight, but let me take you to like Enzo’s. Or Benny’s even.”

Eddie leaned for the knob, turning the radio up again. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he yells over the music, banging his head around and tapping his legs along with the beat. “All I need to celebrate is you and whatever that new little number is that you’re hiding under those clothes.”

You turn to him, cheeks feeling hot as you’ve been caught. The smug look on his face annoyed you, “How do you know I’m wearing something new?”

He hums with a smirk. “I saw your bra strap when you were messing with it earlier,” he says as if it was obvious, “I know what your bras look like, didn’t recognize it.”

“You’re insane,” you laugh as you pull into Steve’s empty driveway.

“Hey, not insane, just very observant of the things that are important to me,” he unbuckles his seatbelt, hoping out of the car and trotting over to your side to open your door for you. It was one of your favorite quirks of his, especially because the looks on peoples faces in public when a rough, six foot tall man covered in tattoos opens the driver door for his girlfriend are priceless.

As you start walking to the front door you notice Eddie isn’t behind you, still standing next to the car with an unreadable expression on his face. Normally it wouldn’t bother you since he spaces out every once and a while, mostly when he’s nervous or upset you’ve come to find. But, he’s been acting like this for the last couple of days and it’s starting to concern you.

Your morning drives to drop him off at work have been quiet compared to the usual lively talks you two have. He’s also been staying at work later, calling you to pick him up close to sundown as the summer has gone on. One night he told you he was too tired for you to come over and was going to have Steve pick him up. When you tried to bring it up, he just brushed it off saying that he was just tired from repairing the A/Cs for half of Hawkins cars.

“Eddie?” You ask gently.

He looks at you for a brief moment, eyes barely meeting yours before he starts walking down the driveway. “G-go ahead, I’m gonna grab the mail.”

“Okaaaay,” you say to yourself.

When you enter the Harrington residence, you find it to be dead quiet, which is to be expected since Robin and Steve both had plans for tonight. But, what struck you as odd was that they had left several lights on…

Eddie came through the door a few moments later, his full attention on the stack of mail he’s flipping through.

“Anything good,” you joke, unsure why he’s so laser focused on junk mail. He walks past you, setting all but one envelope on the counter.

“Oh, uh, no-,” his voice is shakey, and you can tell his breathing is off.

“Hey are you-”

“Hey, look at this!” He waves the envelope in his hand, finally giving you his attention. “This says it’s to ‘Mrs.Munson,’ isn’t that weird?”

You reel back, head shaking at the confusion. “Eddie, I thought you said your mom passed? Why would she get mail here?”

He shook his head, “No, it can’t be for her. My mom and dad never got married, so this wouldn’t be for her anyway.”

“What the hell?” You’re totally confused now, “Open it and see what it says?”

He nods, taking particularly good care not to rip the envelope too much. You feel like you’re in an episode of the twilight zone between the letter and his odd behavior today. He pulls out the contents of the envelope, which looks like a single folded piece of notebook paper. He opens it, and you can clearly see the shaking in his hands now. You’re suddenly hit with a wave of realization.

“Eddie, is that from your dad?” You ask, placing a hand on his arm. He won't even look at you, he just hands you the paper for you to read.

The first thing you see is your name.

“What the-”

“Please read it.”

You look at him, but he refuses to make eye contact, body shifting with a nervousness you’ve never seen before with him. When you look at the paper again, you recognize the sloppy handwriting.

Hi, sweetheart. You’re probably really confused right now reading this, and I know I gotta be a nervous wreck right now as I watch you. After a year of spending almost every day with me you’d probably agree that I’m not afraid to say whatever I’m thinking out loud. But, I wanted to go back to our roots for this.

There are times where I’ve wished things were different. Where I could have the time that I lost in that jail cell back. I just wanted to do something for Wayne, but I would have rather had those years to spend with him instead. I missed out on a lot with the kids, and I was sure that the CC boys were gonna kick me out for ruining our chance to make it big.

But if there’s one thing I can say made it worth it was you. You showed me that I can still be loved after all that I’ve been through. You didn’t know me before, but you put everything you believed in aside to give me a chance and I don’t think I could ever express how much that means to me. But I want you to give me the opportunity to try for the rest of our lives. Sweetheart, will you marry me?

As you read that last sentence, you notice your body starts to shake. Nervously, you lift your eyes from the paper, and in the time you were reading Eddie had managed to get down on one knee in front of you.

“Oh my god,” it comes out shakey with a nervous laugh. You have to wipe the tears away as they cloud your vision to admire the ring he’s presented to you. The two of you have never talked about rings before, and yet he managed to pick the perfect one.

Your teary eyes meet his. Those big, chocolate buttons look at your full of hope. It makes your knees weak. You shake your head, “Yes, Eddie. Holy shit, yes.” You let yourself fall into him, arms wrapping around his neck. He squeezes you tight, and you can feel the air leave his lungs as he sighs in relief.

Time feels like it’s still in that moment. Since day one Eddie has made you feel more loved than you ever have in your life. It’s not that you never imagined a life married to Eddie, quite the contrary. You wish you had a dollar for every night that you’ve counted the freckles on his face, wishing that you’d been doing this with him instead of laying back to back with your husband for nearly 10 years. But, the two of you hadn’t talked about getting married. Not seriously that is. He would joke at home, calling you his wife, “Mrs.Munson”,“baby momma,” the latter you thought was because of how much of The Maury Show you two watched together on your days off. Now it felt like a serious conversation you would need to have, a pin to later be pulled.

The sudden sound of the shades moving over the sliding door pulled you out of the moment, and you realize the door was slightly opened. Then, a loud voice from the backyard yells, “GUYS I’M PRETTY SURE SHE SAID YES!” Followed by a symphony of cheers and whistles. When you pull away from Eddie, he’s beaming so bright it’s blinding. And suddenly the sliding door is pushed open and your friends begin pouring in, cheering and congratulating as they enter. Eddie stands as everyone piles in, pulling you up with him. The train of embraces begins as Robin clamps you in with a bear hug. Steve joins in, wrapping the both of you in a big embrace filled with giggles.

You look over and see Eddie and Wayne hugging it out. Wayne’s patting his back, laughing about something Eddie must have said. The kids and his band boys stand around them waiting for their turn. When Robin and Steve finally let you breathe again, Max and Jane are next to congratulate you.

Max sticks out her own hand, showing you a ring on her finger. “Lucas asked me a couple months ago,” she gushed. You grabbed her hand and admired the ring, it wasn’t over the top, very subtle to fit her personality. “I couldn’t tell you though, Eddie was too nervous that he wouldn’t be able to hold off asking if you knew.”

“Oh my god, Max, that’s amazing,” you pulled her in again, swaying her side by side excitedly. You looked over to Lucas, giving him a cheesy thumbs up that made him blush and shake his head.

Next is Nancy and Elanor, with Jonathan standing just behind them. Nancy’s belly pushes into you as she pulls you in for a tight hug, Elanor wrapping her arms around you from the opposite side.

Then it was Wayne’s turn for hugs next, Eddie finally letting him go after giving him a “Let me go boy, gotta congratulate the newest Munson!” When he pulls away, he leaves one arm around you in a half hug and leans in close, but still speaking loud enough for Eddie to hear. “Listen, if you change your mind let me know, I’ll distract him long enough for you to run.”

“Hey!” Eddie shouted over his friends, “Don’t give her any ideas over there, old man!”

After everyone finished making their rounds, the party migrated outside. Sitting around the fire, Eddie kept you planted in his lap, arms wrapped around you tight. While you’re talking, you realize that everyone had managed to flawlessly pull one over on you. Not a single person even gave you the slightest idea what was happening today.

“You don’t remember us looking at jewelry at the mall?” Nancy laughed.

“Nance, that was like, what, 5 months ago?” You shook your head in disbelief, “I barely remember saying anything about what I like!”

“You didn’t have to,” she said with her arms crossed over her bump, “I just watched what you looked at, paid attention to what you scrunched up your nose to and what made your eyes go wide. Then, I reported back to Eddie and let him do the rest.” She nodded to Eddie, who looked bashful at the admission of his friend.

“I picked it out on my own, though,” he said defensively. “Well, Lucas was there, but that was a coincidence.”

You just shook your head, leaning in to plant a kiss on his chapped lips. The whole night your head was swirling with excitement. There was the nagging voice in the back of your head reminding you what it was going to take for the two of you to make getting married possible, but you let yourself worry about that later. Tonight was about you and Eddie, and you made sure to let him know how much you were grateful for him.

“Ooooooh god —SHIT, fuck babe that mouth is-“

Pulling off of him with a pop, you roll your hand around his head and lick from base to tip, making his whole body shudder above you. His grip on your head only gets tighter as you let him sink as far into your mouth as you can handle. Taking his hands in yours, you place them on the side of your head, and when you look up into his eyes you can see his pupils swallow up the remaining brown, leaving two black orbs looking down at you.

Everything with Eddie was so different, but the sex was on a completely different level for you. With him, sex didn’t feel calculated or like a chore. He was so giving all of the time, which took a while for you to get used to when you had gone so long measuring your worth based on being a pleaser. Once when Eddie ate you out and came in his pants, he was embarrassed, sure, but you had almost cried because you didn’t feel like you had deserved how good he made you feel. He wasn’t having that, though, making sure to let you know at every opportunity he could that just being with you was enough for him.

“Fuuuuuuuck baby~ God your pretty mouth feels amazing,” he pushes himself all the way to the back of your throat, holding it for a moment. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes. His hands shift, one settling under your chin and the other gripping the top of your head. He slowly eased out, letting you take no more than a second to breathe before he starts bullying your throat again.

Drool is dripping down your chin, cheeks hollowing around him as he trusts. He uses his grip to pull you forward gently, bending you at the waist. Fully nestled in your throat again, Eddie bends down to grab a handful of your ass, smacking it to watch the recoil. You moan at the feeling, and his cock twitches in response.

“Alright, gotta get you up here now or else I’m gonna bust,” he says as he pulls out of you abruptly, lifting you up from under your arms and tossing you into the bed. You eye him giddily as he tore the rest of his clothes off with reckless abandon, squealing when he pounces on you. Hot and heavy, his hands are all over your body, your fingers tangling in his grown out hair. You know what his next move is going to be, but before he can begin his descent you hold him in place.

“Not, tonight” - kiss - “need you.” ne of your hands snakes down gripping his length, rubbing the tip against your aching clit, your body jumping at the feeling. His head rolls back, any protest dying on his tongue.

“Shit, okay, anything you want, baby girl.” When he takes over for you, there’s a sudden tension as he lines himself with your entrance. He looks at you, and you look at him. Something about the heat of the moment that makes you want to give in to carnal desires, but before he can make a move you lean over, opening the drawer and pulling out the foil. You don’t miss the tight lipped smile he makes as you open it, but when your hands are on him as you slide the condom on, he seems to forget his qualms.

When he finally sinks into you, he doesn’t give you much warning before he’s going at the same brutal pace he had on your throat. “I’m never gonna get used to how good you feel,” the praises fall from his lips, each one stoking the flames inside you. Adding his thumb to your clit has you gasping, orgasm washing over you and leaving you seeing stars.

The chorus of curses coming from Eddie paired with sloppy thrusts signaled his own release. He pulls out, throwing the condom away and flopping boneless beside you, face planting into the pillow. You laugh at his goofiness, still coming down from your own high with hearts in your eyes. Hearts for your fiancé.

You sighed dreamily, taking one if his curls between your fingers, longer now in the year you’ve spent together. His head turned slightly, one eye peeking out looking at your hand. He stared for a moment, until he suddenly snapped his mouth at you, pretending to bite at your fingers. You pulled back your hand and burst into a fit of giggles. He took the opportunity to roll into you, acting like a monster and “attacking” your face with kisses.

“Stoooop you’re tickling me,” you say as you try to push him away. You have to pry his arms off of you so you can climb out of the bed, legs wobbling as you make your way to the bathroom. He reaches out to smack your ass as you do, you flip him off in return.

When you came back to the bedroom Eddie had his pajama pants back on, and was sitting up in the bed with a look on his face that made you worry.

“What’s wrong,” you question, his head snapping up to you like you’d scared him. He shook his head innocently.

“Nothing’s wrong, Sweetheart,” he stuck his arms out in your direction, making fun of the needy way you beckon him to bed most nights. You weren’t falling for it.

“Edward James Munson, don’t lie to me,” your hands are on your hips, standing naked in the doorway. He gulps at the use of his full name. You’re not really sure how to decipher that reaction with the way his body straightened, but that’s something you’d save in your mind for later.

“It’s nothing,” he exhales, shoulders falling, “I just figured, ya know, with us getting married now that we, I don’t know, we would maybe stop with the, uh, condoms…” His voice trails off at the end but you still heard him loud and clear. Grabbing Eddie’s shirt he had tossed aside at the beginning of the night, you climbed into the bed next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He returned the sentiment, kissing your temple before placing his chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry, if it's not something you’re ready for-“

“No, you’re right,” you take his hand and squeeze, “I really only wanted to use them for precaution sake. Not that I thought you were dirty or anything. And I got tested after I found out Henry was cheating, so I knew I was clean, too. It’s — I just figured it was the right thing to do? Right?”

Eddie wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, I think you miss understood. I’m not offended that you want to use condoms, I promise. I was more so talking about…” he shifts a bit, “I meant like, you know, trying for a b-baby.”

A cold chill makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You knew it was coming, knew that you’d have to pull that pin, but you weren’t expecting it to be tonight, not so soon.

Your silence makes Eddie even more nervous, “I mean, only if you want to have kids. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just, you know, with me turning thirty one, I thought that sooner would be better than later...”

Eddie bringing up his age only reminded your own clock was ticking, too. But, even though your clock ticks, the hands don't move.

It was something that you had to face by yourself for a long time, since Henry didn’t seem to feel the need to comfort you, rather ridicule you for your inability to do the “one thing you were meant to do” according to him. When you finally did get pregnant, only for it to end too soon, Henry only made you feel worse.

After a while you convinced yourself to stop caring.

Now you feel like maybe it never happened for a reason, rationalizing that your body was just protecting you from being permanently attached to the bastard. Thinking that way helped heal some of the hurt, but deep down you knew something had to be wrong with you.

“Eddie, why do you think Henry and I never had any kids?”

He stills for a moment, unable to see his face to gauge his emotions. When he responds, his voice has a hint of uncertainty.

“Uh, I honestly didn’t really think about it. I try not to think about you with anyone else, like, ever if I’m being honest.” You gave him a slap on the leg, making him turn his lower half away from you playfully. “If I had to guess, it’s got something to do with him. You like kids way too much for it to have been a you problem.”

Your lip wobbles, because he’s not wrong. You became a teacher for a reason, and you’ve enjoyed the times you’ve gotten to spend with your nephews and Nancy’s daughter. It only makes the lump in your throat feel thicker when you realize you have to say the next words out loud.

“Eddie,” his name comes out strained, “I don’t think I can have kids.”

And then the dam breaks. Sobs wrack your body, both with tears of sorrow and a sense of catharsis as you can finally come to terms with what you’ve been harboring inside for so long. But the tears aren’t all for you, but for Eddie, too. Tears of guilt, knowing that you were broken, hoping that maybe he didn’t want kids and it would be a non-issue. But that’s not fair. You should have brought it up sooner. Would he even want to be with you if you couldn’t have his kids? Would he just look for someone else, too?

Eddie is immediately in comfort mode, pulling you into him more as he lets you cling to him, chest wetting with the tears falling from your eyes. He doesn’t push you to stop, just rocks with you as you let out your grief.

When you finally start to calm down, he’s pulling you away so he can look at you, thumbs wiping away the tears that still sit on your cheeks. He tells you to take some deep breaths, feeling better once you do.

“I hope those tears aren't from you thinking I’d be upset or something,” he said, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. “Because I’m not, and I hope I didn’t come off that way-“

“No! God, no Eddie,” you say shaking your head, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms, “no, I just, I mean— I want to be able to give you kids, if you want them. Really bad, actually. But it’s not a matter of wanting, it’s a literal “I don’t think I can” thing. I only ever got pregnant one time our entire marriage and I ended up miscarrying…“

“Oh my god, that’s terrible,” his big eyes are filled with sympathy for you. “Nance and Jonathan had one a couple months before she got pregnant with Ellie. Nancy was a wreck, and I should have been there for her. But it happened the same week as Wayne’s heart attack, and I couldn’t leave him. It was a cluster fuck of a week.”

You were shocked to hear about Nancy. You’d become pretty close in the last year but she’d never brought it up before. Not that you’d ever mentioned yours to her, either, but you’d never have guessed. Her daughter, Elanor, had become your little buddy at the Harrington get togethers when everyone was drunk, finding a 4 year old to be more entertaining than a slew of belligerent adults.

“But, uh, you did say you got pregnant, right?” He asked with a smile. You nod. “See, that’s a good sign then. It can still happen. Maybe you're only compatible with Munson DNA.”

His optimism wraps around you like a blanket, and for the moment you let yourself believe he might be right. Even if it’s going to hurt in the future.

“So, you’re not going to leave if I can’t have a baby…” You don’t make eye contact with him as you say it. He grabs your chin, lifting your head to make you look at him in the eyes.

“Hey, I’d be happy to get a pet rock with you if that’s what you want. We could try and raise some house plants together, but I’m telling you now that when I tried to grow my own weed it didn’t work out well.”

You slide down the bed with a groan, unable to hide the way Eddie’s words have affected you. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest. To finally get it out there, and feeling confident enough to believe Eddie’s words that he wants to stay with you anyway is an indescribable relief.

He leans over to smother you with kisses again before sliding down himself, pulling you into him once more.

September 14th, 1996

Of all days, it would rain today.

Almost a month ago you had Henry served with divorce papers. You’d taken care of everything, making sure all he had to do was sign. You foolishly assumed that it would be something he’d be on top of, considering it’s been over two years since you’ve been separated. Meaning it's been two years since him and the girl he cheated on you with became official. He married you pretty quickly, and you’d figured he would want to do the same to her before she could get wise and leave.

But, here you are. Knocking on your old front door in the rain to confront your husband on why he insists on making things more difficult for you.

“Coming!” You hear a chipper voice call from inside. You roll your eyes, because of course she has to be here, too. The door swings open, and her face lights up with excitement when she sees you.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” She squeals, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hello, Missy.” You were trying to avoid looking at her, the sound of her voice was enough to grate at your eardrums. But when she stepped to the side, your eyes were immediately drawn to the large bump under her sweater. You just stared at her, unmoving, unsure how to process what you’re feeling in the moment.

“Who’s at the door, dear?”

You hear his voice call from another part of the house. It snaps you out of your trance, the anger you were trying to keep at bay boiling up again. You walk inside, heading into the kitchen, leaving Missy to follow behind you.

“Henry,” you cross your arms as you stand in the entryway of the kitchen. Henry’s head snaps up from the book he’s reading, eyes wide when he sees you, wearing the same face as the day you confronted him about his infidelity.

“Ah, what a surprise,” he tries to recover, putting on the mask of arrogance he always wears. “How nice of you to stop by.”

You roll your eyes at his faux pleasantries, maintaining your stance in the doorway. “I’m sure you know why I’m here,” you cut to the chase, not wanting to draw this out any more than necessary.

“Are you here for lunch? I just got breakfast put away so you may have to wait a little while, but I’m making chicken salad!” Missy walks past you, grabbing Henry’s mug and refilling it with coffee. It makes your skin crawl as you watch. She brings the cup back to him, something that you’ve done many times over, now the thought only makes you cringe.

“Darling, why don’t you go rest your feet? I’m sure your stories should be on soon,” Henry kisses her hand. Missy nods excitedly, leaving the room with a wave to you as she does. As soon as she’s gone, the air in the room is sucked away with her. The facade has fallen, Henry’s face morphing into an all too familiar scowl.

“I’m assuming you’re here because of the paperwork you so graciously had served to me,” he stands from his seat at the table, moving around to walk towards you slowly.

“Your assumption would be correct.”

He peered down at you, blue eyes darkening from the shadow of the bridge of his brow. The intensity of his stare almost made you falter, but you’d been practicing for this, in case he tried to size you up like he’d done for years. You doubled down, remaining still as stone even when he’s only mere inches away. You weren’t afraid of his disappointment anymore.

His lips curled into a smile when he noticed you weren’t folding, nodding his head with a small “hmph.”

“You never returned my call, you know.” Your eyes rolled at his dismissiveness. Huffing out a sigh, you decided to at least entertain him a little bit. He was only going to keep on with this if you didn’t.

“Didn’t have anything to say,” you shrug.

He takes a step back with a slight bow, looking towards the ground, “I see. Was there perhaps a reason why?” He straightens up again, the corners of his lips pulling into a tight grin, “Too busy with another man’s dick down your throat to try and work it out with your husband, perhaps?”

You reel back, completely put off guard by his words.

“And a felon’s at that? Honey,” his tone is condescending, and you feel your fortitude slipping, “you know if you were that desperate you should have just come home.”

Your blood runs hot with every word he speaks. “But I guess you felt the need to prove something to me, or yourself. Doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that I’m not going to be signing those papers.”

Your hands shook, balled at fists by your side. You wanted to swing one, punch him right in his pathetic face and give him a taste of his own medicine. But you couldn’t, you knew that’s exactly what he wanted. And you couldn’t risk the cops showing up with Eddie outside waiting in your car. Henry would absolutely try and pin it on him to get him back in jail. All just to spite you.

Taking a deep breath in, you straighten up, giving him a smug look as you lean against the door frame. “That’s fine, you don’t have to sign them. But, and you may want to listen very carefully to me when I say this. I’m going to make your life a living hell if you don’t.”

The devilish smile on his face drops in an instant, morphing into a sneer.

“If you actually read the paper in full, which you clearly haven’t,” you see his eyes dart to the side to an envelope on the counter, likely the one he was served with, “I stated in my filing that the divorce was mutual. That I wanted nothing from you, and if there was no issue with you signing, then we could both walk away from each other with our dignity. But,” you raise your brows, lips tugging into a forced frown, “if you want to play this game, then let's play. The divorce is going to go through anyway, and I’m sure you know that. You also probably know that adultery doesn’t have much leverage in the state of Indiana. But…”

“But?”

You wonder if it’s the tone that you’re speaking to him in, or if it’s the fact that you’re standing up to him for the first time in your entire marriage that’s making him fume to the point he’s speaking only through gritted teeth.

“But, it doesn’t look very good when you’re using our combined finances to pay for the two of you to go to,” you use your fingers to count as you talk, “Hawaii, Italy, Mexico, which I heard really nice things about the resort the two of you went to. Um, where else, Cancun I think? You also shouldn’t have used the bank account to buy her nice new car that’s parked out in the driveway, which you put in her name for some stupid reason. Didn’t think about that because you paid in full for it, did you? You also probably didn’t know that I still have the ability to ask for the statements for that account even though you closed it. That’s okay, I didn’t know either, but my lawyer is really good and gave me that little tip.”

If it were humanly possible, you know steam would be rolling out of his ears. You’ve never seen rage on him like this, and a couple years ago it would have scared the shit out of you. But you had the upper hand for once in this exhausting marriage, and you weren’t going to let up.

“That’s an awful lot of money that went towards your adultery, isn’t it? And you’d have to pay all of that back to me, on top of at least fifty percent of your liquid assets. Maybe more if I felt like telling them you kicked me to the curb to live in an apartment in the middle of the year when I wasn’t working. So, go head, don’t sign the papers. The person that the dick that you’re so concerned about me having down my throat is attached to and I are going to start looking for houses soon, and it would be amazing to pay cash for one. Hopefully you’d still have enough money to pay all your bills and raise a new baby, but that’s not really my problem.”

In an instant he’s backing you into the wall next to the entryway. It happened so fast you didn’t have time to react, only watching as his fist began to rear back. A million scenarios run through your head in the seconds you brace yourself for impact. Funny enough, you’re more worried about Eddie. Because if you walk out of here with a black eye, you know there’s a possibility he’s going to jail for murder. Fully admitting to it, too.

It’s like slow motion as you watch his hand begin its descent towards you. Remembering what you read in a self defense book, you put your tongue at the roof of your mouth and clenched your teeth. Holding your breath, you wait.

But the blow doesn’t come.

“Henry!” you hear Missy’s sing song voice shout from your-- their bedroom. When you open your eyes, you see Henry frozen in place, crazed look in his eyes as his fist hovers next to his head. Your body tells you to move, in case he changes his mind. Run. Run. Run.

But you’re more afraid of what he might do to her if you do.

“Henry?” Her voice is closer now, and Henry jumps back. His eyes are on the hallway entrance as Missy waddles back into the kitchen.

“Oh, good you’re still here! I wanted to give you this,” she makes her way over to you, handing you a small envelope with your name on it in her handwriting.

“It’s an invitation!” she exclaims, waiting for you to take it. You stand there for a second, looking at Henry, whose face is unreadable at the moment, and then looking back to Missy. After a beat, you slowly take the envelope out of her hand. She claps excitedly when you do.

“Darling,” Henry’s tone is cautious as he addresses Missy. It reminds you of a zoo keeper approaching a lion in its cage. “That might not be a good idea.”

Her head tilts when she looks at him. “Why? You told me to invite whoever I wanted to the shower, Henry. I want her to come!”

What?

You open the little envelope, because there’s no way, right? This bitch didn’t just hand you an invitation to the baby shower for the baby of the man you’re still legally married to. Like you know she’s not the brightest, but this…

You bust out laughing as you read the card.

“This is a joke right? You’re just fucking with me to get a rise out of me, right,” you look at her incredulously.

“Huh? What do you mean,” she looks genuinely confused. It only makes you feel worse because she’s dead serious, and your hatred starts to morph into concern. Henry takes slow strides towards her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. The delicacy in his movements is something foreign for him, at least to your eyes.

“Missy, dear, it’s not… not in good taste to invite her.” The way he speaks to her is not what you imagined. You were expecting him to talk to her like a child, slow and condescending like he tried to do with you. But he didn’t.

“In good taste? Henry, you told me I should try and make more friends. So I’m trying to make friends. I know she’s a lot older than me, but you and me get along even though you’re almost my dad’s age.”

Every word out of her mouth gave you whiplash, like being on a rollercoaster. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this point, so you decided it would be best to just leave.

“Um, I will…let you know if I can go…later,” you start to back out of the kitchen, “I should probably go now, though. So, um, Henry,” He looks over to you out of the corner of his eye. You were expecting disgust as he looked at you, but instead he seemed…dejected?

“I’m assuming that we’ve come to an understanding?”

He’s still for a moment, his eyes drifting back to Missy, “I’ll have everything taken care of tomorrow.”

Relief washed over you, your body easing up after all that had transpired. You gave him a curt nod, then turned on your heels and booked it towards the door.

Just as you were turning the handle, you hear Missy call your name. She hobbles her way to you, and you try not to cringe as she opens her arms to you.

“Thank you for coming by today!” She wraps her arms around you. You let her get it out of her system. “Feel free to come over any time. Henry told me I don’t have to work anymore, so I have a lot of free time if you ever wanna hang out. Oh, would you wanna go with me to look at baby clothes? There’s a store at the mall I’ve been wanting to go to but haven’t had the chance to go yet.”

Every fiber in your being wants to tell her to fuck off, but you just feel sympathy for her instead. At least you have friends. You know Nancy, Robin, Max-- shit, even Steve would be begging you to take him shopping for baby stuff if you and Eddie ever have a baby.

This whole situation feels like a sick joke to test you. Is this what you had to deal with just to have the happy life you wanted?

“I--Missy, mmm,” you’re battling yourself as you speak, brain exhausted from the last hour, “Missy, you don’t have any family that can go with you? Friends?”

“I have family, yeah, but all my siblings are younger. My mom died a couple years ago, so I basically had to raise my siblings myself while my dad worked all the time,” she said the last part came out with mere annoyance. As if being forced to raise your siblings wasn’t something that could be extremely traumatizing for a person. “And my friends are all way smarter than me, so they went to college in other states. I miss them a lot, but most of them don’t call me anymore. Actually, none of them call me…”

Fuck.

“Okay, you know what, fine. I’ll do it,” you spit out, feeling disappointed in yourself for caving in to her sob story, “I’ll go with you. I have some friends, one of them who has a kid on the way, too, who could probably help you. I’ll, um, talk to them and give you a call.”

She’s quiet for a moment, until she suddenly bursts into tears. You panic, not sure what you said wrong, until she trusts herself onto you again, hard belly pressing into yours as she hugs you. Her tears wet the corner of your shirt, and you pat her on the back. Looking up, you see Henry watching the interaction from down the hall. He shakes his head before going back into the kitchen.

“Oh, thank god,” Eddie yells from the car, pacing on the grass next to the sidewalk with a cigarette in his mouth, “I was about to call Hopper if you didn’t come out in the next ten minutes.”

You didn’t say anything, still trying to process everything that just transpired. You get a sick feeling in your stomach when you think about it too hard, so you just let yourself fall into Eddie, burying your face in his chest. Tossing his cigarette since he knows you don’t like the smell of the smoke, he wraps you up tight, kissing the top of your head.

“Do we need to stop at the store for some treats on the way home? I’ll get your favorites,” his words wash over you like a waterfall of comfort, “And we can stop and get a couple movies. Maybe bother Robin and El for a little bit while they work?”

You smile against Eddie’s chest, remembering that everything you’re doing was because of him. When you look up at him, he wastes no time smooching you all over your face. He lets you vent to him in the car, not interrupting as you give him the play by play. You leave out the near miss with Henry, not wanting to stress Eddie out more. He already hated Henry enough as it is.

“Are you actually gonna take her to the mall,” Eddie looks at you with an open mouth smile, the whole situation with Missy just tickling him as you go on.

“Ugh, I feel like I should. I don’t know,” you groan, “What do you think?”

“Well, I want to say that you’re being too nice to the girl who was the downfall to your marriage. But,” he crosses his arms with a shrug, “I’m on her team because she’s technically the reason we’re together. Don’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but if you think it’s something that you can handle, go for it.”

Tears soak the front of your shirt as it covers your face, your body shaking silently as you lay curled into a ball on the couch. Eddie had fallen asleep hours ago, but you couldn’t. You were in your head, dissecting everything about your interaction with Henry. It all started when you started to feel guilt for leaving Missy there, knowing that Henry could be violent if he wanted to. But then you started thinking about how he acted around her. The softness in his touch, his gentle voice. He wasn’t even that sweet with you in the beginning of your relationship.

The fact that he told her to make friends after convincing you to push all your friends away really got to you. Because he knew that if you told your friends the things he did to you that they would tell you to leave him. But he was encouraging her to make friends. Was he not abusing her like he did you? It didn’t seem like it. Missy might not be the brightest, but she also doesn’t seem like the type to not let it slip if Henry were to do something to her.

But then you have to ask why is it different with her? Why did you never get his soft touch, his gentle voice? Was it just because she was pregnant? Did he even love you?

“Sweetheart?”

Eddie’s voice startled you. The click of the lamp had you rushing to wipe away any evidence of your crying, but the sting of the fabric against your swollen eyes only confirmed that you were a mess. Eddie drops to his knees in front of the couch, face level with yours so you can see the way his eyebrows are pinched with concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, princess?” His hand caresses your cheek, thumb wiping away any straggling tears. You take a deep breath in, trying to regain your composure, but when you think about speaking your thoughts out loud your throat goes dry. The sadness bubbles up again, you can feel the damn ready to break the longer he looks at you with those big, brown sympathetic eyes.

Without a word you watch through clouded vision as Eddie stands and walks back down the hall.

Oh, no. This is it.

He’s finally realized that you have too much baggage. That he’s made a mistake and he’s gone to pack his bags to leave. He’ll tell you he’s going to Steve’s to let you cool off, and then he’ll call the next day and say that things aren’t going to work out after all.

And you wouldn’t blame him. You knew that there was no way someone as broken and unlovable as you would ever deserve someone like him. You should have told him no when he asked you to marry him. It’s for the best-

“Are you able to get up?”

You blink away tears. You hadn’t even noticed that Eddie had walked back into the room. When you don’t respond after a moment, you feel his arms slip under your knees and shoulders, hoisting you up and pulling you into him. The sound of water running gets louder as he takes you down the hall, and when he pushes the bathroom door open with his foot, you realize that he’s filling up the bathtub, the only light coming from two candles sitting on the inner edge of the tub. He lowers you down, sitting you on the edge of the tub so he can test the temperature of the water with his hand.

“Is it okay if I undress you?” He asks as he wipes his hand off on the towel he’s set aside for you. You nod, still in a bit of shock at the tenderness he’s giving you. In the back of your mind you know that you shouldn’t be, that this is absolutely something he would do for you. But you’re still in the headspace that you’d learn to escape to when you were with Henry. You can’t comprehend being deserving of his kindness.

Every touch and manipulation of your body as he undresses you feels like he’s taking another layer from your body. Layers of guilt, shame, self hatred. Peeling away the last bit of shed that stuck to you from the bad conditions of the habitat you lived in for almost 10 years. He takes his hand in yours, admiring your ring, your new ring, that he gave you as a promise to love you for the rest of his life. A promise that you’ve heard before, but you wanted nothing more for it to be real this time.

“Will you get in with me?” You don’t look at him, eyes on his hand that holds yours. But you hear him grin, a hum of satisfaction as he stands.

“God, I thought you’d never ask,” he says as he pulls off his clothes with haste. You can’t help but giggle as he struggles getting his foot out of the leg of his sweatpants. His face lights up at the sounds of your laughter. He bends down to give you a kiss, soft and sweet, taking that last bit of sadness with him when he parts.

November 10th, 1996

“Dustin’s house is in this neighborhood,” Eddie says as you drive slowly down the street, the both of you keeping an eye out for a “For Sale” sign. The realtor you’d been working with called you at six in the morning that day to tell you that this house had just gone on sale and it was yours and Eddie’s dream house. She had said the same thing about the 3 other houses she’d shown you, but to her defense you were being extremely picky. After being the only one to clean the house for as long as you did, you knew what was easy to maintain and what you absolutely weren’t willing to deal with. Eddie thankfully was on the same page after making it his responsibility to keep the 4 bedroom, 6 bathroom Harrington house in ship shape for the entire year he had lived there. So a single level home with at least 3 bedrooms was enough for the both of you.

“Awe, it would be nice to live close by for when he comes home to visit,” you’re taking in the other houses in the neighborhood as Eddie drives, trying to gather ideas for how you might decorate the front of your future home.

“Being closer to Claudia would be nice, too,” he says as you slow to a stop at an intersection, “It would be easier to just walk to her house to mow the lawn instead of running across town.”

Driving a few more blocks down, the sale sign finally comes into view, your realtor’s minivan that you’ve come to recognize over the last month parked in the driveway. You pull in next to it, and immediately you’re happy to see a two car garage. The house looks promising from the outside, too. Dark brick, a small covered porch that could fit two chairs, a decent front yard with some space where you can plant some flowers; you could feel yourself getting excited and you hadn’t even left the car yet. Eddie opened your door, giving you a look as he holds his hand out for you to take it.

“What,” you match your smile to his, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he keeps your hand in his as you close the car door.

“Whatever, Munson,” you tease, the two of you walking to the doorway of the house.

The door opens before you can even knock, Chrissy standing on the other side of the exterior glass door. You can tell by the look on her face that she’s very excited to show you the house, hands on her belly bump as she shuffles back and forth giddily.

“Come in, come in,” she squeals as she pushes the door open, stepping to the side for Eddie and you to enter. “I watched you from the window and I can already tell this is the one. As soon as I saw the porch I knew you’d love it. But once I got to look around in here, I’m willing to bet you’re going to want to put an offer in.”

From what you can see from the doorway you were already impressed. The open concept living room and dining room was just big enough that you wouldn’t feel cramped, but not too big that you would hate to clean it. The large window brought in lots of light, making you think back to Eddie’s comment about house plants. Maybe it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

As she showed you around the house more, you were checking off things on your list of needs at every turn. Three spacious bedrooms, master bathroom and a walk in closet, kitchen with an island. The backyard was even fenced in, and you were already mentally mapping how you would set up a garden. Everything was perfect for you, and the look on Eddie’s face makes you think it’s perfect for him, too.

“So,” Chrissy places elbows on the counter, looking at the both of you with big, blue eyes, “Are we putting the offer in today or what?”

Eddie looks at you with wide eyes and a toothy grin, his hand gives yours a squeeze. Your heart flutters at his eagerness. The three of you talk about putting in an offer. Of course there had to be a catch, which was the asking price being ten thousand more than your budget, but Chrissy said that the owners were out of state and just trying to get rid of the property so they didn’t have to keep maintaining it. After deciding on a price, you and Eddie go out to Benny’s afterwards to celebrate.

“Eddie, the house isn’t even ours yet,” you say as you listen to him go on about turning the garage into his music area for him and the boys to play.

“Yet,” he emphasizes, “I bet we’ll be in there before Christmas. Shit, maybe before Thanksgiving if they’ll let us. Not like they need to get anything out of there.”

“We’d still need to get furniture,” you’re trying to play devil’s advocate, mostly to keep from getting your hopes up.

“We can get furniture. And it’s not like you don’t have the essentials at the apartment. We don’t have to make everything perfect on day one.”

“Ugh, I hate when you’re right,” you lean back in your seat, failing at keeping your excitement at bay. “It’s a good thing we ran into Chrissy and James at the mall.”

“Jason,” he corrects as he shovels fries in his mouth, “and me, too. Didn’t think I’d ever be happy to run into Jason Carver again, but I guess fatherhood can change a man.”

“Or, maybe you were both just stupid teenagers back then, and now you’re in your thirties and more mature.”

“You callin’ me old, Mrs. Munson?” The two of you have only been engaged for four months but that didn’t stop him from thinking you were already his wife.

“So old,” you say sarcastically, “That’s why I’m only marrying you for your money.”

“I knew it,” he dropped his fork on the table, over exaggerating his reaction as he feigned outrage.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” you grin, “There is another thing I’m marrying you for.” You look at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip. He drops his act when he understands what you’re getting at, leaning in close to you over the table.

“Just so you know, I thought about how I was going to fuck you in every room of that house.”

You felt heat rush immediately to your cheeks, shifting in your seat slightly.

“I’m having a hard time imagining it, maybe you need to show me what exactly you’d do to me.”

And show you he did.

November 27th, 1996

Eddie thrusts into you from behind, his weight against your back as he presses you into the mattress beneath him. You were still coming down from your own orgasm just moments before when his movements began to falter. His moans in your ear are accompanied with the feeling of his cum filling you up inside for the third time tonight.

Thank god you have the next five days off for Thanksgiving break. There were still piles of boxes to unpack in your new home, but Eddie was determined to christen every room in the house and you were sure you’d need a few days to recover at the rate he was going, jumping you as soon as Steve and Robin left.

He pulls out of you with a hiss. Hands still on your ass, he watches his cum begin to dribble out of you. “Can’t have that,” he chuckles, and you feel his thumb push the spend back into you, making you shutter.

“Eddie,” you say with warning before he got any ideas. His thumb leaves you, but he gives your ass a smack before jumping off the bed. You’re envious of the stamina he has.

He returns from the kitchen with a drink for you, laughing at the position you’ve put yourself in.

“Hey, Chrissy said it works,” you say with your pillow propped under your ass and your feet crossed pointing towards the ceiling, “and they’re about to have their fifth kid so I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sets the glass on your bedside table next to a half unpacked box that he had distracted you in the middle of unpacking,“I’m not gonna argue with that. You want me to hold your legs for you, Mrs. Munson?”

“No, thank you,” you pat his side of the bed, “Just want you to lay with me, please.”

He trots to his side of the bed, plopping next to you on the mattress. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek before he mirrors you, crossing his legs and pointing them towards the ceiling.

“Alright, how long do we have to do this for?”

You roll your eyes at him, “At least 20 minutes.”

“Jesus Christ, 20 minutes? I’m already feeling the burn over here,” he puts his hands behind his thighs, determined to wait it out with you.

The two of you finally get settled under the covers, Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, his hands rubbing circles into your back. You bury your head in his chest to block the moonlight bleeding between the blinds, regretting not putting up the blinds before Eddie got to you. The up and down of his chest as he breathes is making your eyes feel heavy, sleep begins to take over you.

“I love you.”

His voice was low, quiet. Just for you to hear.

You knew he meant it. Because he’s shown you his soft voice. His gentle touch. He’s shown you what love is supposed to feel like, not what you’ve been conditioned to believe it is. Every kiss on your face when you’re anxious and every sweet caress of your body when you’re writhing under him. Every fight that has had the both of you steaming where he puts your hand in his because he doesn’t want to go to bed mad. The way he talks about your future, where the both of you have grey in your hair and his mind wanders, only remembering your face

“I love you, too.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson stranger things #inmate!eddie munson #inmate!eddie munson x reader #inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader #eddie munson x teacher!reader

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doctorbitchcrxft · 5 months ago

Text

Dead Man's Blood | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, daddy issues, mentions of parental death

Word Count: 5022

A/N: Cannot believe we're at the penultimate episode of my version of the first season Supernatural!! Crazy!! Thank you guys so much for the love and support; I truly appreciate it.

When season 2 starts, the taglist will be closed! If you'd like to join and haven't already, please let me know!

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You and the Winchester boys sat at a table in a diner searching for possible cases to take on. You sat at your laptop on the side of the table with Sam and Dean to your right and left.

Dean looked through a newspaper and folded it up in frustration. “Well, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got, Sammy?”

“I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota... here. A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived,” Sam responded.

“Sounds more like ‘that's Incredible’ than, uh, 'Twilight Zone'.”

“Yeah, I agree,” you said.

“Hey you know we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Cool chick, man, smokin'.” Dean whistled lowly. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe someday. But in the meantime we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that,” Sam stated.

“Yeah, alright. How ‘bout you, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home,” you said, continuing to scan the web page before you.

“Elkins? I know that name,” Dean said.

You shrugged as Sam said, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Dean muttered the man’s name over and over.

“Sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first they said it was some sort of bear attack, now, they've found some signs of robbery,” you continued.

Dean took out his father’s journal and began to flick through it. “There, check it out.” He turned the book around to you and Sam and pointed at a contact reading “D. Elkins” with the man’s phone number next to it.

“You think it's the same Elkins?” Sam questioned.

“It's a Colorado area code.”

“Alright, Colorado it is. Let’s go, kids,” you said.

***

You and the boys made your way to the remote cabin of Daniel Elkins and picked the lock to his home. You cringed at the sight of your messy surroundings once inside. Books were everywhere, mad scribblings on stray pages covered the floor, and the furniture seemed to not have been dusted in years.

“Looks like the maid didn't come today,” Dean remarked.

You crouched down at the entrance of the home and fingered something on the floor. “Hey, got some salt over here.”

“You mean protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled the popcorn' salt?” Dean asked.

You gave him a dirty look. “Clearly a ring. Elkins was a player?”

“Definitely,” Dean responded.

You rose to go stand beside the brothers and look over the journal they were flicking through.

“That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's,” said Sam as he flipped through the pages.

“Yep, except this dates back to the '60s,” Dean added.

You led the brothers into another room and took in the shattered skylights. You moved your flashlight around the room and took in the fact that somehow, this room was messier than the other ones.

“Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam said, referencing the damage to the skylights. It seemed there were two separate entry points through them.

“Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too,” the older brother added. He crouched down to the floor.

“You got something?” you asked, crouching beside him.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes maybe?” Sam suggested.

Dean grabbed a page from a notebook on top of the desk beside you and placed it over the spot on the ground. He rubbed a pencil over the top to create an outline. “Or maybe a message.” He peeled up the paper that now had a lot of blood on the back and showed you and Sam the rubbings of the characters. “Look familiar?”

“Three letters, six digits. The location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop,” you said.

Dean looked to his brother. “Just the way Dad does it.”

***

You and the boys found a letter in the mailbox labeled with the numbers and letters from the floor’s message. You leaned over the back seat of the car and read off the letters on the envelope.

“ ‘J.W.’ Gotta be John Winchester, right?” you said.

“I don't know. Should we open it?” Dean turned his head to you.

A knock on Dean’s window came before any of you could say another word. You reared back and grabbed your gun from your belt, pointing it at the sound.

“Dad?” Dean breathed out.

You breathed out sharply as John opened the door and slid into the seat next to you. “I almost shot you, dude.”

He chuckled at you.

“Dad, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” Sam asked, turning to face him.

John’s gravelly voice seemed even more tired and worn than the last time you’d seen him. “Yeah, I'm okay. I read the news about Daniel; I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

“Why didn't you come in, Dad?”

“You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed. By anyone or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.”

Dean looked a little proud. “Yeah, well, we learned from the best.”

“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam questioned.

John nodded. “He was— He was a good man. Taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.”

“Well, you never mentioned him to us.”

“We had a— we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years.” He gestured to the envelope. “I should look at that.” He opened it. “ 'If you're reading this, I'm already dead'... that son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” his eldest son asked.

“He had it the whole time.”

Sam looked at him confused. “Dad, what?”

“When you searched the place, did you— did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?”

You shook your head. “I saw an old case, but it was empty.”

John sighed. “They have it.”

“You mean, whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asked.

John started to get out of the car. “We gotta pick up the trail.”

“Wait, you want us to come with you?” Sam scoffed.

“If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” John rushed out.

“The gun? Why?”

“Because it's important, that's why.”

‘He’s even more of a hardass than Dean.’

“Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” the younger son protested.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires.”

Your heart nearly dropped at the mention of those creatures.

“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out. I was wrong,” John said.

“Damn right,” you jumped in, not realizing the sudden venom lacing your words.

The three men stared back at you, and you shrank awkwardly.

John continued to explain. “Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

Anxiety clawed at your throat. You hadn’t faced any vampires since the death of your family.

***

You and the Winchesters found a decently priced motel to stay in to get your bearings before you went after the vampires. You watched Sam and Dean sleeping peacefully on their beds, but you were unable to get a wink. You and John sat on opposite sides of the table in the room listening to the police scanner.

You admired Dean’s relaxed features. You rarely saw him this at-ease. You wished you could be sleeping beside him, but your own mind was keeping you awake. The eldest Winchester looked over at you and whispered over the hum of the police scanner. “How’ve they been?” he asked.

You sighed. “They’re alright, I think. Been driving themselves crazy looking for you, though.”

He chuckled softly. “I figured they were.” He paused for a minute.

“They need you more than they need me,” you said. “You should stay with ‘em. I’ll be hitting the road in a little while, I think.”

“Don’t,” he said. “They’ll need you when this is all over.”

“What? You’re not gonna stay?” You turned your head to John.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

You were disgusted at him. “Look, no disrespect, but that’s crap.”

He seemed caught off-guard. “And why’s that?” he challenged.

“Sam’s a mess. You walked out on Dean. Your boys deserve their father," you whispered harshly.

“Don’t act like you know me,” he hissed. “Dean’s a grown man. He’ll get over it. Sam, too. I’m not abandoning them; it’s just not safe.”

“Just call a spade a spade, John. Abandonment ‘for their safety’ is still abandonment,” you argued.

“You don’t think I wanna be with my kids—?"

“No, I don’t actually,” you cut him off.

Before he could continue to argue with you, something on the police scanner caught your attention.

“Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41, abandoned car. You need a workup?” the static voice said.

“Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here,” another voice said.

“Sam, Dean, let's go,” John slapped their feet as he stood, his voice still gravelly from his anger with you.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean muttered, though still asleep.

Sam sat up and Dean rubbed his eyes.

“There’s a call on the scanner,” you said.

“(Y/N), did you get any sleep?” the older brother slurred sleepily.

“That’s not important right now,” you told him. “C’mon.”

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“A couple called 911,; found a body in the street. Cops got there and everyone was missing. It's the vampires,” John explained.

“How do you know?”

“Just follow me, okay?” John said, leaving the room.

You turned to Sam who was putting his jacket on. “It’s how they hunt. They lay in the middle of the road and wait for somebody to pull over. By the time they get up close and personal, it’s too late. Then they leave.”

Dean sat up, still half-asleep. “You gonna be okay?” he asked you.

“I’m fine,” you responded. You could tell he didn’t believe you, but you left him behind without waiting for an argument.

***

John was talking to the cops while you and the brothers stood back by the Impala under the cover of the trees. He refused to look at you after your argument, and you refused to speak to him. You wouldn’t engage with a man who walked out on his children and put Dean through so much.

“I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him,” the brunet sighed sulkily.

“Oh, don't tell me it's already starting.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“What's starting?” Sam asked.

John walked up before either of you could answer.

“What have you got?” Dean asked his dad.

“It was them, alright. Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour,” John explained.

“How can you be so sure?” Sam challenged.

“Sam—” Dean tried.

“I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” Sam told him sharply.

“We are,” John responded.

You stood back next to Dean, trying not to get involved in the fight.

“How do you know?”

John handed something to his oldest son. “I found this.”

“It's a vampire fang.”

“Not a fang, teeth. They’ve got a second set that comes out when they attack,” you explained, looking over Dean’s shoulder at the tooth.

“Any more questions?” John challenged Sam.

Sam looked away and stayed silent.

“Alright, let's get out of here, we're losing daylight,” John said. Everything he said was said with authority. “Hey, Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it,” he gruffly spat at his son before heading to his truck.

You angrily stared after the man before looking over at Dean, who grimaced and got into the passenger’s seat.

Sam drove, keeping a close follow on John’s truck. You rested your chin on Dean’s shoulder, looking over the excerpt he was reading about vampires in your journal. He read aloud to you and Sam. “ ‘Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks.’ I wonder if that's what happened to that 911 couple.”

Sam grumbled, “That's probably what Dad's thinking. Course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks.”

“So it is starting,” Dean sighed.

“What?”

“Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year. Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?”

Sam huffed. “No. Look, I'm happy he's okay, alright? And I'm happy that we're all working together again.”

“Well, good,” Dean said.

The younger brother was unable to help himself. “It's just the way he treats us, like we're children.”

“Oh, God.” You sat back in the seat, doing your best to ignore the fight between the brothers.

“He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal,” Sam argued.

“He does what he does for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“Our job! There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, all right. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?” Sam looked over at his brother angrily.

Dean gave Sam a long look before strongly responding, “If that's what it takes.”

Sam shook his head and returned his eyes to the road.

A few minutes later, Dean was on the phone with his dad. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it.” He hung up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

Sam’s frustrated tone was back. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause Dad thinks we've got the vampire's trail,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

“How,” Sam somehow sounded angrier.

“I don't know. He didn't say,” Dean responded.

Sam gunned the engine, and pulled in front of his dad’s truck before slamming the breaks.

“What are you doing, Sam?” you asked.

Sam got out of the car without answering you.

“Oh, crap. Here we go.” Dean followed his brother out of the car. “Sam!”

You just watched from the back seat, deciding not to get between the family’s brawl.

You watched in the driver’s side rear view mirror as John and Sam got in each other’s faces. Dean was trying to pull the two apart, and you could make out some of what they were screaming at each other about.

Sam approached the car again before spinning back around at his father. You often got in fights like that with your own father but more about his treatment of you and your brother. You knew better than to argue his orders.

“You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!” Sam yelled loudly enough for you to hear.

Dean then shoved the two apart, forcing Sam back to the car. Sam got back in the driver’s seat, still enraged.

“Sam, do you want me to—”

“No,” he snapped at you.

“Oh-kay, then.”

***

You and the brothers sat in the trees watching the beat-up barn the vampires called home. Dean stood beside you and cursed, “Son of a bitch. So they're really not afraid of the sun?” as he watched the vampires climb into a car, shielding their faces with their hands.

“Nope,” you said. “Direct sunlight just stings like a badass sunburn.”

“The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day— doesn't mean they won't wake up,” John added.

“So I guess walking right in's not our best option,” Dean said.

“Actually, that's the plan,” John grinned.

You and the brothers flipped open the trunk of the Impala and began grabbing machetes. John did the same with his truck, but his was outfitted with a fancy, automatic, hidden compartment.

“Here, (Y/N).” Dean handed you a rusty machete.

You caught sight of the giant blade their dad was holding. “Whoa, why don’t you have any like that?”

Dean snorted and turned his head. “Wow.”

John paused, closing his trunk. “So, you boys really wanna know about this Colt?”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam.

“It's just a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” John began. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say... They say this gun can kill anything.”

“Kill anything, like, supernatural anything?” Dean breathed.

“Like the demon,” Sam connected.

“Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun, and we may have it.”

“Wait, and you couldn’t tell your kids that why?” you snarled.

“(Y/N)—” Dean scolded, but you couldn’t help yourself.

John just looked at his eldest son. “What exactly made you keep her around for so long?”

“Both of you, stop it,” Dean said. "Let’s get these fuckers while we have the chance.”

You backed off, tension dissolving a little at Dean’s words. You looked between the boys and their father. Their faces conveyed complex emotions you couldn’t quite read.

Silently, you and Dean flanked one end of the barn while Sam took the other with his father.

You and Dean jumped through a barn window and walked around their hammocks carefully. Dean accidentally kicked an empty bottle on the ground, and you froze. You made a worried face and looked over to Dean, who froze as well.

The vampire next to Dean stirred, but didn’t wake up. You and Dean continued on until you found a woman tied up against a pole. You weren’t sure if she was sleeping or unconscious.

“Dean,” you whispered, crouching beside the woman. He came over to you as you began to untie her. You heard a noise behind you, and Dean went over to investigate.

“There’s more,” he said, grabbing something to break the locks on the metal cages a distance away from you.

The woman you were untying began to stir, and you did your best to assure her you were here to help.

The woman awoke and let out an unearthly roar.

“Dean!” you called, shooting up.

“Kids, run!” John called to you after hearing your voice. You and Dean sprinted out of the building, yelling for Sam as you did so. The vampires chased you, but you used the daylight to your advantage. You broke back through the trees and returned to the cars.

“Dad?! Sam!” Dean called. The two then came back up the slope.

“They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John said.

“Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean questioned.

“You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what.”

You knew where John was going with this. You smiled at the boys who seemed confused. “C’mon, Dean,” you said, patting his shoulder. You turned to the Impala, and Sam and his father got in the latter’s truck.

Dean cruised down the road to the funeral home you had found and were planning to break into.

“What the hell was that earlier?” Dean asked frustratedly as soon as the car doors were shut.

“What?”

“With my dad, (Y/N), why would you say something like that?!”

"Look, we got in a fight while you and Sam were sleeping. I just don’t like how he treats you guys,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but don’t. Sam’s enough for me right now as it is,” he responded.

A few moments passed, and you looked down at your hands. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Dean sighed. “It’s okay.” He snorted after a moment. “Not many people would stand up to my dad like that.”

You smiled, eyes still on your hands folded in your lap. “He reminds me a lot of my dad. John and Sam fight exactly how my dad and I did. Steven always had to break us apart.”

“I just don’t understand why Sam can’t leave the old man alone,” Dean told you. “I mean, we spent so fucking long looking for ‘im, and as soon as we find him, he’s pickin’ fights.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get why he’s upset, but I agree that it’s the wrong place and wrong time right now. I mean, despite the fact that I picked a fight with him. Again, mistake on my part.”

“Agreed.”

You let a moment of silence pass before you spoke again. “Dee?”

“Hm.”

“Now that we’ve found your dad, do you still want me here?”

He turned his head toward you. “Of course, I do. You’re not gettin’ rid of us that easy.”

You grinned. “Good. After a year of all this, you guys have become my new normal. I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to being alone again.”

Dean smirked and turned back to the road, pulling into the parking lot of the funeral home.

After a few lies and a bit of breaking and entering, you and Dean were headed back to the motel with dead man’s blood in hand.

“What does that stuff do exactly?” Dean asked you as he drove.

“It’s kinda like vampire food poisoning. Pretty useful stuff,” you explained.

“How’ve you been with this whole thing?” he asked.

“What, the vampires?”

Dean nodded.

“Winchester, are you goin’ soft on me? Since when do you care to get into the touchy-feely?” you joked.

He rolled his eyes in response. “Answer the damn question, (Y/N).”

You sighed, dropping your plucky attitude. “I’m okay, I think. I just— I haven’t hunted any vamps since my parents died. Any time I sniffed any out, I ran the other way. It’s kind of ironic that the one thing I fucking hate hunting has the one thing we need to kill this demon.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well, y’know… Just…”

“There’s my boy. Having trouble with moments of sincerity once more,” you gibed but became serious once more as he rolled his eyes. “I know. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

***

You were surprised to find John and Sam laughing when you reentered their motel room.

“Whew. Man, some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys,” Dean said.

“Get it?” John asked.

You reached into Dean’s jacket pocket and pulled out a paper bag with a bottle full of blood inside it. You handed it over to the eldest Winchester.

“You know what to do,” he said.

***

You hated watching that creature feel Dean up and kiss him, but you knew you needed to let it happen for the sake of getting the Colt from the vampires. You’d already nearly beheaded her when she backhanded him.

Another vampire appeared behind the woman holding Dean in the air by his face, and that was when you made your move. You used a crossbow to shoot both of the vampires straight between their ribs, and the girl holding Dean dropped him.

“Dammit,” she cursed as you approached the group from the trees. “It barely even stings.”

“Give it time, babe,” you told her. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. Should be giving you a nasty tummy ache any second.” You pouted at her mockingly as she began to waver and lose consciousness.

“Load her up,” John ordered you and his sons. “I'll take care of this one.” Moments later, you heard a slashing noise and blood splattering coming from behind you as you finished loading the girl into Dean’s trunk.

***

You met John in a clearing in the woods where you and Sam were setting up a campfire. Dean tied the unconscious vampiress to a tree, and you circled her, fuming.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean told you. “Don’t kill her just yet.”

“I’m tryin’ not to,” you responded, gripping the handle of your machete tightly.

He chuckled at you and turned to his dad.

“Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John commanded.

“Stuff stinks!” Dean coughed.

“That's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes, and you stand a chance of not being detected,” his father replied.

“You sure they'll come after her?” Sam asked his dad.

“Vampires mate for life,” you broke in. “She means more to the leader than the gun.”

“But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time,” John added.

“A half hour oughta do it,” shrugged Sam.

“And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John stated.

The boys began to protest.

“Well, Dad, you can't take care of them all yourself,” Dean said.

“I'll have her,” John replied, referencing the passed-out vampire. “And the Colt.”

“But after. We're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together. Right?” Sam looked at his father expectantly. There was a long pause before Sam spoke again. “You're leaving again, aren't you. You still wanna go after the demon alone." Hes scoffed mockingly. "You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like children.”

“You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe.”

Dean spoke up much to your surprise. “Dad, all due respect, but, uh, that's a bunch of crap.”

“Excuse me?” the older man scoffed.

“You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe,” Dean argued.

“It's not the same thing, Dean.”

“Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?”

“This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive,” John responded.

“You mean you can't be as reckless.”

“Look, I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death… it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't,” John admitted.

“What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die, and we could’ve done something about it?" He let his words hang in the air for a moment. "You know, I've been thinking. I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together,” Dean stated.

Sam nodded as his brother continued. “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it.”

John’s walls went back up. “We're running out of time. You do your job, and you get out of the area. That's an order.”

Dean looked down at the ground, and you watched him carefully as he tried to suppress his rising emotions.

***

After you and the boys freed the people that had been locked up in the vampires’ barn, you went to find John and the members of the nest. You found them just in time because John had been knocked on his ass by the vampire you’d kidnapped.

You and the brothers hurried out of the trees and began shooting vampires with a crossbow. You moved toward the leader with your machete, but he backhanded you and held you in a headlock with his arm around your throat.

You struggled against him as he addressed Dean, who was holding a machete of his own. “Don't! I'll break her neck. Put the blade down.”

Dean hesitated.

Luther tightened his hold on your neck, causing you to struggle more. “It’d be a real shame for her to die.” He dug his nose in your hair and sniffed deeply. “She’s pretty. I’d love having her around. Drop it!”

Dean did as told, and his jaw clenched in fury.

“You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the leader said.

“I don’t think so,” came John’s voice from behind you. The vampire spun you and himself around to face John, who shot the vampire in the middle of his forehead. He dropped you to the floor, and Dean rushed to your side.

You turned and watched a sigil appear on the man’s forehead where he’d been shot as his girlfriend screamed in agony. “Luther!”

The vampire slumped to the ground, dead. The vampiress started toward John, but was pulled away by her friend to get to their car. They took off, wheels screaming and leaving you in the dust.

***

You sat in the brothers’ motel room, having finished packing long before they had as usual. John entered the room and addressed his sons. “So, boys.”

They stopped packing and turned to face him. “Yes, sir.”

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he said crossly.

“Yes, sir.” Sam hung his head low.

Dean argued, “Yeah, but we saved your ass.”

John held his son’s challenging stare, and you swallowed nervously.

“You're right,” John admitted much to your surprise.

“I am?”

If it weren’t for the situation, you would’ve laughed at Dean’s adorably clueless face.

“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So… we go after this damn thing. Together.”

You smiled as the two boys said in unison, “Yes, sir.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @skys-writings @immagods @metalblindbitch @missmieux @yoongi-holland

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

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sidekick-hero · 10 months ago

Text

Carry you

When Eddie opens his eyes, he has no idea where he is.

That should probably scare him, but the only thing he can think in that moment between blissful nothingness and cold, hard reality is "the bathroom at the party looked different." Because he is in a bathroom, that much he can say. There are white tiles everywhere and a roll of toilet paper in front of him and... is that a plastic handrail?

Lifting his head is a Herculean effort, but somehow he manages to do it, even though it makes his stomach turn.

In front of him is a freestanding shower and a bathtub with stairs to get into. The bathroom is huge and sterile, smelling of disinfectant.

As more and more of his senses come back online, Eddie notices several things at once:

#1 He's wearing what can barely be called a gown, cold air hitting his exposed skin everywhere. His back, his legs, hell, even his junk gets more of a breeze than he likes.

#2 He's nauseous, his stomach rolls uncomfortably, and his head is killing him, a sharp pain that's increasing in intensity by the second.

#3 He knows that something is definitely very, very wrong and he can feel the anxiety rising like bile in his throat.

It's that last realization that triggers his fight or flight response and in seconds he's off the toilet he's sitting on, the sudden movement sending him stumbling, his legs wobbling and his head spinning. Everything hurts and he feels so weak. He catches himself on the railing next to the toilet and figures that's what it's there for. Although he has no idea what kind of person would have such a strange bathroom. The last one he was in, at Tim's or Tom's or Terry's party, something with a T, for sure, the tiles had been black and there had been a lot of bamboo furniture and gold accents. It had smelled nice too, vanilla and cinnamon.

He staggers to a door that hopefully leads out of this fucking nightmare. Maybe Gareth or Freak are behind this, to teach Eddie a lesson for ditching them again to go partying when they had to pack up their shit after the show. But not Jeff, he's too nice to do something like that. The next morning, when Eddie arrives with a hangover the size of his ego, to quote Gareth, Jeff will only look at him with disappointment.

Or maybe they just don't care enough about him anymore to pull a prank on him. Eddie can't remember the last time they even talked to him, beyond discussing the bare minimum for their shows.

Leaving the bathroom, he carefully walks down a long hallway with the ugliest yellow linoleum Eddie has ever seen. It hurts his eyes and his stomach gives another unpleasant churning. On his right, he sees a glass door with "Intermediate Care Unit" written in big white letters.

What the fuck?

He turns right and continues down the hall, hoping to find someone who can tell him where he is and why his body feels like it's been hit with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly.

"Mr. Munson, you shouldn't be out of bed," a stern voice calls from behind him, and when he turns around he sees a middle-aged woman in white scrubs looking at him with a stern expression on her face.

Feeling more and more like he has landed in an episode of The Twilight Zone, Eddie looks at her with an incredulous look on his face. "Who are you? And where is everyone?"

She scoffs at his answer, clearly not pleased.

"I am the nurse responsible for getting you well enough to leave this ward as soon as possible, and you would make my job a lot easier if you would go back to your bed." Before he can process the meaning of her words, she continues. "As for everyone else, well, no one else overdosed, so I would assume they're all home by now."

Eddie can only stare at her open-mouthed, disbelief and horror probably written all over his face, because her own face is softening slightly.

"Now come on, let's get you back to bed, you really shouldn't be wandering around."

She gently takes his elbow and leads him to a door with the number 719 on it. As she opens it for him, Eddie sees three beds inside. To the left and right, he sees two old men, both looking directly at him. The one on the right says, "We tried to stop him, Nurse Elli, we really did," in a high, nasal voice that is already getting on Eddie's nerves. "The kid wouldn't listen to us, would he, Harry?"

"Exactly," Harry answered, at least in a deeper, more bearable tone.

Ignoring the geriatric Ernie and Bert, Nurse Elli leads him to the bed in the middle and helps him to lie down again. Only then does Eddie remember that all he's wearing is a thin hospital gown with an open back. Well, he thinks, Nurse Elli has seen worse in her profession than his pale, scrawny ass. Besides, it's not like much of his modesty has survived the last two years of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll that have been his life.

By the time he's back under the covers, his nurse has turned around and is walking back over to the door. A bone-deep exhaustion has begun to seep into his body, slowly dragging him back under, but seeing her walk out of the room gives him a burst of energy.

"Wait! Someone needs to tell me what happened. What am I doing here?"

Embarrassment burns hot under his skin as he hears the tears in his voice, but the sound of it breaking at his question makes Nurse Elli stop. She turns back to him and her eyes are much kinder than before.

"The doctor will be with you shortly. He'll explain everything to you, Mr. Munson. I'll let him know you're awake now."

And then she leaves, and Eddie sinks back into his bed in the hope that the next time he opens his eyes, it will all have been just a bad dream.

It was not all just a bad dream.

The next time Eddie comes to, he's alone in his room, except for a middle-aged man who seems to be the doctor Nurse Elli told him would be stopping by.

Doctor Owens explains that he overdosed on alcohol and coke at a party at some music producer's house and had been in a coma for two full days. They quickly stabilized him, pumped his stomach and gave him fluids through an IV. Eddie is lucky he's still young and his system recovered from the shock quite well. When he showed signs of waking up, they brought him down here from the ICU to free up his bed for someone who needed it more.

"If Mr. Harrington hadn't called 911 and told them to come get you, you'd be dead right now, Mr. Munson. I'm sorry to say this, but from what I've heard, no one at the party even cared, just insisted that you brought your own drugs and they had nothing to do with it. Mr. Harrington has also been your only visitor so far."

His words should make him angry or sad, something, but he can't process them. Not when his brain is still struggling to make sense of the first part of his statement, Eddie’s heart racing in his chest.

"Mr. Harrington? As in..."

"Steve Harrington, he says he's a close friend. He's the one who called the ambulance, gave the operator your cell phone number so they could track your phone and get you to the hospital. He's been visiting you every day since. He also called your uncle, because we are not allowed to give out any medical information to anyone outside of the family. Your uncle should be here soon, I called him yesterday to give him an update on your condition."

His mind is reeling, too many thoughts fighting for dominance and one word screaming louder than any of them in his head.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

How... it couldn't be. Not after their last fight. Not after the things he said to Steve. To his horror, he feels tears burning hot in his eyes at the memory. A memory he had pushed as far back in his mind as he could because every time he thought about that night he wanted to curl up into a fetal position and cry.

"You are a lucky man, Mr. Munson. This man seems to care a lot about you, as does your uncle. You should let them help you. And if you will allow me to be very clear with you: You need all the help you can get. You're young, so your body can take a lot. But it's not in good shape. You have an old man's liver, and your spleen and kidneys are showing signs of the abuse you put them through. The echo also showed some irregularities in your heartbeat. If you continue down the path you're on, your organs will fail and you will die, Mr. Munson. Painfully. So my advice to you is to get clean as soon as possible. We have some facilities we work with, a nurse will bring you some brochures."

Eddie could only nod numbly, tears now falling freely from his eyes, his throat tight and his head aching. Everything hurt. Especially his heart.

"Okay, we'll keep you here for two more days until we're sure you're stable enough to be on your own." Doctor Owens tells him, turning to leave and get on with his day, as if he hadn't just dropped a damn bomb on his head. He pauses at the door and turns back to him.

"And a word of advice from someone twice your age who's seen a lot in his time here: stick with people who really care about you, like Mr. Harrington, instead of spending your time with people who leave you lying in a bathroom in your own vomit."

With that, he steps out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

Eddie doesn't know how long it's been since Dr. Owens left. It could have been hours, days, weeks, for all he knows, too deep inside his own head to spare any thought for the passing of time. Lying in a hospital bed, the nausea and pain raging through his battered body, Eddie finally breaks down and lets the thoughts come.

He's lost in his memories, thinking about everything that led him here, alone and in pain in a hospital bed, after nearly killing himself with things he swore he'd never use. Weed was fine, though he didn't indulge much anyway, preferring to sell it and make some much-needed money than to smoke it himself. But coke? Nah, he knew how epically stupid it would be to even try that shit.

And yet he did.

A party to celebrate the release of their first single. One lapse in judgment while flying so fucking high that nothing could touch him. One bad decision was all it took for him to succumb to the effects of the white powder.

The high he felt after snorting his first line had been magical and he's been chasing that feeling ever since, blind to all he's sacrificed in the process.

It changed him, he knows. Every euphoric high that made him talk a mile a minute, overly affectionate, loud and brash and in love with the whole world would inevitably end in a crash. He became irritable and hostile toward the people he loved, thinking they were out to get him. Whenever his friends or Wayne or Steve so much as looked at him the wrong way about his new habit, he would lash out at them.

He became increasingly angry and accused them of trying to control him, of envying him his success and happiness.

That's when he started drinking, too. He drank himself stupid so that he wouldn't have to think about the way Steve was starting to look at him as if he didn't even know him anymore. To forget the sad look in Wayne's eyes or the way his friends had started to avoid him. When he was drunk out of his mind, he could forget the way the Coffin boys had started talking about him behind his back, could ignore the murderous looks Robin kept sending his way.

Thinking back, Eddie felt like everything had spun out of his control so fast.

It's like one day he comes home to Steve, ecstatic about signing their first record deal and celebrating the start of a new chapter with the love of his life by dancing around their living room barefoot, laughing and kissing each other, promising happiness and forever.

Only to throw that love right back in Steve's face the next day by calling him needy, clingy, and full of bullshit.

He claimed that Steve was holding him back and that Steve didn't love him, that he just didn't want to be alone. He also said that Steve still thought he was better than Eddie, better than the town freak, the fuck-up, the trailer trash.

You don't want me to succeed and finally step out of your perfect shadow, because then what would stop me from leaving you, right?

Eddie regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Secretly, he had always feared that his success would cause a rift in his relationship with Steve. Eddie had no desire to leave Steve, because Steve was still the best goddamn thing that ever happened to him, but he couldn't help but feel that he was losing him anyway. Even more so when he had seen Steve's face crumble, when he had seen the exact moment when his heart had broken into a million pieces.

He had wanted to take Steve in his arms and apologize for saying cruel things he didn't even believe. It had been his own insecurities that had caused him to lash out, and he had hurt Steve before he had a chance to be hurt himself.

Instead, in true Munson fashion, he had run away and hasn't seen or heard from Steve in six long months that have felt like years.

Steve looks almost exactly the same as he did the last time Eddie saw him.

That's not a good thing, though. Because Steve had been driving himself crazy with worry about Eddie for months before Eddie had taken Steve's heart and torn it apart right in front of him.

Back then he had the same dark circles under his eyes that he has now. The usually golden skin is still too pale and Steve's trademark hair looks even more disheveled from how often he's run his hands through it. His well-fitting jeans, which once hugged his ass just right, now sit baggy on his too-slim frame and Eddie hates it.

He hates that Eddie could still hurt Steve even after he left. That even from a distance he managed to ruin the only person who ever really loved him besides Wayne. There should be some kind of warning sign on him: Beware, do not get attached, will hurt you.

"You're awake," are the first words out of Steve's mouth, and despite everything, Eddie can't stop his heart from responding to the sound of his sweet voice. Steve sounds tired, weary, but to Eddie's ears his voice is better than any Metallica song could ever be.

He tries to smile at him, but he feels as tired as Steve sounds, so it lacks the usual spark.

"Sure am. From what I heard, I have you to thank for that," Eddie adds, unable to help himself. He still doesn't know why and especially how Steve knew he needed help. If this were a Nicholas Sparks novel, their love would have created an invisible bond that made Steve feel when Eddie needed help.

But this is real life, and no matter how much he loves Steve, there is no invisible bond holding them together. Just an unbridgeable chasm.

Steve is still hovering at the door and Eddie thinks he is fighting the urge to wring his hands. Eddie knows his tells by now and he figures Steve isn't sure he's welcome here. Which is ridiculous, because even at his worst, Eddie will always want Steve around, no matter what crap Eddie tells him.

It takes a lot of effort, but Eddie manages to sit up and lean out of bed to pat the chair next to his bed, his eyes never leaving Steve.

Eddie sees Steve's shoulders slump, some of the tension visibly draining from his body at the gesture, and Steve walks over to him and sits down tentatively.

"So..." Eddie begins, dragging out the 'o'. "What happened?"

Steve looks up from his hands in his lap, obviously surprised by the question. "You don't remember?"

"No. The last thing I remember is sitting on a leather couch with a bunch of people I don't know and don't care about, fooling myself into thinking I was having fun." Eddie has had plenty of time to think about his life and where he went wrong, so he decides to stick with honesty. Steve deserves as much and more. "Someone handed me a bottle of whiskey and I opened it and started drinking straight from the bottle. That's the last thing I remember. The next thing I know, I wake up in an ugly bathroom that smells like disinfectant, my whole body hurts like I've been hit by a train, and I have no idea where I am."

Before he can bring himself to say the next part, it's Eddie who has to look away, his eyes focused on his hands playing with the edge of the blanket.

"They told me it was you who called 911 and helped them find me. They said without you I would have died lying in my own vomit." He swallows audibly, tears burning in his eyes, wondering how he could have cried more in the last ten hours than in the last ten years. "They also said you were the only one who came to see me."

Eddie forces himself to look up and into Steve's eyes as he says, "Thank you, Steve. You didn't... I don't deserve you doing this. Not after..." The words die in his throat and he feels like he's choking on them.

He can't do this. He's a fucking coward, not worth saving. Not even worth looking at someone as good and beautiful as Steve.

There's a crease between Steve's eyebrows that Eddie used to smooth with his thumb and lips every time he saw it, and his fingers itch to do it again.

"You called me," Steve tells him, his own hands playing with the edge of Eddie's blanket. "At the party. You called me from the bathroom. I thought it was a butt call or maybe drunk dialing, I hadn't heard from you in months, Eddie."

Eddie winces at his words, but Steve chooses to ignore it.

"But then you sounded so small on the phone. You called me 'Stevie' and 'sweetheart' and then you started to cry." Steve looks like he's about to cry, too. His eyes are glassy and Eddie gets lost in the way the light breaks in them, gold and brown and green all mixed together.

"You told me you weren't feeling so good, that your stomach hurt and the room was spinning so you had to lie down. Your voice -" And here Steve's own voice breaks, after it had already started to shake badly, and without thinking Eddie grabs Steve's hand and holds it tight.

"I'm here, Stevie. You saved me. I'm okay."

"But you almost weren't!" Steve insists, his voice rising, and Eddie finally understands the depth of Steve's feelings. After all these months, after everything Eddie had said and done, Steve still cared deeply for him.

"You talked like you were dying, Eddie. You weren't drunk dialing, you were calling to say goodbye, asshole. You were telling me all these things that I needed to hear you say for months. But I wanted to hear them with you in the room so I could punch you in the face and then kiss it better. Not like this. Not as your last words over a fucking phone call."

That's when Steve breaks down, the tears finally overflowing and he buries his face on the bed at Eddie's hip, their joined hands pressed against his wet cheek.

"Baby," Eddie whispers, shocked, his own heart aching worse than ever as he begins to run his fingers through Steve's messy hair. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm so, so sorry, Stevie. I never meant to hurt you, but it seems like that's all I did."

Taking a deep breath, Eddie continues. "I don't know what I told you on the phone, but since I woke up I've had time to think about it all. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you. Or to Wayne and the kids, Gareth and Jeff and Grant. If I will ever deserve your forgiveness, but I want to try. I want to deserve it one day. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but... I will go to rehab. I will quit drugs and alcohol, I will clean up my act. And then, if you let me, I will try to make it up to you every single day for the rest of our lives."

Steve slowly lifts his head from the bed and looks at him, searching Eddie's eyes for something.

"Why?" Steve asks, his hand gripping Eddie's even tighter.

There are so many reasons, so many things Eddie wants to say, but in the end there is only one simple answer.

"Because I love you."

The smile on Steve's face tells him it's the right answer, even more so when Steve presses a kiss into his palm. But then he turns serious once more.

"I haven't forgiven you yet, Eddie. You hurt me too much and I need time. But I need you to stop trying to run away from me. I don't want you to go to rehab and clean yourself up before you come back to me. I want to be with you every step of the way. Do it together. Because if you love me, you have to let me take care of you. You have to let me in, Eddie. Let me carry you for once, like Sam carried Frodo when he couldn't go on. Trust me not to let you fall. Please."

"Did you really just make a reference to Lord of the Rings?" Eddie demands and Steve rolls his eyes.

"Is that what you get from everything I just said?"

Eddie sobers up immediately. "No, it just made me fall a little bit more in love with you, and I didn't think that was possible."

"So what do you say?" Steve asks, chewing his lip between his teeth, and Eddie suspects he's not even breathing.

"It's going to suck, Stevie," Eddie says in a quiet voice, stroking Steve's knuckles with his thumb."Are you sure?"

"Yes." No hesitation, no wavering in his voice. It's the same tone, the same determined look on his face as when he told Eddie "Fuck'em," when Eddie told him people in their small-minded town would talk if Steve held his hand in public.

"There's a bunch of brochures of places to check out. Wanna help me pick the least horrible one?" Eddie says, pointing to the table in the corner of the room.

Without another word, Steve gets up to grab them, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie allows himself to hope.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #rockstar eddie munson #cw drugs #steddielovemonth #day 1 #love is letting someone take care of you #my writing

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fibula-rasa · 1 year ago

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Cosplay the Classics: Elizabeth Montgomery in “Two”

“Two” first aired on 15 September 1961 and is the first episode of the third season of The Twilight Zone. Sadly, “Two” is the only episode that features Elizabeth Montgomery.

Montgomery was nearly ten years into her professional career in 1961. She had already carved out a solid resume in television, appearing prolifically on anthology and episodic shows and occasionally stretched her legs on the New York stage. Samantha Stephens was still three years away when Montgomery took her voyage through The Twilight Zone.

In its five seasons, The Twilight Zone was a crossroads of up-and-coming and well-established performers. “Two” paired the rising star Montgomery with Charles Bronson, who had a decade more acting experience in TV and film than Montgomery. Though Bronson was the more established star, “Two” is Montgomery’s showcase.

Read on below the jump!

“Two” relies on minimal dialogue throughout and notably Montgomery only has a single line spoken. The role relies almost entirely on Montgomery’s action/reaction, expression, and styling. The episode begins on Montgomery as The Woman wandering an abandoned city. The first nine minutes of the episode pass with no dialogue, with context given by visual elements and Serling’s opening narration. The entire episode takes place on a small section of city street (at the old Hal Roach studios, conveniently already in disrepair).

We learn through newspapers and magazines that this city is in The Man’s homeland, invaded by The Woman’s nation’s army. Signs of the city’s long five-year abandonment are everywhere, including full skeletons left where they fell. (The macabre element of skeletons is used sparingly across the Twilight Zone and usually in circumstances less grounded in reality than “Two,” such as “Long Live Walter Jameson” and “Queen of the Nile.”) As The Man mulls over his first encounter with The Woman a dove flies up behind him as a symbol of his genuine desire for peace. Through a variety of posters and advertisements, we learn that The Man’s homeland had a culture heavily invested in war.

Collage of the war-related paraphernalia in “Two”

All of that is solid storytelling, but Montgomery’s acting adds an extra something. When The Woman first encounters The Man, Montgomery performs hair-trigger reactivity. Despite The Woman’s dire situation—a stranded foreigner in a decimated country with seemingly no chance to ever return home—her reluctance to trust The Man is significant. Pairing Montgomery’s wordless portrayal of these responses with the jingoistic quality of The Man’s homeland and the notable length of time that the city has been abandoned makes me feel that her feelings might not be a simple holdover of wartime hostility on her part but potentially extended trauma. Perhaps The Woman had previous awful experiences with other straggling remnants of The Man’s military, who may not have been as ready as The Man to give up wartime attitudes in spite of the war clearly being over.

The Woman is understandably acting like a cornered animal. As the episode progresses, The Man tries to be as calculated as possible in communicating to The Woman that he doesn’t want a fight through his actions, turning his back to her, and not retaliating the third time she launches an attack on him. Montgomery, in turn, does a great job of drawing out the cornered animal characterization—alternating between curiosity, hope, mistrust, and open hostility. Montgomery’s characterization gives the role the added dimension that saves the episode from feeling too much like an overly simple fable.

Unfortunately, it’s in executing the fabular aspect of the story where “Two” falters. The opening narration by Serling specifies:

“It’s been five years since a human being walked these streets. This is the first day of the sixth year as man used to measure time. “The time: perhaps a hundred years from now, or sooner, or perhaps it’s already happened two-million years ago. The place: The signposts are in English so that we may read them more easily, but the place is The Twilight Zone.”

It’s established here that the location is meant to be a stand-in for any city in any country, and that the use of English is merely a storytelling convenience. So, even though “Two” is intended as a Cold-War era anti-war statement, they are intentionally distancing the fiction from the contemporary real-world conflict. To create further distance from a contemporary place/time, they establish that the rifles are laser guns.

But, then, that one line that Montgomery speaks in “Two,” seventeen minutes in, is “Prekrasny” or “прекрасны,” a Russian word for beautiful or pretty. This pretty much grinds to a halt the concept that this is a cautionary fable and not a vision of a dark future where the Soviet Union and the United States moved to open warfare. While I’ll admit that the conventions used to establish “Two” as a fable are cheeky and a little on the corny side, the episode itself would have been stronger without the suggestion that The Woman is Russian.

I’m not sure who made the call to use a Russian word. I wonder if perhaps Serling wrote his introduction and he had a different read on the story than its writer, Montgomery Pittman. Maybe Pittman intended “Two” to be more of a dark premonition with a twist of optimism and Serling thought of it more as a fable and the two approaches hampered each other in the final product? This is pure speculation on my part of course, but it’s a black mark on what I think could have been an even better episode than it is.

Regardless, I think “Two” is a strong episode and a fine example of a Serling-esque story written by someone brought on to lighten the load of Serling, who worked himself to the bone on Twilight Zone. I also appreciate Pittman’s confidence to rely so heavily on visual storytelling techniques, taking into account that the high quality at which we watch the show now does not reflect the quality home viewers would have had in 1961. It reflects both Serling and the producers belief that viewers would be fully engaged in watching the show as it aired rather than just passively having it on in the family room while unwinding after dinner.

Elizabeth Montgomery’s performance heightens the whole affair considerably. That’s no shade on Charles Bronson, in fact I think the monologuing he’s given could have come off as unbearably hokey if delivered by a lesser actor.

If you can believe it, this is my very first time cosplaying The Twilight Zone! (Though I did play Rod Serling in a set of sketches in high school. I was as weird as a teenager as I am an adult, okay?) If you didn’t already know, I run another blog called Twilight Zone in Close-ups, examining the powerful use of close-up shots on the show by testing out how much of each episode’s story can be communicated solely by its close-up shots.

☕ Buy me a coffee! ☕

#1960s #1961 #elizabeth montgomery #the twilight zone #Twilight Zone #rod serling #classic television #television #closet cosplay #cosplay #television history #OTD #science fiction #speculative fiction #horror #1960s tv #tv

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 years ago

Text

Safe

Summary: “You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened twenty years ago. It was not your fault. You are allowed to move on. You are allowed to care for other people And no matter how much you tell yourself that she’s only Cargo. You care for her.”

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: G

Warnings: !spoilers for episode 6 of TLOU!, established relationship, mostly fluff, domestic fluff I would almost say, little angst, talking about feelings, comfort, some touching, mention of periods

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new fic updates

It was almost scary how normal everything in Jackson was. The old normal, not the new normal.

The moment you had seen the fully decorated christmas tree you felt like you were in the twilight zone.

You had arrived earlier with Joel and Ellie on horseback, almost making Joel laugh as you sang “Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson, Look out, Jackson town,” against his ear, fully intending to bully him into singing the Johnny Cash song at some point when you found a guitar for him.

If you were honest you would have never thought you actually would find Tommy. Then again you should know better by now.

Joel Miller could not be stopped once he set his mind towards something.

You had given them space.

Time for them to catch up and talk.

Something in Joel had changed after Kansas City. More than once you had caught him staring at Ellie when he thought nobody was watching.

You knew why.

This was not just a job anymore or a promise to fulfil.

He was starting to care.

Years ago when you had come into his life, it had been the same. Once he realised that he was starting to feel something for you.

It had taken almost a year for him to admit that he had feelings for you too.

Joel was afraid.

Afraid of catching feelings.

Afraid of letting himself care for people.

Afraid of moving on.

The first time he had spoken about Sarah was almost four years after you had met him.

You had made the mistake of asking about his watch, genuinely curious. He had looked at you like he had been shot before uttering an excuse under his breath and leaving your then shared apartment.

He came home after curfew, smelling of liquor.

And then he started to talk.

Joel and you…

He was your person.

He was the one thing that kept you going in this fucked up world.

The one person who made you feel safe, no matter what was happening around you.

The man you, against all odds, had fallen in love with while the world was ending.

And you were the one person he allowed himself to be fully himself with. He let you see the good and the bad.

It’s why you knew that it would only be a matter of time he would do or say something stupid.

The house was quiet when you finished your shower. You had said goodnight to Ellie before you went to the master bedroom, getting out of your filthy clothes and allowing yourself to just soak under the hot water.

Maria had spent the whole day showing you around and providing new clothes. She even offered to give you a haircut.

You did not like the way she talked about Joel. She knew only one side of the story, but you had chosen to not start an argument only hours after getting to safety.

For the first time in six years you shaved, using the razor you had found under the sink.

You felt like in the twilight zone as you pulled the big, surprisingly fluffy towel around your body, grabbing the bottle of shea butter you had almost cried as you spotted it and walked back into the bedroom.

You sat down on the bed with a sigh, closing your eyes.

Tonight would probably be the first night since leaving the QZ you might get a full night of sleep.

Pulling the towel down you opened the bottle to start and rub the lotion into your skin.

The familiar scent invaded your nose, making you remember better days when your biggest problem was deciding what takeout to order while you watched the newest episode of Friends.

Fuck, you never found out how it ended.

Chuckling to yourself you shook your head, slowly working your hands up your body.

You jumped when you heard voices all of the sudden, your eyes flying around the room to spot the closest gun before you noticed who it was.

Joel and Ellie.

You could not make out what they were saying but it did not sound like a pleasant talk. Setting the bottle of lotion on the bedside table you grabbed the towel to walk back to the bathroom to hang it up to dry.

You put on an old tshirt to sleep, switching off the lights just when the door to the bedroom opened and Joel stepped in.

He closed the door behind him, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

You sucked your bottom lip in.

“Hey,” you whispered. His eyes opened, finding yours. You could see tears in them.

“Hey,” he mumbled.

“Are you…” you started to ask but he shook his head and walked past you into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You suppressed a sigh, deciding to give him space as you climbed into the most comfortable bed you had laid in in years, pulling the covers over you, falling asleep within minutes.

You woke up when Joel got into bed behind you. His nose nuzzled into your neck, kissing your shoulder softly, as his arm pulled you against his chest.

You allowed yourself to melt into his warm embrace, putting your hand over his that laid on your stomach.

“I asked Tommy to take her to the Fireflies,” he said. You closed your eyes.

“Joel…”

“I’m old. I’m tired and I’m… I’m fucking scared. I can’t….” he took a shuddering breath and your heart broke. Carefully you turned around, your hand coming to rest on his cheek.

“Look at me baby,” you said and his eyes opened, finding yours in the soft light that came from the lamp on the bedside table.

“She’s not Sarah,” you whispered. He tensed, like everytime someone mentioned her.

“You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened twenty years ago. It was not your fault. You are allowed to move on. You are allowed to care for other people And no matter how much you tell yourself that she’s only Cargo. You care for her.”

He sighed, his arm around you tightening to pull you even closer.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said quietly.

“The heart wants, what the heart wants,” you smiled.

You kissed his nose, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

“You should apologise to her,” you said.

“How do you…?”

“Joel, I’ve been dealing with your moods for almost six years. You probably said something you didn’t mean. I learned to deal with it, but she’s fourteen. And she has no one but you.”

And she’s on her period, but you chose to not tell him that.

“She has you too,” he whispered.

“Yeah, but I did not piss her off,” you smiled softly and he groaned and closed his eyes. You let your hand run through his wet hair, making him hum.

“You smell good,” he said, his nose nuzzling against your throat.

“I am so stealing that lotion when we leave,” you smiled and he chuckled.

“Shaved too. I feel like 2003 all over again,” you closed your eyes.

“You shaved?” he asked and you opened one eye.

“Jep,” you grinned, closing your eye again. You felt his hand run down your legs, his rough hand brushing over your smooth skin. You made a mental note to make him put lotion on his hands in the morning.

“Everywhere?”

“Mhh,” you nodded, feeling his hand go up your inner thigh.

“Joel?” you asked, feeling his fingers brushing over your trimmed pussy.

He hummed.

“Sleep,” you mumbled, feeling his body shake in a silent chuckle. He kissed you softly, pulling the covers up to both your noses.

“I love you,” you whispered just before you fell asleep, missing how he whispered those same three words into your skin.

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #tlou #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year ago

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Professor Bradley picking you up from a Halloween frat party after you got a lil too tipsy

Let’s not get into the logistics of how you would call him in 1986, even though imagining you almost black out drunk yelling into the receiver of the wall phone at a frat house is a pretty funny image.

Either way, Bradley’s there. And he’s not happy about it. It’s risky, everyone seeing him here — he could get fired if people figure out what the two of you are up to. But you asked for him, and he’s not going to leave you somewhere unsafe.

He walks through the house, frowning at its smell and the sight of several of his students grinding against each other or shot gunning beers. He finds you sitting on the back porch with your head in your hands.

“Can you stand up?”

You lift your head and blink at him slowly, your eyes struggling to focus on him. He takes that as a no. That’s the last thing you remember before you’re waking up in his bed, still in your costume and upsettingly hungover.

Wandering through his apartment, you find him in his kitchen, standing in just a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and nursing a cup of coffee over the morning paper.

“Good morning, Miss Prince.” Bradley taunts, referencing your less than conservative Wonder Woman costume. You groan, overcome with embarrassment and battling a heavy head. Bradley smiles as you stumble over to him and reach for his cup of coffee.

He hands it to you and presses his lips softly to the top of your head.

“You smell like a frat house, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” You sigh as the coffee warms your throat, setting it down on the counter and turning to press your face into his chest. Bradley reaches around you and sets the mug on a coaster as he hugs you with his other arm.

“You should be, but we’ll talk about that later,” He tells you calmly, rubbing his palm delicately along the length of your back. “C’mon. Shower with me.”

He washes your body tentatively, kissing your neck, your shoulders. Smoothing his hands across your stomach and waist, up onto your chest. Then he gives you a pair of his boxers and one of those t-shirts that’s a size and a half too big for him. He tells you that he’s got work to do.

You convince him to stay anyway. Bradley’s living room is big enough to entertain, but you always wind up sitting on his lap anyway. Curled against his chest while an episode of the Twilight Zone plays on the tv in front of you. You’re silent for a while too long. Almost three episodes.

“I’m sorry for making you get me.”

“I know.” Bradley hums, not lifting his gaze from his book as you stare at the television. He’s holding it calmly above your head. If he wasn’t upset he would be stroking your back and watching TV with you.

“I mean it, I just — I had too much to drink and I didn’t feel safe.” You mumble into the fabric of his sweater, beyond ashamed of yourself. He closes the book and tosses it onto the coffee table, taking off his reading glasses.

“I know,” Bradley says again, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “I’d rather you call me. I’m glad that you did. But you know better than to get drunk like that without a ride home.”

“I had a ride home. She was passed out upstairs.” You defend yourself, pushing yourself upright and settling your thighs on either side of his hips.

Bradley gives a small shake of his head. “I could lose my job. You know that, right?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” You promise, leaning forwards and kissing his lips softly. He reciprocates, pushing his hands slowly under the loose t-shirt, squeezing at your waist.

Bradley’s lips tilt upwards into a small smile as your mouth works eager kisses along his jaw, down his chin and onto his throat. He pushes the t-shirt up around your ribs, letting you press closer to him.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #professor bradley #thots night (:

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siblingskissing · 3 months ago

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vance hcs pleeeeease 🤲

Vance Hopper Headcanons

-Momma's boyMomma's boyMomma's boyMomma's boyMomma's boyMomma's boy -Vance has anger issues that I believe are both trauma based and also possibly an undiagnosed disorder/mental health issue. It was the 70s so he likely wouldn't have been diagnosed but you see what I mean -He's not rich but he's also not dirt poor either. I imagine his dad probably has a really nice job and forced his mom to be a housewife/caregiver 24/7. That being said- Vance has a pretty humble mindset when it comes to finances despite the fact -When Vance went missing he was out walking after a fight with his old man- likely had some bruising already when the Grabber tried coaxing him into helping him. I feel like Vance probably didn't try to help but rather tried to fight him and that's how he grabbed him

- (I'm not gonna go into my headcanons for his captivity in this post but I will happily do a separate post if yall want that)

-Vance hates sweets but sour candy has a grip on his soul -He also loves salty foods

-His style is inspired by both his own need to rebel but also his mom's style when she was younger. I think she had hair similar to this:

-I think she actually has dark hair to and the color comes from his dad's side

-Vance actually is really smart and would do well in school if he was given the chance. however, do to both his environment and his temper he can't actually show that -He loves dogs. He prefers cats some days but he likes to feed the stray dogs that sit in the alleys -He loves bananas. Ever since he was a toddler he would munch on them. His mother once got concerned that he had a potassium issue. Nope. Just likes banana -He's allergic to kind of a lot. Cinnamon, peanuts,almonds, eggs, honestly he has a laundry list of allergens that his mom keeps handy -Thankfully most of his allergies (minus the peanuts and almonds) are mostly just irritants so he can still eat things he likes. However those two will kill him. -He likes horror films but isn't huge on them. He'll sometimes sneak into the drive in to watch them but that's more for the rush than the actual film. His favourite horror film is Halloween -I don't have a specific sexuality headcanoned for him. I guess most people would say Pansexual but i think he's unlabelled. He doesn't like many people but if he gets involved with someone? Well, good for them. -chocolate chip pancakes lover -Watches the Twilight Zone with his mom every week. His favorite episode is 'To Serve Man' - Vance always secretly wanted to be a firefighter when he got older. He thought they were cool and when he was like 5 he used to play with his mom that he was a firefighter rescuing her. - His favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. He does not care that it's basic, he likes the simplicity and how its not too sweet. -Same reason he likes dark chocolate. -IDK why but I imagine him as an older brother?? Maybe his mom had a little girl after him or was pregnant when he went missing. -IDK but either way he is so protective. -He hates reading with a passion. He hates silence and he hates being silent the entire time he reads. He does however enjoy when people read to him/he can follow along with someone reading. -Rip vance you would've loved audiobooks -Know how I said he likes horror? He HATES horror stories. They aren't as fun for him and he things they're boring -I imagine he has a very clean room for some reason?? Like he likes things to be in their place, how he likes it and its organized for his needs -Kinda similar in the idea of this?? Like i doubt he has tons of decor but he has what he needs

-Secret art kid. He's really good at drawing but doesn't do it much outside of his room. He prefers traditional pencil drawings since paint leaves too much residue but if he gets his hands on colored pencils? He flourishes. -rip vance you would've loved alcohol markers-

#vance hopper #proship #antis dni #proship community #proship please interact #the black phone #vance hopper headcanons #the black phone headcanons

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magical-girl-coral · 1 year ago

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Summarizing Mushishi Episodes Like Onion Articles - Part 2

Banquet at the Forest's Edge - Local business owner finds all those stories of people getting inventive ideas while on acid trips might have a good point after all.

The Warbling Sea Shell - Local dad is forced to admit that maybe isolating his only child from other human interactions might not be what's best for them.

Beneath the Snow - "I have never been better" says man who's terrible mental health has reached a level where it is affecting the weather around him.

The Hand That Caresses the Night - Local teen breaks family curse by admitting his father was actually massive shithead.

Mirror Lake - Local teen so damn annoying about her heartbreak that her own doppelganger had to put a stop to it.

Floral Delusion - Local man with a weird ass library and sketchy medicine is revealed to be a major creep, shocking no one.

Cloudless Rain - Local woman loses the ability to cry and somehow it becomes everyone's problem.

Wind Raiser - Local teenager runs away from home to become a professional whistler.

Valley of the Welling Tides - "Is breast milk secretly trying to kill you" and five other fascinating articles written by nutjobs.

Depths of Winter - Traveling man becomes a god's squeak toy for an entire winter and somehow comes out unscratched.

Cushion of Grass - Local orphan ruins an entire ecosystem by liking an egg too much.

Fragrant Darkness - Local family man finally escaped a time loop only to go straight back in it when the future doesn't turn out well.

Lingering Crimson - Top four fun stories to tell before bed that will make your children afraid of their own shadow.

Hidden Cove - How one codependent relationship between two women nearly turned their village into a hive mind.

Thread of Light - Local kid's anger issues mysteriously disappears after finally being allowed to meet his mother for the first time in ten years and gaining a healthy support network.

Sea of Otherworldly Stars - Local girl accidentally enters the twilight zone to get back at her sister.

Azure Waters - Local woman loses everything thanks to several water filled accidents and still manages not to develop a phobia around it which is a bigger miracle than her son being half fish.

Lightning's End - Local woman so bad at being a mother that the lighting that keeps striking her son seems like a better parent in comparison.

Mud Grass - Feel bad about your own brood? This family can't stop killing each other for five fucking minutes!

Tree of Eternity - Local man gains the ability to see into the past in the price of his legs by trying out this totally legal vegan meal.

Bonus:

Path of Thorns - "I am the most normal person I know" says man after confessing he hasn't had a soul in years.

Bell Droplets - Young girl believed to have autism was actually a forest child all along while still being autistic.

#Mushishi

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sushirrrry · 6 months ago

Text

CELESTIAL | II. NEWTON'S THIRD LAW OF MOTION

7.1k words - on-going story

chapter one here

Chapter One. Fundamentals of Statistics.

I write a few problems down, a few definitions that seem to be a bit more of a challenge. My handwriting flies across the page as I write in a few calculations that would be helpful for the exam tomorrow. I'm not an expert on statistics, but I can problem-solve easily when it comes to mathematics equations.

Everything I look at makes perfect, logical sense when it comes in the form of equation and number sequence. That was the way I liked it.

And if there was one thing that I was good at, it was creating study sheets. While I didn't necessarily need it, I thought that there may be a time tonight during studying that someone does need it.

The possibility of that felt oddly exciting, but I tried not to think too hard into it.

I had made my way home after my two classes this morning. Grabbing lunch at the dining hall, I decided to bring it back to my apartment—just a salad, really—and watched a few episodes of The Twilight Zone on the sofa while I ate. I particularly liked the episode about the bank clerk that enjoys reading, but never has the time– it keeps my attention even though I know what happens in the end.

Chase had chosen to have his classes in the afternoon, I had classes in the mornings on Thursday's. We missed each other, usually, and then were home in the midafternoon together. On Thursday nights, it kind of depended on his schedule, we would normally order in some food and just kind of hang out together.

Lately, though, Thursday afternoons had started to turn into his night to go out with friends. I knew that he had class in the morning and had seemed to overlook this part of his schedule. He leaned more towards getting drunk with friends nowadays than what we had normally scheduled, especially last year.

But that was okay—it was fine. I was fine to study Thursday nights, and I wanted him to be able to have fun, if that's what he wanted.

My only problem was when Chase brought his friends around the apartment. This was the only part of our relationship that slightly bugged me, but of course, he shared the space. I just didn't enjoy this because his friends were horrid, and I would have just rather that they weren't involved at all.

Of course, I tried not to be too much trouble. I sat back and let Chase do what he needed to do—if that meant having friends over, I wanted him to do that. I wanted him to have the experiences that he wanted, and I knew that he would be courteous to me, as well.

But that didn't keep his friends from being major blow heads.

After I ate, I had finished watching some of my show, and decided to get a start on creating some questions to go over for the statistics course. I figured that at least getting the basics down for the exam would be good—even if it wasn't going to get her the A, I still wanted her to have a clear understanding of what was being asked so she could at least have a solid effort.

I'm sat at the small table in our dining and living space; it's not much, but we're able to use it for studying or having a meal together. I decided to sit outside of my bedroom to start, the light from the living room brightened it up – it was nice, quiet.

Until Chase and his friends have arrived over to our place. I have my headphones in, eyes averting to the three men as they walk in laughing, their voices loud now.

I notice that they have started to unpack a few bags from their trip to the store. There's some food, some drinks—by some, I mean, quite a few. I hadn't asked any questions about the plans for the evening, mostly because I wasn't really interested in whatever they were.

But I did keep looking up occasionally, seeing the cases of beer, the handle of liquor, and bags of crisps that were starting to grace our small kitchen.

Again, no questions asked—that was usually the best policy when it came to things like this. I decided to keep to myself, working on categorical sequences that would be used to study patterns.

Through my headphones, I can hear a bit of banter from the three of them—I don't know if they're trying to be quiet at all, but I can hear them clearly through the Mozart No. 23 in A Major.

"So’s he, like," The tall blonde one, with the very noticeable Liverpool accent, scoffs, "Gonna stay there all night?"

I can hear them beside me, but I'm just pretending that the headphones are blocking out all the sound. They aren't, but I pretend that they are for my own sake. Maybe focusing on the work in front of me will keep me distracted.

"That guy's totally brings the vibe down— we like never see him out or anything." The other guy says. His voice is quiet, but not quiet enough. "How do you sleep here with him? He's weird, bro. Like never talks."

I look up from the computer screen just a bit, just enough to see that Chase notices that I've heard what they're saying. Chase and I make eye contact for a moment; he shakes his head.

He noticed that I heard them, and that I'm able to continue to hear them. I scoot out from my chair—the one that I pay rent to sit in—before I move up towards the fridge to grab something to drink.

They're staring at me now that I've moved, almost like it's an anomaly to them.

That's the thing—Chase has been my roommate since last year. We were paired together randomly; I didn't care who I roomed with because I felt like I could get along with anyone if it really came to it. I wasn't really an issue, I didn't think. I was quiet, kept to myself. I didn't think that I was necessarily a problem.

Chase was extremely kind– he was a bit unsure of himself, maybe testing out the waters of who he wanted to be. We got along fine, he was a bit shy when he first arrived, too. That's how we became pretty good friends. Maybe we didn't have all of the same interests, but I knew that we looked out for one another.

But then things changed when he started to meet people who wanted to go out every night, and who were drinking to get drunk. And do other things, I guess.

Chase never brought anyone home or anything, which was good– well, for me. Maybe not him, I wasn't sure. We didn't talk about that.

His friends, the drinking, the going out– it didn't stop Chase and I from being friends. It just made me a bit uneasy when he's brought his friends to our apartment that we shared.

His friends weren't my friends.

His friends were on the football team and went out to pubs to find pretty girls. That just wasn't where I was, and it wasn't what I was directly focused on in school. Girls weren't interested in astrophysics, I seemed to find.

Chase's stare on me doesn't go unnoticed as I look back from grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge. I make my way back to the small table, starting to pack up the papers I had spread around it.

"Harry, you remember Hayden and Shawn, right?" Chase looks at his friends and I can tell he's trying to mitigate like always. He looks back at me with a bit of sadness reigning in his face, "We'll leave you alone, H, you can stay and study."

I shut my laptop, knowing it's much easier to find a more comfortable spot elsewhere.

I had to be at the library soon, anyways.

"No, it's fine," I say, a bit quiet as I watch his friends grumble under their breaths "I'm meeting someone anyways."

The tall blonde with a middle part and a denim jacket scoffs out a laugh before I feel a rush of anxiety flood my upper chest as I can feel the judgement and overwhelming sense of unease. I clear my throat, grabbing my laptop and loose papers before heading towards my bedroom.

"Wait," I hear Chase following me, but I just make my way to my room in a few strides anyways. I start to pack up a bag of my belongings, eyes looking up at my friend. "Why don't you stay here and drink with us? You don't even have to drink, really. It'll be fun. Maybe they can, I don't know, get to know you."

"I'd rather not get to know them," I tell him honestly. My lip pulls into my mouth, his exterior shows a bit of defeat as he stands inside the doorframe. "They're pricks, Chase."

Chase looks over his shoulders at his friends who have started to make themselves at home. They've started to take already opened liquor out of our cabinets, putting them on the counter space around the unopened ones. They take bowls out and plates and other things that are also mine but it's easier to stay quiet.

"Just keep everyone out of my room, please." I tell my friend before I pick my bag up from the floor. I grab all of the statistics papers from the desk, placing them in their own folder.

Chase stands at the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, keeping conversation. "You meeting with Niall, then?"

Niall was one of my closest friends in uni. He was majoring in engineering, but we had a few math classes together which had made us grow close. We had the same type of love for our education; wanting it to be the best we could be.

We were competitive with grades, in a fun way. We liked knowing how everything worked and figuring out problems together.

Niall and I had gone to a few parties and events together in the past– we had both understood that wasn't our scene very quickly.

And that's why we were friends.

"No," I shake my head. "He's busy tonight. I think has some sort of club fundraiser. Don't really know."

Chase's face changes a bit. I look up to him when he squints at me, his lips quivering a bit into a smile. It's a bit unnerving when he does so, and it's just a bit confusing at first.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, grabbing my shoes that sit over by the closet to put on my shoes.

"Is it someone I know? The person you're meeting?" Chase doesn't attend back to his friends, and only seems to be entertained by what I'm doing. I blink a few times at him, wondering his angle.

"Uh," I think a few times over at how Chase could have possibly known Stella, "How would I know? Maybe. It's just a girl from my statistics class. Needs some tutoring for our exam tomorrow." I throw my bag over my shoulder before I'm standing in front of him.

We're standing in front of each other, but he's not backing down from his way in the door. Chase's smile flips up and he stares at me for a moment.

"Chase." I say, pushing my glasses up, "I have to get to the library."

"Tutoring is kind of sexy, huh?" He teases, my eyes roll at his stupid comment.

"It's not like that." I tell him quickly, shaking his head.

"Surely, she asked you to study with her. Not the other way around." He questions, putting his arms across the doorframe so that I couldn't leave. I stand in front of him, trying my best to dodge the questions and seemingly meaningless accusations.

"Does that matter?" I ask, a bit confused by his statement.

I watch as Chase smirks, his eyes lighting up at my words, "Hope you won't end up in 414.”

Pushing my glasses up my face, I shake my head a few times as I stare at him, completely unsure of what he was talking about. I don't even want to ask, but I can see that he's pushing me to, so I shrug my shoulders at him. I've given up that he's going to let me go.

"I don't know what that means." I say to him before I watch his eyes get bigger.

"You don't know about 414? Damn, you do live under a rock."

I roll my eyes, pushing at his shoulder to try to move past him before he pushes me back and laughs a little.

"414 is a room on the top level of the library where no one ever goes—it's like, completely hidden. There's a journal for it across from the room where people like, write in time slots to go and fuck because it's a completely soundproof study room that you can lock. For all those freaky kids. You'd probably be into that, honestly."

I lick over my lips as I push into him again, but he's not budging. I look at him, trying to get him to wipe the smug smile from his face before he raises his brows at me.

I click my tongue, "I'm going to completely ignore this conversation, if you don't mind. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Chase rolls his eyes, letting me finally go by removing one arm from the doorframe.

I knew I've made a mistake saying anything at all, as I push past him to try to make my way out of the apartment in one piece without thinking anymore into what kind of information he's just given me.

I walk into the kitchen; it's not much, so it feels a bit cramped with the four of us now inhabiting the space. Chase's friends are standing around and suddenly quiet when I approach the room. I unscrew my water bottle at the sink, filling it up in the silence of the room.

“What's up, Einstein?" The other friend with very dark hair smirks at me, both lingering as Chase approaches too. "Why don't you take a break from studying and hang tonight with the boys? Or are we too much for you?"

I ignore it– pulling my lips into my mouth as I bite my tongue. I screw the lid back on before I turn and see Chase looking at me.

"We're just having a few people over tonight, nothing big. Then we're going to happy hour at Lou's." Chase assures before I nod at him. I clear my throat before pulling at the straps of my backpack.

"That's– okay, yeah, that's fine." I assure him. "I'll be back later."

With another nod, I go to the front door where a small dish holds all our keys. I grab my lanyard that holds my car key and my apartment key before I start to head towards the stairs. A few sets of those, and I'm on the main floor as I move out towards the library which is only a short walk.

Just my thoughts and I again.

It had thankfully stopped raining a few hours ago, which just left everything quite damp and wet. I trudged through a few puddles on my way there, looking across campus.

There weren't a lot of people walking around, probably because it was also a bit on the cool side. I had been wearing the same black hoodie from the morning, so I wasn't cold on my walk over there.

But it was getting to be the colder part of the year. England had rainier seasons, and the fall always seemed to have the worst weather. At least snow looked nice—rainy, damp, and dreary were just a bit depressing.

Making my way to the library, I open the large door and smile at the girl who sits behind the desk at the entrance. She's always very friendly, giving me a warm welcome when I walk in. She had short blonde hair, golden brown eyes and is always looks like she's happy to be there.

If she's not, she's putting on a great show.

“Hey, Harry,” She states softly, “How's it going?”

I wish I knew her name– she knows mine, so I feel a bit awkward as I approach the desk. She's never really talked to me before, but I smile at her.

“Uh, it's good,” I nod, rolling a hand through my hair, “I– just have an exam tomorrow. So,” I reference upstairs, feeling that my cheeks are most definitely hot from the way she's hanging in every word.

She’s sitting behind the desk, a book on the table as she seems to have been reading while she sat there. I know I should say something– maybe add a bit of conversation but I don't know what else to say.

I smile and nod a few times, using my hand to scratch at my hair in an uncomfortably awkward way.

“I’ll see–“ I start.

“Would you–“ She says.

When we speak at the same time, we both smile, and I hear her giggle for a moment before she shakes her head.

“I was just saying,” She licks her lips, “If you're ever interested, we have a book club here on Tuesday nights. I-I mean, I’m just saying because you're always here– I don't know if you read for fun or anything,” She clears her throat, “But if you did.”

I look down at the book in her hands, nodding a few times before I speak again. “That– is that the book?”

She notices that I caught sight of what she was reading, looking up me and holding the cover up, “Yes– well, no, actually. It's just a Murakami book– After Dark. This isn't what we read for book club– well, kind of.”

I looked at the cover and back to her, cutting her off as she seems a bit flustered. “I may check it out, yeah,” I swallow before clarifying, “The club. The club and the book.”

The girl bites her lip before she shakes her head, “Um– sorry, I’m Faye, by the way.”

I bite my cheek as I watch her eyes crinkle at the sides when her cheeks turn up in a small smile.

“Faye.” I say quietly before I nod at her, “I’ll see you around.”

She nods back at me in acknowledgement before I start to make my way back towards the steps, so I can make my way to the third floor where I usually have my set up. It's nice because it's always the least busy of the levels. The first floor holds computers, which are the most used for printing and workshopping. The second and fourth floors have more study rooms, and the third floor is mostly aisles of books and free tables.

That's where I prefer to be, close to the window so that I can look out occasionally over all the people who are making their way across campus; heading wherever they need to be on a Thursday evening. It also adds a bit of lighting until the sun heads back on the other side of the world, which is helpful just for a while.

The watch on my wrist reads 6:12pm. I had a while before I was expecting someone else to arrive.

It had started to get a bit darker—mostly because the clouds had started to overcast, which meant that the sun wasn't visible anyways. The days were starting to shorten, and winter was starting to become a bit more of a reality.

As I sat and studied other classes, I had realized that my watch started to move a bit faster every time I looked at it.

Six turned into seven.

Seven turned into eight. And I was still sitting at the table by myself.

Being in the library by myself was lonely– it was the first time that loneliness and being alone were coexisting. Something about being stood up, being left alone was a different level of loneliness. It was an embarrassing loneliness.

I tried to focus on other work at my table, tried to think more about Mach's principle as I read through the textbook. I tried to ignore the time, tried to ignore the feeling in my chest that maybe I had miscommunicated about times or where we were supposed to meet. Maybe I had given her a false impression, or we miscommunicated on time.

There were reasons I didn't put expectations on people– in many ways, they never showed up like they were supposed to. I didn't want to feel disappointment anymore, or that my excitement didn't match others.

Doing good deeds seemingly never panned out in my favor, as it showed. Maybe I read into it too much, maybe she felt bad for me and decided to ask to hang out so I wouldn't feel so shy. Maybe she said yes because so had approached her, now she felt bad.

It worked, I guess. For a bit.

I couldn't focus– I hated that feeling. I never had a problem with it before, and now these ideas of anxiety rushed through my head as I tried to put my nose to the page to forget about the way that this had made me feel. My glasses fell to the bridge of my nose, and I pushed them up to their place.

A heavy sigh fell through my lips as I noticed the time that had simply slipped by.

8:30.

I had been waiting for hours– I told her I'd be here at six, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt for an hour. But now it was spelled out perfectly for me, and I didn't really want to read between the lines.

Sitting back in the wooden library chair, I ran a hand through my hair as I finally decide that it's time for me to start heading home.

Hopefully, Chase and his friends have moved onto the bars, and won't be there when I get back. That would just put me in a worse mood. As I push myself up to start packing up my belongings to head home, I hear the door of the staircase open.

I'm the only one up here most nights, so the noise elicits me to jerk my head up. The sound of clicking heels on the tile make my eyebrows knit before I see the culprit of the noise, and the person heading towards me from around the large bookcases.

My eyes gravitate towards the extraordinarily long, bronze legs that melt into tall, brown boots on the ends. A cream skirt that sits short on her thighs but high on her waist, with a knit sweater top that has a few buttons done up in the middle, but the rest of open in a triangular shape on her torso. Also bronze, also tall.

I've never seen anything like that in the library before.

"Oh my god, there you are!" The girl stomps her way over, her voice relatively loud for the space as I feel an unsettled amount of surprise. It is a library, after all, and she's a bit loud.

I'm a bit taken aback; I fall into the chair once again as I'm watching her pull out the chair in front of me.

"Who knew there were so many levels of this place?" She laughs to herself– the glitter on her eyes shines so bright as I notice the crinkles by her eyes. "Don't know if I've—well, I don't think I've ever been in here properly, really."

It's such a difference of what she looked like just hours before. The tear stains are gone, there's a lightness to her now that's different. The makeup coating her face is natural and dewy with such high points of shine, her lips pouty and brown with a glossy finish.

I'm absolutely confused and feeling suddenly warm underneath the black hoodie at the same time.

But there's also a slur to her words as she places her hands and the small bag on the wooden table loudly.

"I'm sorry I'm late," She rolls her eyes dramatically, "I got dragged to this thing– well, I mean, I had to go to it. But I thought that this was a really good excuse to leave." She giggles a little, her smile bright and white.

I watch as her sleek, dark brown hair coats over her shoulders. It's got a bounce of soft curls that are much different than the chaos of curls that had been thrown into a ponytail earlier.

I'm in a bit of shock as I look away from her and back to the papers that have surrounded me just moments before.

"Um– I mean, are you—" I look up at her, watching as her eyes struggle to follow mine. There's a soft smile on her lips as she leans on the table a bit almost like my question is the most exciting thing to her. "Are you drunk?"

Her face falls a bit, as if I just found out her biggest secret. She shakes her head a few times, "No– no, I just had a few—" She shakes her head more, but I can tell that her balance is a bit off as she shakes her head. "I'm totally fine."

In the moment, I see that her body seems to stiffen at recognizing that my energy simply doesn't match hers. She can see that I'm a bit taken back by her suddenness of being here, and I don't really know how to react to her sitting across from me now.

I don't really know how to feel now because I'm not sure I was planning for this situation at all. Especially from the morning that she had. It was different, it wasn't exactly what I had expected from her, and I'm trying to think about how to proceed.

"So," I start, a bit confused, "you're not here to study.”

I watch as her eyes shift over the papers that I am starting to put away, maybe a bit guilty that she had come in the first place. Maybe it would have been better to be stood up than to watch the look on her face.

"Oh, are you, like," She licked over her lips, her eyes batting a few times before she notices that I've started to pick up a few things around me. "Were you getting ready to leave?” The look on my face must register because her eyes drop and she bites her lip, “Oh, fuck—okay, yeah. I'm sorry. I'm so stupid– I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. I just– must've been some miscommunication." I tell her softly, nodding a few times to remind us both that we had just been mistaken.

Stella goes to stand from her spot, pushing herself up from the chair before she pulls the skirt down her legs a bit. I watch as she grabs the small bag that had been sitting on her shoulder when she walked in.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, and I notice the small earrings that are in the dainty shape of stars settle into her lobes.

I clear my throat.

"You didn't have to—I mean, you didn't have to come, if you were having fun. I just– I mean, I thought you needed help.” I tell her softly, watching as she seems a bit lost about where to go now.

As if this was the only place she was planning on going. Almost like she didn't really see this outcome, or maybe felt like she wasn't wanted here. That wasn't the truth at all, but I didn't know how to express that.

A bit of glitter has fallen from her eyes, landing softly on her cheeks as she stands at the table.

"I knew that I was going to leave the party early," She nods her head softly, "I just didn't—yeah, I messed up and– like, I do need help but I just... Sorry for wasting your time."

There's a moment when she starts to walk off that I stand from my seat, pushing the chair back. A weird, unidentifiable feeling comes over me.

“Stella, wait."

Her head turns back towards me, a bit of a stumble in her step at the high-heeled brown boots that stack up her calves and to her knee. The unsteadiness of her walking seems a bit dangerous to me, and I don't really want to see her fall.

"Can I—I mean, don't feel like you have to say yes but," I push my hands into my jean pockets as I take in a deep breath, "Let me take you back to your friends, or something. I mean, I don't want you to—" I shake my head at my words, knowing that they sound a bit odd as we don't know each other at all. "You shouldn't be walking on campus by yourself at night."

Her eyebrows knit together, like she was trying to process the way that I spoke to her. She stared at me, a familiar stare from earlier in the morning. This time, she looked a bit more vulnerable. It was almost like she was in disbelief that I would even offer in the first place.

"Oh," She turns to me a bit, her arms crossed over her chest. "Yeah, sure."

Before there's any more conversation, I start to pack my belongings back in my backpack. All of the papers I had created for her were stuffed back into the folders, hopefully she didn't even notice that I had done that to begin with. My cheeks flush just at the thought of how ridiculous it sounded now.

Once the backpack is full, I throw it over my shoulder and start to move a bit closer to her.

Orange blossom and citrus melt from her skin, which makes me shut my eyes just at the idea of it. We start to head down the steps of the library, her feet almost dragging underneath her.

I'm not entirely sure that she realizes how many drinks she's had, but I let her take the side of the railing so that she can make her way down without tripping.

On the last staircase, her toe gets stuck underneath her foot, which makes her stumble a few times. I reach my hand out, grabbing at her elbow to steady her as she gasps at the way her balance has been thrown off. The immediate touch burns my palm, feeling her skin through the sweater material of her top.

"You okay?" I ask, watching as she nods her head a few times, humming—possibly a bit embarrassed by how off she really is. "Where do we need to get you?"

I watch as her brain starts to turn at the thought of where she needs to get to. I wonder how she got here in the first place, and who let her walk around campus like this on her own. I try to meet her eyes as she rubs at them, a bit of makeup smudging as she does so.

"Um," She shakes her head, "Flats towards 12th West. Don't really know what they're called."

We're standing outside of the library now; I'm facing her as she tries to recall where we need to go. I don't know that I've ever really dealt with a drunk person before like this. Chase was better at taking care of himself, so this was new to me.

I nod a few times, "I'm headed over there, too. Can you call a friend to ask?"

I watch as she hums to herself, agreeing with me and grabbing her cellphone out of her purse. It immediately drops to the ground from the slip of her fingers, landing with a crunch.

"Son of a fucking bitch," She exclaims, moving to squat down to grab it, but I'm already there.

Her reflexes are obviously not what they need to be, as she puts her hand over mine when we both reach for the phone. She doesn't pull away quickly, instead, keeping it there for a moment as I turn the phone around in my palm so that she can grab it.

"Thanks," She says softly, looking at the newly broken screen that leaves a large crack up the middle of her phone. "Fuck."

I watch her go to unlock the device, scrolling through her apps before landing on one and looking at it a bit intensely. The crack seems to not be that big of a deal anymore as she starts to focus harder on the screen.

"This building, here," I see that she's looking at the Find My Device, looking at a device that is right in the general direction of my apartment building. A friends contact pops up, and I try to see where it is.

The closer I look at the device, the more I notice... it is my flat building.

I take in a breath as I look at the girl, wondering if she had partaken in the Jack Daniels that had sat on the counter before I left for the library. I wonder if the scent of orange blossom would linger on my sofa at home.

The odd thought is immediately pushed from my brain as I return to reality. "I live over there, so I'll just walk you back, okay? Tell me if anything looks familiar."

My eyes linger over her body that she is crossing her arms over. The slight chill in the air makes her legs to shift a few times as we stand. I can tell that her discomfort is overwhelming her, and I feel like watching her is hurting me in a way.

"Here," I set my backpack on the ground by my feet for a moment.

Her eyes watch me do so before I pull the black hoodie from my torso, over my head. I knock my glasses on my face a bit so they're on the edge of my nose. The warmth of the cover on my body is now gone, but I watch as she seems a bit uncertain on what I'm doing.

"Take this. It's a bit of a walk." I hand her the black hoodie, her eyes trailing over it for a moment. I can see there's hesitation, which only makes the anxiety settle in my chest at her unwillingness to take the piece of clothing.

This is probably weird, and I regret it immediately.

I watch as she grabs it from my hand to throw over her body, a bit disoriented. When she lifts her arms up, the edges of her top move up around the bottom of her ribs.

I flush immediately, a heat rising up my neck almost disregarding the coolness in the air tonight.

My eyes look away, but seeing her head pop out from the hoodie makes me feel better that at least she can stay warm now.

I can't imagine that someone has allowed her to be out here like this. She walked all this way, alone, without someone to help her. She can barely walk in a straight line as we start down the other towards the apartment.

A bit of wind sweeps through, her legs exposed, and my own arms now just bare with my t-shirt.

I don't know how to firmly create conversation with her– mostly because I know that her mind isn't in the right place. Stella and I do not seem compatible, and every move she makes reminds me of that. I've watched an odd twelve hours of her life, from a huge mess to a complete mess.

But, something about her is intriguing. I’m the curious type.

My hands push into my pockets, the backpack thankfully shielding my back as we walk down the cobblestone pathways. We've walked a bit in silence, and I feel like that's for the best. But I try to give a bit of talking points in case she needs it.

"Anything look familiar?" I say, trying to keep myself warm as I feel her sway a bit against me.

Her eyes move from their site in the path to where we are on campus.

"N-No," Her teeth chatter, and I feel incredibly guilty for not driving over here instead. "B-but this is s-so nice of you." She turns her head, a mess of soft curls in her face as she pushes they out of her eyes. "You must h-have a good m-mum."

I knit my brows together, a bit confused by her logic. I push my hands far in my pocket as I grit my teeth together at how cool out it is. "Why do you say that?"

"Only a g-guy with a nice m-mum would walk a g-girl home in her going-out clothes without l-looking at her ass and just covering her u-up more." Stella chuckles a little bit; it sounds like she's trying to make a joke, but it only aches in my chest as she crosses her arms over her chest tightly.

I didn't really find that funny.

I pull my lips into my mouth as I turn my lips up just enough to acknowledge her humor. "You just need to get home safely."

I hear her sniffle next to me, the coldness getting to her. The bright pink of her nose is noticeable as the coolness hits us.

My apartment building is in sight, her eyes reach up. "This is where the party was." Her hand points directly at my building before I nod a few times.

"I live there, actually," I say, biting my lip. "I think my roommate was throwing the party you went to. His name is Chase."

Stella clears her throat, wiping at her nose, "Oh! Yeah, yeah. I know Chase.” She tells me, biting her lip, “I didn't know you lived there. You're never there when we come over.”

I take a breath in, “I– I probably am there. I just– I just don't really…”

“Not your scene?” She asks, the heel of the boots click across the pavement.

I shrug. “Not really. I– I don't drink or anything. I don't know.”

Stella tucked her hair behind her ear, “You don't have to drink. Maybe you could just hang out. You seem,” I look over at her once she pauses, “You seem really nice.”

I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth before I feel the tinge of a smile. “Thanks. You're pretty nice, too.”

When we reach the door, I open it before she walks inside the lobby. We make our way to the stairs– the elevator is seemingly always broken. I take the lead, going in front of her before we reach the second level.

When we make our way down the hall and to the front door of my flat, Stella doesn't say anything else. She just seems to accept that this is where she needs to be, and she seems to recognize where she is.

The music is over-stimulatingly loud from where we're standing out front, and I’m trying to anticipate walking into it. My hands reach into my pockets as I grab the keys. She looks much smaller wrapped in the black hoodie as it drapes down her front, hiding the remnants of the cream skirt that is gracing her small frame.

I stick the key in the door, pushing it open and hearing the blast of music immediately hit us both.

They hadn't left yet, like they said they would.

When we walk in, I move in first, Stella following behind. I look around, seeing more faces that I didn't know. There are significantly more faces now, and I just let out a sigh.

When I walk towards the kitchen, I can feel Stella behind me before I catch Chase’s eye, but I hear a louder voice first.

"Stella," I hear, "where the fuck did you go?"

I watch the blonde man from earlier approach her immediately disregarding me, a beer in his hand as he gets too close to us. I watch hesitantly as he pulls her closer, as if my existence was purely nonexistent to him.

I drop my keys in the small dish before star making my way through the crowd of people to walk back down the hall and to my bedroom, as if the past hour didn't happen. The noise of the bass is a bit overwhelming; the people don't seem to interest me.

"Needed to go for a walk." I hear her say, "I thought you guys were going to get something to eat?"

"Harry!" My eyes move to the kitchen where Chase seems a little looser than before; his smile undoubtedly bigger as he comes closer to me.

My head turns back, as I feel a grip on my arm before I can make a getaway.

"You found Hayden's girlfriend?" He asks, his eyes moving towards the familiarity of the brunette with amber eyes who had my black hoodie on over her body.

Everyone was way too drunk to miss that part. The black hoodie– I’m sure if someone knew, I'd be in trouble for that.

I stare at her talking to Hayden, her face looking relatively upset from their conversation. His hand reaches to her waist, pulling her in to kiss her.

Immediately, I look away. I feel a racing in my heart that's feels completely unnatural and like anything else I've ever felt before. Maybe the feeling of throwing up is also present, which is also weird to me.

My head turns away from the interaction– I start to pull away from Chase, back to the safer confines of my room. Back where my time and kindness aren't taken for granted.

Back to where something as simple as watching that interaction doesn't add a ridiculous ping of annoyance in the settlement of my chest.

"Yeah, something like that." I say to him, moving away before he can follow me to my room, just like earlier.

"How was your studying?" He asks, pretending like he cares for a moment. I can tell by the look in his eyes he won't remember this conversation tomorrow.

I turn towards him, holding my door in my hand, "Don't know if she's going to remember anything tomorrow for the exam. But I tried."

With a simple shut, the music is still a bit too loud from the other side of the door. But, out of sight, out of mind.

I had a stats exam to finish studying for.

______________

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