#but a blessed January so far! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urhoneycombwitch · 2 months

Text

imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill.

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days.

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place.

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you.

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite.

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge.

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs).

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue.

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties.

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.)

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course.

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you.

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school.

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before…

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend.

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event.

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room.

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh.

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space.

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts.

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise.

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals.

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily.

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form.

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are.

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda.

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes.

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak.

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet.

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel.

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours.

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here.

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?”

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds.

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude.

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him.

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there.

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours.

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone.

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you.

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you.

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside.

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks.

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year.

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie

875 notes · View notes

tannieastrology · 2 months

Text

Solar Return Observations💋❤️🌹

💋This year I have a Virgo Ascendant in my solar return along with 2 Venus returns and Ive been so much more health/beauty focused. Like I care more about myself and am trying to break bad habits that I made in 2023. Im also alot more driven in sports/goals and back when I had this in 2020 I was also into skincare and makeup alot too and was into running and working out. I feel like the year you get a virgo ascendant for your solar return is the year to cleanse bad habits that youve made in the previous year its like a chance to start new.

💋The year you have Uranus in the 11th house is most likely a year where you will lose friends but will also get the chance to make new ones. I had Uranus and North Node in my 11th house last year and my 3 year long friend who claimed we were “besties” backstabbed me and cut me off with no explanation BUT I also found a friendgroup who are here to stay and am incredibely blessed to have met them. This was a year where my view on society and people changed significantly but i feel it was for the better.

💋Last year I had Sun and Pluto in the 8th house along with Moon and Mars in the 12th. I struggled really bad with my mental health(also a Gemini Rising) and my whole personality shifted from these experiences. From January my grandma almost died of cancer, I faced unrequited love, bullying from “friends”, losing friends, and overall felt pressure from school. I was just sensitive to what people said about me and let little things bother me and now that Im looking back none of it was a big deal but I dont know in the moment it affected me way too much. It made me realize that you cant ever really put your faith in people and that you need to trust and respect yourself the most. That you cant be attached to people and your faith should be put in god (atleast thats what I think). Most of the pain came from lowself esteem and I do believe that these placements made me grow a thicker skin and to become more independant. Im a completely different person now and while I did lose my innocence to the world I feel that I can survive on my own now. I guess I just grew a backbone which im really thankful for.

💋Everything that happened last year (like growth transformation death) is all related to the 8th house which is where gemini is in my natal so also keep that in mind where your solar ascendant falls in your natal.

💋This year I have a Moon in Libra in the 1st house and a Virgo Lilith exactly conjunct my ascendant and Ive been getting so much praise from woman its weird? Weirdly guys have been liking my instagram stories and when I posted on my birthday so many people came and viewed my story who dont even follow me. I also feel more pretty and empowered this year and Ive been trying to figure out how I want to present myself more. Compared to last year I feel like I am more upfront with my feelings. I feel like this year I might not struggle as much since im a Libra Ascendant and my solar return is Virgo and almost aligns with my natal chart.

💋My sadness and pain from my 2023 solar return actually really did last until my birthday aka my 2024 return😭 So keep in note that solar returns will remain effective until your next birthday.

💋I have Pluto, Mars, Sun, Vertex, Mercury, and POF, all in the 5th house this year and Im really hoping I can finally meet someone to date for the first time but so far its manifested as being more interested in hobbies/ having fun. Im not complaining tho I actually have been so much happier and I havent cried that much at all from this new Solar Return. I will say I feel like having Pluto in the 5th house will make your view change a bit on relationships. I lost feelings for my 3 year crush and I also feel like its impossible for me to properly catch feelings now. I dont know its like I broke the cycle of infatuting crushes and am way more realistic when it comes to love. Part of it is probably just me getting older but I think thats a good thing. I dont expect love like the movies anymore but i just want something REAL.

💋The year you have 8th house Venus a old flame might come back into your life.

💋Tell me why I have Jupiter, North Node, and Chiron in the 8th house this year and ive been attracting money/all the things i want so easily? I got almost $450 for my birthday, a vanity, a lulu bag, and a big party and its only been like 2 weeks😭

💋 When I turn 18 in 2026 I have a stellium of Venus, Mercury, Sun, Mars, and Pluto in the 12th SOOO im predicting that I might be struggling with mental health that year, probably lost in where I want to head after high school, or Im either hiding sum secret love affair(8th house ruler of libra in 12) or like something about it is forbidden/ secretive. I also do have Moon and Jupiter in Cancer in the 5th house that year so that should be interesting lol. Let me know what aspects/ placements in your future solar returns yall find interesting and have down in the comments I wanna see.

💋A Saggitarius Ascendant/ 9th placements might mean that you get opportunity to travel

💋Having Lilith in the 2nd house might mean that you struggle with eating consistently or might struggle with self worth and body image.

💋Venus in the 4th house will be a year where you try to improve your home and find comfort in familial relationships

💋Look at transits to your solar return too theyll give you a deeper dive in whats going on you can look on astroseek.

💋12th house placements will make you inclined to find god

💋On November 16 2021 I caught feelings bad for this guy and I would go on to like him for a long time. Near that time I had a Venus Return and also a transit Solar Return with a 7th house stellium(Sun,Mars,Mercury,Moon in Libra/Scorpio). I was around this guy 24/7 and it just unexpectedly happened. Near that time Iwas having so much fun with my friends in cross country I feel so fond about those days that I could never forget.

💋 Last year having a Gemini Rising but placements like Mars and Moon in the 12th made me get talked about unknowingly behind my back so keep that in mind. Girls secretly hated me and also one of my “friends” twisted my words and spread drama about me.

💋Pay special attention to Chiron and where it is in your chart ESPECIALLY if its in retrograde

Anyways I hope yall enjoyed this was very last minute and I know people have been complaining about there not being enough Solar Return observations so here I am lol. See yall next time💋

#astrology #astrology observations #solar return #my observations

400 notes · View notes

romanarose · 4 months

Text

Favorites of 2023

Hi! I've seen a lot people doing these so I thought I would too!

These are all sorts of Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal fics that delighted me this year <3

I tried to keep it to one rec per author just because I have soooooo many friends with wonderful fics and blogs who deserve recognition

If yours didn't make it, NO FEAR you are still wonderful to me <3

Everything is labeled properly in the fic so be warned, many of this contains dark!

3 series that I couldn't stop thinking about

Hungry Hearts By @atinylittlepain: The Last of Us, A Bruce Springsteen themed Joel series? SHEEEEEEEESH

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites : The Last of Us, Jackson!Joel and a victim of prolonged sexual assault. If you know me, you know I love a traumatized reader healing with the power of love and friendship

The Fractured Moon by @melodygatesauthor : Moon Knight, NON CON, dark moon boys is always a slay but the way Marc is so tortured and Steven is so needy?!?!?!?! Mels characterization of Steven may or may not have influenced my Ben in ROF

Three fics that rewired my brain

On the Waterfront by @beefrobeefcal : Triple Frontier, Now, I've always loved a tubby man with a belly (who else had a crush on Samwise Gamgee in LOTR?) BUT DARK FRANKIE?!?!?!?! Turned it into a full obsession.

I can be your pretty girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear : The Last of Us, Wow, I devoured every single chapter!!! I thinka bout it so much, ESPECIALLY that scene with Tommy... I've never looked at a pool ball the same way.

Dancing With Wolves by @hon3yboy : Moon Knight, Now, I'm not the biggest monster fucker out there, but this?!?!?!?! WEREWOLF MARC SPECTOR??? Unwell about it.

3 times men jerking off was hot

Caught by @toxicanonymity : The Last of Us, I've mentioned in the authors note for Keep Cry'n that this fic inspired it, it's one I go back to allllll the time

Take Care of me Tonight by @missdictatorme : Moon Knight, Jake is horny and lonely and jerks of..... reader helps, and makes our boy feel special <3

Pent Up by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin : Narcos, Javi is... well... pent up, needs to let loose! and boy does he.

4 times it got gay bc something is wrong with me and I couldn't decide

Behind Enemy Lines by @astroboots : Triple Frontier, Y'all know how much I love this series, seeing as I wrote a fic for it XD but this chapter is something i always hold close <3

Captain of the team by @writefightandflightclub : Triple Frontier, MAAAAAANNNNN this fic is why I will never be the same as a person.

Trine by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction : Sucker Punch. Anyone who reader blue jones should be reading this. Incredible.

What if he never had to go? by @velocibeewords : Triple Frontier, The infamous series I read on my friend bachelorette weekend! So good I couldn't put it down, going so far as to read it at a casino XD Benny and Santi, my babies

3 times underused characters shined

Oxford Comma by @whatthefishh : The Two Faces of January, Tell me, how does someone take a character with almost no following and make a series so damn beloved by many??? Only Mona could.

My Ex's Tapes by @runa-falls : Lighteningface, Basil Stilt AND Jake Lockley??!?! God bless this mess hnnggggg

I'm Getting What's Mine by @winniethewife : The Card Counter, dub con, I think we as a society need more William Tell, and sensory deprivation to break down reader? Amazing.

3 times they talked dirty to me *trumpet noises*

Not a Survivalist Girl by @tightjeansjavi and @chaotic-mystery : The Last of Us, when they finally fuck??? HELLO?!?!! unreal

Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line by @millerscoffee : The Last of Us, Joel is so degrading and condescending in this I think about it so much it's fucking unreal.

Making Trouble by @juneknight : Moon Knight, The fic that completly fried the brains of the moon knight fandom. "You cried like I was killing you—except you were begging me not to stop" yeah. Yeah...

3 times there were three or more

The story of us by @pimosworld : Triple Frontier, This series has a special place in heart bc Priscilla said I influenced a lo of it with the characterizations and thats such a big honor. Priscilla Is so talented and I adore how she writes these guys... and the FishBen wins my heart

Eyes on Me by @cavillscurls : The Last of Us, Soft Joel? Tommy watches? AFTERCARE?!?!?! Y'all know how much I love aftercare.... I should read this again shouldn't I?

Run the Table by @katiexpunk : The Last of Us, MORE TOMMY JOEL THREESOME! MORE!!!! This one came out recently so its still fresh in my mind

3 Times I should NOT have been into that

No Soul to Sell @atticrissfinch : The Last of Us, NON CON V DARK, this is the fic that made me like... yeah I'm into piss. No doubt. It was so dark and hot ;-;

Plushies Series by @pedge-page The Last of Us, Haru knows how much I love this, and it was a toss up between this and their piss kink but seeing as I got that above.... plushes needs more love bc its so soft and domestic and horny <3

Plaything by @missannwinchester : The Last of Us, wow, I adored this fic… then I lost it!!!! Thank you to everyone who helped find it bc it’s one of my favs. I wanna be Joel’s lil doll he dresses up 🥺

3 times I said “this is underrated af”

No One But Me by @koshkamartell : The Last of Us, Are y'all tired of me talking about this fic yet? Koshka told me my series The Wrong Way inspired this so it's special to my heart <3

Safe by @criticallyacclaimedstranger and @apascalrascal : Triple Frontier, Cal has so many good Frankie one shots it was hard to pick, but this one is sooooo soft. We love Frankie being willing to listen and learn.

Through the Scope by @ssuperficialspacecadett : Triple Frontier, Y'all know I love a traumatized reader learning to heal, but his fic is fantastic bc it's a traumatized reader who has done a lot of the work already and is strong and brave as it is <3 Also, all 4 of the guys are her friends now which is the best way to have a fic

Thank you all soooooo much for all these amazing fics and for a great 2023! Well. Not so great, I had terrible time lol but y'all were my solace <3

If you feel so inclined, check out my best of year wrapped for both RomanaRose and Romana-after-dark

I'm not gonna say 2024 is my year, I leanred my lesson XD I am approaching 2024 with RESPECT. It will be the year it is.

274 notes · View notes

rookthorne · 3 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬

Suspicion and lies often led to the brash decisions that ended empires, whether they were justified or proven false, it didn’t matter — what was said and done could never be taken back. It was how you developed such a keen sense for divulging the truth, and what else could you have done with such temptation being placed on a silver platter in front of you?

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♔ Closeted!Bodyguard!Stucky x Mafia!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ♔ 3.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ♔ Fluff, extreme sexual tension, implied smut, unconventional use of a knife (read: knifeplay), heated kissing, Bucky is possessive and a tease ჻჻჻ TROPES: Forbidden and Secret Relationship, Power Imbalances, Boss/Employee(s) ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, voyeurism

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ♔ Take note that I said Closeted!Stucky. ♔ I have no idea if this will turn into a consistent, prominent AU, but I still had a lot of fun writing it — we shall see.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ♔ HERE

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ♔ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Polyamory (January) — Masterlist ♔ @stuckybingo 𝗢𝟭 — Mob/Gangster AU — Masterlist ♔ @anyfandomfluffbingo Ｎ４ — Coming Out — Masterlist ♔ @mcukinkbingo Ｎ３ — Free Space — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The purr of the engine silenced itself as you turned the key, and the ringing sound in your ears fell quiet with it. You couldn’t be more grateful for the reprieve.

After a day full of foolish encounters with bastardised older men who counted themselves among the elite — only for having the shining epitome of money around their wrists or padding their wallets so they would appear a few inches taller if they stood on top of it — grated you down to the last fibres of your tether, a dangerously threadbare and poised to snap, length of steel.

“I need a fucking drink,” you groused, frowning at the steering wheel.

To cap it all off, you were well beyond your tolerance for unspoken and mysterious tension within the ranks of your men, especially of two in particular.

Before your last, dull meeting of the day, your phone chimed with an alert. It was a text from your favourite receptionist who gleefully told you that your two best men, Bucky and Steve, were awaiting you in your office.

They closed the door behind them, too.

And if you were honest, the reply to your questioning on their demeanour describing them as nervous and fidgety, like two children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, made you smile wickedly.

For years, Bucky and Steve were inseparable from one another within the ranks of your employed guard and associates.

They both worked hard to surpass the others and prove themselves, and it landed them in the prime position of being your personal guard — a guard that was meant to be at your beck and call, though you weren’t so cruel as to deprive the supposed lovers of time on their own.

Not when the thought of them alone made an unbearable heat simmer between your thighs and over your skin.

“Right,” you sighed, steeling yourself for what you were soon to witness. The two of them were no doubt waiting impatiently for whatever they had to share, though you had an inkling it involved far more personal topics than that of logistics of weapons and plans. “Here goes nothing.”

The walk through your opulent empire never failed to put a pep in your step when all of the people that rushed past inclined their heads in greeting or rushed over to greet you with nervous smiles and paperwork to sign — especially interns. Bless them, you thought, and you sent them on their way.

It was only when the elevator chimed when it reached your floor did you truly focus on the thoughts that swirled over just what you would walk into.

The sight of your favourite receptionist, who you fondly called Wands, sitting behind her sprawling desk with thinned lips in restraint was beyond amusing. Your shoes clicked over the gleaming marble while you made a beeline to her desk, arching a brow in question. “Care to tell the class, love?”

“Steve and Bucky are waiting for you but they looked nervous, even scared—I don’t know what they’re up to,” Wands rushed in one breath, her auburn hair swaying with the frantic movements of her hands. “They just asked me if you were in and I said you were otherwise engaged and I offered to call, they said yes, and then when you replied to tell them to let them in, I sent them in and–”

“Whoa, whoa, breathe, Wanda,” you soothed, and you shoved your laughter back down into your chest — a time and a place. “It’s okay, you did as I asked.” There was a hesitant pause where you tried to best work out how to word your next question.

“Miss–?”

You shook your head and barrelled on. “Can you tell me if they were… acting strangely?”

Wanda stared at you, blessedly confused, or utterly oblivious. “Strangely?”

“Yes,” you said simply, “Did they stare at one another as though the other hung the moon, or some shit.”

“Oh!” Nervous laughter made Wanda’s shoulders shake minutely. “Well, yes? I mean, their gazes were lingering–”

Bingo.

“–And I think as the door closed, they held hands? Maybe they thought I couldn’t see–?”

“That’s all I needed to know,” you said with a nod, and you threw her a sly smirk. “Take a break, love. I’ve got this—keep the phone off of the hook, I’m going to be otherwise engaged.”

Wanda blinked, hesitating for a moment, then she lifted the headset off her head and placed it on the desk before she took the phone off of the receiver. “Uh– Okay, alright. I’ll be around.”

You watched, amused, while Wanda walked away. The hesitant set of her steps gave away that she was still confused, but even she knew not to question a direct order guised under a simple request. Her slight figure disappeared behind the lift doors.

A deep, grounding breath made your shoulders rise and fall, and you turned to face your office doors. The double set of ornate barriers held many lethal secrets, but what it hid on this occasion made your mouth water with a sudden hunger.

What lay behind those doors, you suspected, would forever change the dynamic that rooted you in place with your two best men — it excited you in a way you would have never expected.

The simmer of anticipation grew to be unbearable.

Each click of your shoes over the marble echoed off of the walls like a gunshot, only barely heard over the rush of blood in your ears.

As you walked towards what lay in wait, you imagined what they could be doing behind those closed doors.

Would you find them locked in an intimately close embrace, kissing like their lives depended on it?

Or, and you prayed it was not the case, for you weren’t sure you would survive such a sight, would they be strewn over your overly large desk — one of them on his back while the other rode him like it was all he was made for. The sounds of their moans and whimpers echoed in your imagination, and for once, your steady, arrogant stride faltered.

“Calm the fuck down,” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head. “Wait and see.”

The wooden surface of the double doors was cold against your cheek, but you pressed harder up against it, straining to discern any sound that would give away what the two of them were up to — whether you were about to witness an act between lovers, or whether they were truly not what they seemed.

It was silent beyond the barrier.

The cold metal of the door handle shocked you from the vivid reverie of what could be waiting for you — it was more than likely that they would hear the door opening and hasten to separate, if they were kissing.

Slowly, and ever so carefully, you turned the handle and eased the door open, enough to allow a slither of the room to be visible. From your vantage point, you could see your desk and your high-backed chair behind the black, glossy surface of glass.

A matching set of leather armchairs were placed side by side, opposite to your throne, and you could see the back of both Steve and Bucky’s heads from their positioning — their heads were turned to face one another, lips moving in a hushed conversation.

Bucky’s face looked pained from the taut line of his brows and the deep-set frown on his lips, the gesticulation of his hands gave away that he was wanting something, and the longer you watched, the more you realised he was gesturing for Steve to move closer.

The blond seemed hesitant to move from his seat.

You didn’t move or open the door further — content to watch whatever was happening unfold.

The suspicions grew within you the longer you stared; Steve’s hands were gripping the side of the leather seat with white knuckled restraint; Bucky was nearly on his feet in his desperation for Steve to come closer.

Your tongue darted from your mouth to lick your lips, and you were about to announce your arrival, when it happened. The barely stifled gasp of surprise that fell from your lips only went unnoticed due to Bucky’s chair being shoved back and toppling to the floor as he surged to his feet.

Steve made to move as well, but Bucky was too fast — he stalked towards Steve and pulled him up by the lapels of his suit jacket, and he snarled something in his face, expression twisted with a wounded hunger.

“I said I didn’t fucking care, Stevie,” Bucky growled, his voice raspy with barely tempered anger. The way Bucky stared into Steve’s eyes ignited a heat unlike anything you’d felt before between your thighs — it was something animalistic, primal in the urge to consume someone whole. “I fucking want you—no one else,” he insisted, inching closer. “You’re it for me, for fucks sake! What do I have to do to make you see and give up this damned charade?”

Any reply Steve had to utter was lost to the wind as Bucky kissed him, his lips seeking the others like his life depended on it. The muffled squeak of surprise escaped Steve’s parted lips before he kissed back in earnest, forcing the brunette backwards against your desk with enough force to rattle the piece of furniture.

Pen cups and plant pots clattered and rolled onto the floor.

They paid no mind to any of it, too lost within one another to see you open the door wider and slip inside. The small click of the lock didn’t even deter them — you watched, entranced, while they fought each other for dominance with growls and low moans.

Bucky bared his teeth when Steve nipped his lower lip. “Fuck.” Metal fingers threaded through golden locks, and he gripped the back of Steve’s head. “That’s it,” he cooed, and he pulled Steve’s head back to better access the smooth skin of his neck. “That’s more like it, baby.”

A honeyed whine tumbled from Steve’s parted lips. “Buck–”

“Shh,” Bucky soothed, running the palm of his metal hand over the back of Steve’s head. “Just kiss me.”

You leaned back against the cool wood of your office door with a heavy breath. A devilish smile danced over your lips and pulled them taut as Steve launched himself forward with a growl, almost forcing Bucky all the way over to the other side of your desk. “Need you now–”

“I know,” Bucky soothed against Steve’s lips, and he grinned. “And you can have me, kitten.”

The groan that echoed off of the walls of your office was pornographic in nature — the lack of cameras truly a crime.

Callused, deft hands never settled over any part of their bodies; the brush of fingers and palms over their sides and over frantically bared skin — the leather jacket Bucky wore was thrown with little care, landing at your feet with a solid thunk.

The dark holsters over Bucky’s chest were plainly visible now. The glint of his trusted Gerber blade was bright against the black cotton shirt he wore, and the pair of Glocks fastened to his belt skimmed against the surface of your desk.

That same blade whirled and glinted in the air, Bucky’s right hand holding the handle of such a deadly blade with ease. “Fuck, fuck,” Bucky rasped, “Hang on.” He placed his left hand on Steve’s shoulder and pushed him back a pace. The glass squeaked with the slide of Bucky’s legs over the edge, and he stood, barely taller than his partner.

“Wha–?”

The beautiful sound of Steve’s moan while Bucky sliced open his shirt with the sharp edge of his Gerber made your toes curl; a glint of deranged lust in Bucky’s eyes as he holstered it on his hip only worsening it. Steve’s shirt wrinkled in his fists while metal plates whirred in calibration. “Kiss me harder, fucker.”

Steve chuckled breathily and instead of going for Bucky’s mouth, his lips found Bucky’s neck, and going by Bucky’s moan, it was going to heat up far too quickly for you to enjoy this particular show.

Before you could talk sense into yourself, you pushed off of the door with a flourish and predatory smirk, stepping heavily to allow the heels of your shoes click over the floor. The two of them pulled apart as though they’d been burned — horror coloured their expressions, while what little blood that reddened their cheeks drained from their faces in tandem.

“Well, well, well,” you purred, still smiling victoriously. “What have we here, boys?”

“We can explain–” Steve rushed, but you cut him off with a heated stare. The words faltered on his lips, and he fell silent.

Bucky stood there in apparent shock, still leaning hard against your desk and speechless while he stared at you with widened eyes. His knuckles were white from the grip of his fingers over the edge of the blackened glass of your desk — there was no verbal defence from him, though you sensed the surge of protective anger in his posturing frame.

From your stance as an outsider and their employer, you could tell they were identically and rightfully fear striken — to be outed within the industry was a risky move — though you felt more than vindicated with your suspicions confirmed, and you couldn’t help but feel the pull of their connection. It looped you in its trap, cinching you tight, and you let it guide your words and actions.

It was with a sense of fragility that you looked at them both, a small, soft smile replacing the wide smirk on your lips. “Don’t stop on my account,” you said, and you gestured to the drink cart next to your desk. “I knew something was going on between the two of you—I made it a game to figure out what it was, and here we are.”

There was silence as they glanced at one another, your proclamation had taken them by surprise, you guessed. “For clarity’s sake, you’re not fired,” you explained. “Quite the opposite.”

“Which means?” Bucky snapped, watching your every move like a wounded animal preparing to savagely protect itself.

“Take a seat, boys.” Bucky’s unanswered question hung in the air while Steve sat down. You looked up from the drink cart and found Bucky still standing tall, inclined slightly over Steve’s sitting frame as though to shield him from a barrage of imagined vitriol. “I said have a seat,” you repeated, offering them both a glass of whiskey. “Let’s talk.”

Bucky grudgingly took both glasses and handed one to Steve, before he sat down in his previously occupied chair. Their identical postures and rigid shoulders radiated trepidation.

You couldn’t help but smirk while your back was turned momentarily to move the cart away from the desk — lest they lose their cool and poorly tested restraint to attack one another again.

Once you turned to face them, you smiled and settled in your own high-backed leather chair. The silence crackled with a tension akin to the riskiest meetings you attended for your under bellied organisation, and you cleared your throat. “Why don’t we start with you telling me just how long my two best men have been tongue-fucking one another in secret—let alone in my office.”

Steve choked on his mouthful of whiskey while Bucky narrowed his eyes. “And why the fuck do you want to know?”

“Well,” you replied smoothly, blithely leaving his tone unchecked. “I seem to be in a bit of a predicament, boys.”

They didn’t reply to your statement; suspicions too high to allow rationality. You looked at them over the rim of your own glass, taking in how Steve seemed to make himself impossibly smaller.

A moment of tense silence passed, and you sighed heavily. Feigned interrogation tactics would either help you win or lose this battle of secrets — it was risky, they were your best men for a reason, they knew you were playing a game, but they had no way to know of your endgame. Possibilities of it, sure, but you were willing to gamble on your good standing relationship with them — a show of good faith was an extended olive branch.

You took a deep breath and shifted in your seat. A wicked, sinful idea came to the forefront of your mind with the throbbing ache between your thighs. “My predicament, boys,” you said, careful to keep your voice quiet. “Is that what I walked into just now has left me soaked, and I have no way to take care of it—it is business hours. I also have the damned rule of not fucking any of my employees, one that you two are pushing to the breaking point.”

Their combined reaction teased a smile to your lips. Bucky’s eyes bulged, and he coughed around a sharp intake of breath; Steve sat as still as stone while he stared at you in bewilderment. The hilarity of such a response amused you — you had caught them close to fucking each other on your very desk, for fuck’s sake.

“So,” you said loudly over the lasting coughs from the brunette. “We can either pretend this never happened and we go on with our days, after I address what you were in here for in the first place.”

“It was just–” Bucky tried, but you held your hand up to halt his explanation.

“Or I let the two of you off the hook and let you make a mess of my office.” They blinked, and you took a sip from your drink. It made a quiet clink against the glass when you set it back down, louder than a bullet from Bucky’s Glock in the stunned silence. “And I join in.”

That same hunger flashed in both of their eyes this time — Steve’s ocean blue turned black, Bucky’s cerulean to grey, a mesmerising transformation that unwittingly pinned you in place. Your mouth watered with the hunger to feel them and their expert touch, and you slumped back against your chair with a brow raised in question. “So, tell me—what will it be, boys?”

Bucky looked to Steve; Steve looked to Bucky. They communicated silently, something untold in their eyes.

In mesmerising unison, they stood from their armchairs and rounded your desk. The thundering of your heart could be heard within the sudden cavernous walls of your office. “I think we can make that happen,” Bucky purred, his forefinger and thumb tilting your head up as he sat back against the edge of your desk. “What d’ya think, Stevie?”

“Why the fuck not,” Steve whispered, sitting on your other side. His thigh brushed yours.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you sighed, the grin on your lips purely predatory — a well-deserved victory against the unknown.

Steve’s breath hitched and he surged forward to claim the exposed skin of your arched neck. Your fingers wound through the blond tresses like Bucky had done. “Good, fuck– Good boy, kitten.”

Through heavily lidded eyes, you looked up at Bucky and your lips parted around the words, “Come here, puppy—come on and fuck me.”

The only sounds that followed your command would be left only between the walls of your office, and if you smirked with sinful experience every time you thought of the both of them, or caught them standing too close to one another after that encounter, they winked covertly back.

You couldn’t wait for next time.

yeah, I'm dead too.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

150 notes · View notes

mystic-writings · 4 months

Text

tangled up (in strings of emotion) | wilbur soot

PAIRING – wilbur soot x fem!streamer!reader, implied wilbur x shubble

REQUEST – anon - Hi! ok so, i had a very angsty idea. basically, we all know how wilbur had a crush on shubble? basically, my idea is that wilbur and streamer!reader have been dating for a while and the internet loves them (as they should) and reader and shubble are good friends like reader, shubble and niki are all like an iconic trio, but then wilbur starts to distance from reader and spend more time with shubble and you know who catches on first? james. and then jack figures it out, and tommy and niki and the band all have it figured out and niki (i love niki more than life itself) tells reader and the readers like “fuck you, it’s me or her william.” with prompt 9 from “angst prompt 2”?? i feel like that would be really really cool and your angst is absolutely *chefs kiss* :) if you don’t wanna do it that’s fine! just a thought, have a lovely day!!

PROMPT – 9. “don’t make me choose.”

SUMMARY – you finally find out why your relationship with wilbur is falling apart, even if you didn’t see the signs.

WARNINGS – angst, hurt/no comfort, tw cheating mentions

WORD COUNT – 2,720

NOTES – i listened to haunted by tswift the entire time i wrote this bc it matches so well tbh | first fic of 2024 & no surprise, it’s ANGST !!

masterlist | taglist form

How have you been so blissfully ignorant all this time?

These past few years of your life, the ones you once looked back upon as the best of your life thus far, were tainted with a dark stain.

You don’t know how you missed it. All the signs were there, but maybe you were just too happy to believe that something could’ve been wrong in the first place.

Being a streamer, and a successful one at that, was a blessing you never thought you’d have. It led you to all of your best friends, and to your boyfriend of nearly three years. Wilbur Soot, more commonly known now as Will Gold, who you met through your friends Niki and Shelby. It felt like it was fate, meeting him. You were at a point in life where things just felt sour all the time, and you barely had the energy to create content at the time. Then, around the beginning of January 2020, Niki asked if you wanted to make a video with her, Philza, and Wilbur, and from there things were history.

After starting dating over the internet for a while, and with the lockdowns coming and going frequently, you and Wilbur met for the first time in his tiny flat in London. It was amazing, spending that time together, just the two of you. Deciding to make things public and when was a tough decision, but you thought it would be safer to do so after you took the jump and moved to England. You’d never forget that conversation, sitting on your kitchen counter at 4am.

“And you’re sure you want to do that?” Wilbur asked. “I mean, moving here, moving across the country just so we can be together it’s- it’s-”

“A big step, Will. I know. But it’s been almost a year, you know. Restrictions are lifting soon. And I want to be with you. I want to be able to see Tommy and Phil and Niki and Jack easier. I want to be happy.” You told him. “I know I have Shelby here, and I love her with everything I have, but she’s the only thing here and it’s just not enough anymore. I need you.”

After a long, anxiety-inducing silence, Wilbur sighed. “I know. I need you too. I just want to make sure you’re making the right decision here, you know? I don’t want you to have gone through all that trouble just to get here and find you don’t like it, or something happens and you have to go back, anyway.”

You shook your head, even though your boyfriend couldn’t see you. “Nothing’s going to go wrong, Wilbur. I know what I want. And besides, there’s no place on Earth I wouldn’t live if it meant I could live with you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“You should go to sleep. It’s almost 5 in the morning. You need rest.” Wilbur told you, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I know, I know. I’ll talk to you later, though. I promise.”

“Alright, darling. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Will.”

And it was after a long, unnecessarily stressful process with customs and gathering the right papers, that you finally moved in with Wilbur, who began renting an apartment in Brighton not long after the process began.

Over a several-week-long process, you met all of your best friends in person for the first time, and it was the best few weeks of your life. Niki especially was excited to meet you, and she was one of the first to do so.

Life for the next year or so was amazing to say the least. Yours and Wilbur’s respective careers were taking off, his in music and yours in streaming and on YouTube. Everything was coming out on top for the both of you, and for all of your friends.

Until now, you were the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time.

You and Wilbur had been travelling for his tour for a while now, both of you putting off streaming to travel with the rest of Lovejoy for their very first American tour. Christmas was closing in, and you were in California, visiting Shelby, Quackity, and a ton of other friends that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Wilbur’s show was amazing, as per usual, and you and Shelby spent the whole night glued to one another. Will, like he normally did during the performances when you were in the crowd, kept tossing loving glances your way for most of the set. He even dragged Quackity on stage to cover a song with him. It was truly amazing.

The trip to see your friends, and the rest of the tour overall, was amazing. After it ended and you all went back to England, you noticed a shift in Wilbur’s behaviour. At first you assumed it was just work stress and post-tour burnout of sorts, but soon it became very apparent that it wasn’t directed at anyone but you.

You spent a lot of time around Wilbur and your friends, as group hangouts became very common since you were both gone for so long. They were normally hosted at Tommy’s flat or James’, sometimes Jack’s house or round yours. It was always fun, though, and that’s what mattered.

Streams became frequent again, both solo and with whoever was available at the time, planned or not. You even did a subathon for your birthday that lasted a week and a half. You invited everyone in the area to come over for cake, called those who were too far away and everything; it truly was a wonderful birthday.

Content creation was always unpredictable, and everyone’s lives were hectic, so you weren’t too surprised when Shelby stopped communicating with you as frequently over the next few months. The summer of 2023 seemed to be busy for everyone, including yourself.

You were helping Tommy with his tours and upcoming plans, and your own plans for the future had you being pulled every which way. Wilbur even bought a house for the two of you, despite the rift that was still forming between the two of you. He spent most nights in his office, playing video games or working on music.

Still, even with the distance between you, you never would’ve guessed that the others could see it, too.

It started with James giving you odd looks whenever you’d excuse Wilbur’s lack of presence at hangouts, even when they were at your house. Then Niki, who asked if you were okay on more than one occasion. Then Jack, who came to you about an editing problem and brought up how you hadn’t mentioned Wilbur in a little while, and whose mood seemed to sully when you shrugged and told him it was because he was very busy right now. Then one by one, it seemed everyone was catching onto it, and you nearly shouted at them to leave you alone, because it was your relationship and you didn’t see any problems.

Even if Wilbur barely slept in the same bed as you anymore. Even if he rarely ever touched or kissed you anymore.

Niki. Poor, unfortunate Niki, was the first to find out why. She never told you how, or who told her, but she was the only one who knew. She came to you with it on a beautiful Friday afternoon, a day where you both decided to not stream in favour of a nice, relaxing afternoon in your backyard, drinking coffee at a little table in your garden, full of flowers and flourishing at your hand and hard work.

She’d seemed off to you the entire time she was there, quietly sipping on her second cup of coffee and admiring the flowers.

“Are you okay, Niki?” You’d asked, eyeing her with concern.

Her eyes snapped to yours from the peonies beside her. “What? I’m fine, Y/n, don’t worry.”

“You sure?” You asked. “You seem… off. Like something’s bothering you. If you want to talk, we can, I mean, we’ve been friends for long enough that you can tell me anything you want. You know that, right?”

“Of course, I’m not an idiot.” She stated, fiddling with her fingers. Her stature was small, eyes attempting to steer clear of your gaze and finding solace in her mug. “I just- I don’t know if you’ll like what I have to say, and I don’t want to hurt you. You’re my best friend.”

You smiled gently at the girl. “Don’t worry, Niki. If there’s something you need to tell me, I’m sure I can handle it. You can’t hurt me that badly.”

Your smile faltered when Niki’s weary eyes met yours. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I only found out last night, and I hate to be the one to tell you, especially because it’s not any of my business, I just felt that you needed to know, I-”

“Niki, calm down,” you reached out to place your hand atop hers, and she turned it over to grip it in return. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Wilbur.” She sighed, and your heart rate skyrocketed. “I know why he’s not acting himself around you.”

“Is he okay? I mean, he’s healthy right?” You asked. “Why wouldn’t he tell me this himself?”

“Because he didn’t want you to know.” She said, tears forming in her eyes. “He’s not sick or anything, Y/n. He’s… he’s in love with someone else.”

The world around you could’ve set fire and you wouldn’t have known. Niki’s words rang in your ears, and your heart plummeted from the place in your chest, as if Wilbur himself had dropped it from the safe place you put it; right into his hands.

“With who? Do I know her?”

Niki only nodded, sniffling and blinking away her tears while yours threatened to fall. After a long silence and a heavy sigh, she squeezed your hand again and opened her mouth, her next words coming out shakily. “It’s… Y/n, it’s Shelby.”

You pulled your hand from hers. “What?”

“They’ve been talking for months now. She told me last night and I haven’t spoken to her since then,” Niki swore. “She said she feels bad for doing this to you, especially because she rejected Wilbur for a long time and you’re best friends. I guess she couldn’t stop herself after a while. I don’t know. All she said was that Wilbur initiated it.”

“She still participated.” You said, words lined with tears. “Do you know how long he’s been… been pursuing her?” You nearly gagged on the words.

Niki nodded. “Since the LA performance in December.”

Somehow, your heart fell further than it did before.

Finding out was a blessing and a curse, really. Everything started to make sense once you truly thought it over. All those nights holed up in his office lately, the distance that formed after the tour ended. Those loving glances during the LA show. Somehow, you could tell now that they weren’t for you.

After you talked and cried more about it with Niki, she left to go tend to her cats in her apartment, and offered a place to stay if you needed it.

You spent hours on the couch, anxiously awaiting Wilbur’s return from the studio. Your stomach turned with the thought that he could be on the phone with Shelby right now, chatting and making her laugh and telling her how much he felt for her. You almost broke when you wondered if he’d ever told her he loved her.

Finally, well after sundown, the door creaked open and shut. In walked Wilbur, guitar case gripped in one hand, shoulders sagging from the weight of the day.

“Hello, love.” You said, barely looking at him, words cold as ice.

He tossed a quick glance at you. “Hi, darling. How was your day?”

“Good.” You said, watching him lean the guitar against the arm of the couch, lazily kissing your head as he did.

Somehow, after all these months of being emotionally distant, Wilbur could tell something was wrong. “You okay?” He asked as he headed to the kitchen on the opposite side of the house.

With a sigh, you stood up and clenched your fists. Might as well get it over with. “What’s going on with you lately, Will?”

His brows furrowed as he stopped in the doorway, turning to face you. “What d’you mean? I’m fine, darling.”

“No you’re not.” You said. “You’ve been distant, and for a while now. You’ve been borderline avoiding me. It’s like you’re not even in a relationship with me! Like you don’t want to be in a relationship with me anymore! Did you know our friends have noticed? Every time I show up to a gathering without you they ask what’s wrong. Where you are. And I have nothing to say because I didn’t think anything was wrong.”

Wilbur sighed, face scrunched with indignation. “That’s because nothing’s wrong. I’m just busy.”

“Really? What, busy talking to Shelby?”

Wilbur’s face fell, the colour going with it.

“Yeah, don’t act surprised, Will. I know.” You said, the emotion finally flowing back to you. “I know you’ve been seeing my best friend behind my back. I know you’ve been pursuing her for a year. Niki told me. She said you’ve been after Shelby, wearing her down, trying to get her to go behind everyone’s back. After all this time, after everything we’ve been through, and you cheat on me with her of all people? My best friend. The woman who helped introduce us and you didn’t think I’d find out at some point?”

“Look, it’s not what you think, I just-”

“Just what, Wilbur?” You asked, biting back a sob. “Just wanted to use me to get to her? I don’t even know why you asked me out in the first place. I knew you had a crush on her before we started dating.” You breathed a shaky sigh, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I guess I was just naive enough to think you’d gotten over it. Maybe you did, for a little while.”

“I swear, it’s nothing like that, Y/n. I love you, I do.” He pleaded. “Just let me explain everything, please.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I can’t believe you, Wilbur. You bought a house for us! I moved here for you! We were building a life together! And you tore it all down for her!” You screamed. The neighbours could probably hear you by now, but you didn’t care. You needed to let everything out. “I left my family behind, my life behind for you. That’s how much I love you. I guess you just don’t love me enough to do the same.”

“Y/n, don’t- I love you, too. We can fix this, I swear. I promise.”

“Fuck you.” You spat, catching Wilbur off guard. “You don’t love me. Not enough to cheat on me with one of my best friends. So fuck you, William. It’s me or her. You don’t get to have us both. I won’t put myself through that.”

Wilbur’s eyes filled with emotion, with indecision. “Don’t. Please, Y/n, don’t make me choose.”

You stepped closer to him, fury burning through you. “Fine, then I will. I don’t know what the hell you thought you could do when you got yourself into this, but you’re sure as hell not gonna keep dating me.”

Before Wilbur could speak, you were marching upstairs to your bedroom – the room you spent more time in than Wilbur did – texting Niki on your way to pack a bag. Your heart was crumbling to dust in your chest, and the emotion was finally replacing whatever temporary anger you felt, crashing through you like waves, putting out the fire within you.

Wilbur begged and pleaded as you packed your bag, but you didn’t listen. You just packed whatever was necessary, whatever you could think to bring for the night. You’d come back for the rest later.

15 minutes later, after a quiet Uber ride, you were sitting in Niki’s living room, crying and wondering what you were going to do next. Because you changed your life for Wilbur, and it was his reckless betrayal that tore it all down around you.

forever taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality@mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @heliads

wilbur soot taglist: open!

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot angst #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader

173 notes · View notes

sp00kymulderr · 21 days

Note

gideon!!!! congratulations on the milestone!!! absolutely so so deserved and i’m sorry I just now saw the post! 🖤

💭i’d like to request ''stay tonight.'' from the prompt list, maybe with ezra?? I miss him 🫶🏻

wonderful Liv! I'm so sorry this has been in my inbox since January. Me and Ezra were having a moment, but things are all good now. I humbly offer you this:

Starlit

sex worker!Ezra x afab!reader

694 words

Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI. sex work, oral (reader receiving)

He is always the first thing on your mind when you arrive here.

The beautiful silver-tongued man with starlight in his eyes. Known by many and more than once by you, memories of him seared both on your flesh and in your mind.

Standards of travel have left you wanting, needing. Your fingers never work you the way another can, your touch never grips the way a lover can. Worst of all, the remembered whisper of his voice in your ear leaves you without the comfort of his warmth and sincere affection.

Ezra advertises his services as comfort. He sells sex, yes, but moreso he sells a few needed hours of companionship to the weary traveller, the tired prospector, the anguished fringeling far from home. He is generous with what he gives, not just in passion but in succour, in the intimacy of his whispered weaving stories as he holds you - he offers a piece of himself. Ezra provides comfort, and pleasure, and it is always more than worth the cost.

He is like an artist, you think. His art is being able to relieve the tired ache of your bones, and leaving your soul a modicum lighter than it felt upon arrival here.

There’s a stream of sunlight warming the bed as Ezra works between your thighs today. Your fingers hold in his soft hair with a gentle tug as he works what you can only describe as magic, that silver tongue finding it's way towards your second release of the day.

Your breath comes shallow; the way he flattens his tongue against you and stretches you on his fingers at the same time makes your legs shake in assailing delectation. He is a god, divinity in pleasure, and you thank you star that you came to find him on this miserable planet again.

You are, of course, just one of many but you like to think he doesn't look at the others the way he does you, the way his sparkling eyes meet yours as you look down upon him now, as he eats you like a blessed repast.

Your back arches, a gripping feeling of closeness tightening your core. His fingers curl, his plush lips sucks until you cry out and pull again. The room is hot and your bodies are warm, sticky. His own hips rut against the mattress as yours rise in increasing desperation. This gift of his, it takes you over. You are stardust as your body trembles, heart pumping wildly. The sweetness of release finally lays itself upon you. Oh. He is a god. Some spirit of heavenly pleasure.

You wish he could be yours forever.

You whimper his name over and over as you come down from a high unlike any other.

"Ezra...Ezra...my Ezra"

He kisses your twitching clit a few times more, never quite ready to give up your taste – he had told you before that he doesn’t do this only for the money but also for his own desires.

Finally he rises to lay over you, his body heavy and hot on yours, the hardness of him grinding against your soaked centre as he eyes you curiously.

"Yours?" He whispers, a devilish smile on his lips that makes you quiver again lustfully.

"Yes, mine...tonight?" You whisper, thankful that he understands it when you words are staccato and flustered.

You've never had him stay for more than a few hours. Never been so lavish with hard earned credits, but money feels no object right now as your cunt flutters and pulses at the thought of a full night with him. To wake up beside him is an experience worth all the money in the universe, you imagine.

Your fingers play in the white-blonde patch of hair. Curious, like him. You know little of this man and yet you want him in your bed for as long as you can possibly keep him.

He is a symphony of raucous desire.

“Stay tonight” You murmur, pulling him in to a searing kiss as soon he nods his agreement.

You know so little of him, but what you do know if that one night with this starlit man - even though it makes you poorer - will make you richer in heart and soul.

#ezra prospect x reader #sp00ky follower celebration #💭

57 notes · View notes

aheathen-conceivably · 5 months

Text

My 𝐓𝐨𝐩 𝟐𝟑 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 from 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 🎉

I was tagged by the marvelous @theplottdump in her recap but also inspired by @cinamun ‘s version by month (partially because my brain can only process things chronologically but also because we live for a style/story evolution).

So here are my top 23 favorite screens of 2023 month by month, and just know this was difficult so some months have more than others!

I tag the lovely @antiquatedplumbobs @stargazingsims @sasaofastora @alainas-sims plus anyone else who would like to!

January (aka Gatsby Month):

February:

March:

No favorite photos? In my favorite month? A travesty, truly.

April:

May:

June (the month I got reshade and caused interpersonal drama for literally everyone oops):

-July (*ahem* 1929 bless you all for surviving):

-August (wholesome AU vibes):

-September (the month AU Gio-Jo had me in a literal chokehold):

-October (the 1930s!):

-November:

-December:

But, alas, that only brings us to 22! That’s because the final one is actually from the next story post, so if you've made it this far please have a little spoiler below the cut and perhaps my favorite screenie I've taken this year...

#thanks Surely baby this was a blast 🥹#not even gunna try to match your music vibes they were perfection #also tried not to include the spoiler but I love it too much it deserves to live here forever #tag game #simblr tag game #Darlington extras

100 notes · View notes

rebouks · 5 months

Text

Faves of 2023..

Picked some of my fave story screenies for each month of the year! I think we've definitely been through a lot 😳 ty for the tag @thebramblewood n' prolly someone else I've forgotten <33

January: What have you done..?!

February: Robin blesses us all with his arrival 😭

March: Sad boi hours with Wyatt..

April: Oscar will never grow up!

May: Oscar and Cookie officially become Oskie and Somnium ended 🥺

June: We moved on to a new story, Forever in Between, and Oscar bought a haunted? house on a whim..

July: Oscar and Robin have the best relationship 🤧

August: Tilda & Triss pissed us all off by NOT kissing 😒

September: Brynn took Wyatt on a lil adventure! ❄

October: Brynn told Wyatt her story and they exchanged ily's 🥰

November: Wyatt kicked Gael in the chops 🤩

December: Wyatt.exe stopped working...

Ahhhh we've come so far, and we've almost reached the end of the first arc of Forever in Between! Thanks to everyone who sticks around for my pixels and/or my bullshit.. ily all very much 🥰🤗

I shall tag.. @wolfavens @zosa95 @lynzishell @softpine @peonypyxels @jarakio and uhhh.. my mind is blank but pls ignore if you've already done this and pls also say i tagged you if you want!! super fun looking back over the year 🤭

Some bonus non-story posts I rlly still like too, both glimpses of older Robin...

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #simblr #ahhhh we've seen a lot this year!#still can't believe we started fib in JUNE!#i got majorly sidetracked by Wyatt as u can see #lmaooo #sdkjsk #worth it tho.. loved his lil arc #will be wrapping up soon then it's timeskip tiiiime woo!!#i also will probs take a break but i'll still be posting bullshit u kno.. maybe not as frequent idk #kinda busy atm #>.<#twgun

94 notes · View notes

amalthiaph · 4 months

Text

✨2023 ART RECAP✨

Ok ok ok okayyyy so I know I've said this before but since it's the end of the year, I will say it again: my 2023 art journey is EVERYTHING my 2023 january self only ever wished for.

When I stepped into Tumblr, I really thought it's gonna be like the other sites for me, but nope, that's not how we rolled here. Unlike other sites where I need to either be pretty, popular, or have a good follower count or all of the above, my reach wouldn't be as far. But in Tumblr, none of that matters. All that matters are a good heart and a good sense of humor.

I have been blessed with people who are appreciative of what I do, and I'm really, really thankful for all of you. I was in a bit of a problem lately but you all still stood by me and even helped me.

You are all part of what made 2023 a GREAT year for me.

Thank you very much, and may the Force be with us all.

#small artist #art recap #happy new year #2023 art #star wars #sw art #star wars art #fanart

58 notes · View notes

loretta-dont-you-oppress-me · 6 months

Text

Update on my Life

What happened so far ... a long time ago ...

I was so tired of all the talking and arguing and bickering and judging. And I thought: It's time to move on! I need some Good Omens in my life.

And lo! So much has happened lately:

I have found a new family and new friends

photo courtesy of @bil-daddy and @docdust

I have found a new congregation (not a church!)

I became a disciple of Bildaddy the Shuite (and also a bit of a friend)

I got a job as 666th scrivener at the @shutanictemple

photo courtesy of @bil-daddy and @docdust

I have been promoted to 666th Senior Administrator of the Shutanic Temple

We have started an orphanage for kids (human) for a whole bunch of kids --> @shutanic-temple-orphanage

I am truly blessed with choices

This is me with Crowley. I met her on a the rather dreary occasion of a mass crucifixion. We were both there to mourn a friend.

I feel so seen

I am assistant wedding planer at the wedding of @mrazfellco and @bil-daddy

I have become a muse to artists

Artworks by @lacking-hydration and by @lafakiwi-draws-archive

@shutanic-temple-orphanage is now all set up with a petting zoo. Here is a rare glimpse of its outskirts:

me and @bil-daddy on our way to feeding the greedy bunch ...

I have my own music video now:

Loretta - You'll be a woman soon.

On January 18th @bil-daddy and my humble self opened the @shutanic-temple-art-gallery

(Stay tuned for further developments ...)

#shutanic temple #loretta #a companion to owls #life of brian good omens overload #eric idle rejuvenated #good omens related fan fiction #loretta's orphanage #bildad universe #bildad nation #life of brian #good omens #gender fluid #gender bending #transgender #land of uz #i believe in miracles #i believe in me

98 notes · View notes

anavatazes · 5 months

Text

Learn to be a Texas Southern, From Austin.

Ok. First of all, I love you all. I truly do. I adore my fan fic writers, especially if you write my Joel crack... um, stories. *cough* The man keeps me in a bear hug and refuses to let go. Not that I am complaining ;).

BUT, for the LOVE of all that is holy and good and Joel, STOP using any American TV show or movie for reference to how things are in Texas as far as the food, the way they talk, the way the weather is, how and what a BBQ is, and I swear if I see another one with snow...

Like I said, I love you all. Yes, fan fiction is fantasy. You can write what you want. How you want. That's what is so great and wonderful about it. Get creative, get wild. Go crazy! But don't sit there and act like you do your research and are an accurate little miss that can do no wrong. Nuh-uh. I will find a slew of little old ladies that will Bless Your Hearts from here to Oblivion if you call Ribs with BBQ sauce proper BBQ in Texas. Believe you me. Every State in the Union has their own form of BBQ, and in the Southern States, it's a fucking religion akin to College Football and Jesus.

American TV and movies are pretty generic when it comes to the accuracy of our own culture and will take great liberties when trying to pass off one area for another. This includes accents, ways people speak, and how the areas they are in truly are. I touched on this briefly when I went over the whole Bless Your Heart phrase and how it does not mean what you think it means and it can get pretty offensive quick. American TV likes to go for the shock value, and the drama more than it likes to go for the accuracy and really doesn't care who it offends in the process. And older shows, like Dallas, Southerners don't talk like that anymore. Except maybe a few left in Kentucky... Maybe. Watch play-throughs of the games if you want a feel for how Joel speaks. Especially the first one. Stay away from the second one if you are trying to avoid season 2 spoilers for the show.

No Outbreak!/Pre-Outbreak!Joel will spend Saturday mornings with Sarah hiking. And there are next to no hills (unless man-made) in Austin. It's all flatland. No mountains. A few rivers, and Lake Travis isn't far away. A lot of trails all around Austin from 1999 to 2013, depending on when you wanted to have Outbreak Day if you wanted it at all. They'd probably go to one of a trillion restaurants in Austin for lunch, depending on their taste. It is canon that Joel can't cook. Tommy, Ellie, AND Sarah all bring it up in Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, if you know where to look. I would say one of their favorite places would be Home Slice for some great pizza. Or maybe even Torchies for a wide variety of tasty Tex-Mex food. Maybe even pick up some Brisket (Texas BBQ) to take home to get ready for an afternoon spent watching the University of Texas football game on the TV, if we're in August to January. Honestly, May through the beginning of October, they probably aren't doing too much hiking. The temperature of 100° plus (in Fahrenheit) is all the rage at this time. And you might have high humidity one day, with non-stop thunderstorms that might seem like a hurricane, and can spawn a tornado, but really isn't a hurricane. Then the next day, be the dryest heat that you've ever experienced in your life. Though, from what I've heard, the latter rarely happens now. More humid days are common now.

Texas BBQ.

If you are ever in the Southern United States, do yourself a favor, and just do not call anything related to the grill BBQ, ok. You will be better off and have a nicer visit, and life overall. If you like to live dangerously, go ahead and call the grill a BBQ. Call a cookout a BBQ. Go ahead. I'll wait. I'll have the tissues ready and waiting for the passive-aggressive politeness from the ladies and the open hostility from the not-so-gentlemen. You have a Cookout, or you Grill out. A BBQ is a way of life and means something different in each state (and will start a war in North Carolina because they are so special, they have two kinds of BBQ). Most everyone in (at least the South) can agree that BBQ food is some sort of slow cooked meat. In Texas, almost 99% of the population agrees it's Brisket, and the rest are wrong. (That's another Southern thing, they are right, and everyone else is just wrong. Drives me nuts when they use it in an argument). Now, they will have different ways of preparing it, and they will have fights over it (have witnessed several), but they all agree on Brisket.

Being close to the Mexican border and Texas' history as a part of Mexico once upon a time means that there is a heavy Mexican influence in Austin. As much as Texas likes to claim to be white bread, it really isn't. From the food to the people to the names of streets, cities, etc, there is a heavy Mexican influence. The idea that, somewhere, that Joel and Tommy have Latino blood is not far-fetched. Especially on the show. At the very least they would have a basic understanding of Spanish. That is being from Austin, regardless if they share any Mexican heritage or not.

Politeness and the True Southern Gentlemen.

I hate to break it to you, but there is no such thing as the great Southern Politeness and Hospitality. In fact, if a guy comes up to me and says he's a True Southern Gentleman, I'm running the other way. That "Gentleman" is 9/10 times a walking sexual assault case. This is not to say there are no nic+e and polite people in the South, but it is no different from any other place in the US. But, I will tell you, from the upper middle class on up, they can be some of the most passive-aggressive mother fuckers you will ever meet. From the Mid-Middle Class on down, the more hospitable they will be, and they fit the stereotype the upper class has somehow gotten. It's a mess.

Religion

Not everyone in the South is Christian, or devout, but will say a phrase that will make you think they are. I touched on this in my Bless Your Heart post. As God as my Witness, Good Lord Willin', Christ Almighty, and others are common phrases you will hear in the South. It DOES NOT mean the speaker is religious by any means. Trust me.

That's all I have for now. I could go on, as there is more. And please remember, fan fiction is fantasy, it's creative. Write what you want. This is just to help out those who are looking for more accuracy. And as it has been a while since Austin for me, and you are from Texas, and more specifically Austin, and you wish to add more info, and/or correct anything, feel free, please. There are a lot of differences among the Southern States, and it can be a pain to keep it all straight. So I have no problem in receiving help to keep in all in line :).

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction

44 notes · View notes

curiositydooropened · 1 year

Text

My Whole Life, Too

Seven years after you've left Hawkins, a beautiful day for a wedding in New Mexico brings up old feelings. You're hoping to make the most of it with the comfort of best friends.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader, previous Steve Harrington x Reader

Wordcount: 8,419

Warnings: smut & smut adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), angst, lots of gushy friendship talk, weddings, drinking, mentions of drugs and cigarettes, so much guilt, Steve Harrington slander, lovin' both the boys, fluff, oh and Jancy

Navigation • Masterlist

---

January 1994 - Albuquerque, NM

The pale blue chiffon of your dress wrinkled in the car, and your mouth tasted of wax from when the peachy pink lipstick clipped your teeth and smeared over your chin a few minutes earlier. You’d scrubbed at it with a wet forefinger, scrutinizing your reflection in an oblong mirror beside the gift table, but you couldn’t help but lick at your front two teeth self-consciously.

You ankles ached under your weight in your new heels, and each burst of winter, mountain air prickled the stubble beneath your nylons, but you were rooted to your spot in the lobby, nearest the guest book, making eye contact with each and every wedding guest as they entered through the chapel doors.

So far, several little old ladies in lace collared dresses eyed you up, and several families with too-many kids stumbled in from the cold. You hadn’t seen a familiar face since you arrived, and you couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

From this vantage, you could barely see out into the parking lot, where snow was packed along the curve and inside oversized planters and the afternoon sun was just starting to dip low beneath the mountains, kissing everything in golds and roses. It was a beautiful day for a wedding.

Three teenagers entered, all three of them ducked over handheld video games, and just beyond you saw the swoosh of impeccable brown hair. Your heart thundered in your ears, mouth gone fully dry. You flattened clammy hands to the midsection of your dress and stood at full height to greet Steve Harrington.

Though, suddenly all of your rehearsed greetings had flown out of your mind. The only thing you could think of were the last things he said to you, the hurt blurring those big doe eyes, his mouth slightly agape, his fingertips grasping at your t-shirt as you released his shoulders and said goodbye. Well those things and Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love, which had been playing on loop in this little lobby since you’d arrived.

A woman excused you out of her elbow-range as she signed the guestbook, sending you a little off-kilter and almost into a stunning satin-decked wreath, but you managed to catch yourself on the windowsill, cooling your palms as your prints came back fogged over. You ran a chilled hand over your face and released a breath you’d been holding for minutes and hoped to God this wasn’t a dry wedding.

That’s when you heard the familiar scold of a best friend. “Eddie, top-button. Robin, no more singing. Honestly, how old are you two?”

Nancy Wheeler entered looking tighter-wound than she was a month ago, when you’d last seen her. Her bangs were cut short, hair black, thin fingers busying themselves with Eddie Munson’s bolo tie. Eddie looked miffed by the action, like a school boy embarrassed by his mom, but he daren’t move a muscle lest he get smacked. Beside them, Robin Buckley adjusted a tie of her own, flattened the lapels of her velvet blazer against her chest.

And it was just them, just the three, alone in the entryway, Nancy fussing over their appearances before perfectly manicured nails went to ensure her oversized earrings were still clipped to her lobes. You glanced around one last time for Steve, but found a parking lot full of old people and void of any handsome young men whose hearts you’d broken. With a deep breath, and a clench of your shaking fists, you took a step toward them.

“Hey, strangers.”

Robin let out a shriek that sent a pen flying from gasps at the guest book, and when Nancy shushed her, she snickered and wrapped her long arms around you to breathe a greeting into your ear, all clove cigarettes and patchouli. “Hey, stunner. Missed you.”

“You too,” you smiled and let her rock you into her hug. You were almost her height in your heels.

She released you, her hair sticking to your lipstick, and you reached out to melt the wax off the strands with your fingertips.

“Have you seen him?” Nancy asked, slipping in between you to give you the tightest hug you’d ever received.

Your heart jolted a little in alarm, glancing over her head to the parking lot beyond. Still no Steve. When you pulled away, you noticed Nancy stood on the toes of her own high heels, stretched to get a good view of the chapel behind you, and you realized she wasn’t talking about the same person. “I’m sure Jonathan’s getting ready with the other groomsmen. He hasn’t been out this way.”

Nancy’s gaze met yours then, a harsh glare in blue, but you saw the fear in her eyes, wondered if your stare mimicked her own. She squeezed your forearm and shrugged, as though she could care less, as though she didn’t sit in your apartment last month downing glasses of wine and confessing her and Jonathan had had a Thanksgiving tryst for the first time in seven years. “Oh well,” she nodded toward the hall where the guests had begun to funnel. “Shall we?”

Another gust of wind fanned your hair, ruffled your skirt, and you glanced one last time at the nearly vacant lot before a scraggly head of hair blurred your view. You blinked until Eddie’s smile came into focus, head tilted to meet your gaze. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You breathed a nervous laugh and allowed his arms to envelope you in a hug. He was warm and a little damp under the arms, but distinctly Eddie, all murmured chuckles and cigarette smoke. But with your face buried into his hair, you sensed something else that made your heart stop, something familiar, something Steve.

“How long’s it been? Two years?” He asked, pulling away. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and you noticed the purple scarring that etched his throat, just beyond too tight of a collar. He must have seen your gaze, because he reached up to unbutton the top button and loosen the tie, two strands of leather and a carved silver demon’s face. You snorted.

“Yeah, just about.” The last time you’d seen Eddie had been on a New Years ski trip to the Harrington’s time share. Your memories of that trip were fogged with White Russians and too much time in a hot tub. You remembered Eddie’s bare ass, stark white, when he’d been dared to make a snow angel.

“You look beautiful as ever,” he flashed you those sharp canines.

“You don’t clean up bad yourself,” you smiled, though his compliment had fallen a bit on deaf ears. You hadn’t dressed up for him.

“Hey, don’t sound so shocked.” He scoffed, adjusting the lapels of an old blazer. It looked a bit small for his shoulders, a bit tight, and you swallowed. Maybe that’s why he smelled of Steve, maybe he’d borrowed it.

A groan sounded from behind you, and you pulled your attention from Eddie’s shoulders to see Nancy impatiently tapping her clutch to her hip, just outside the chapel door. She gestured for the two of you to hurry, and you felt Eddie’s hand on the small of your back to follow you inside.

Robin had already shuffled into a pew near the back and was thumbing through a hymn book. Nancy shoved you out of the way before shuffling in beside her.

“Wheeler said Robin and I aren’t allowed to sit next to each other,” Eddie mumbled just over your right ear, and you snorted before pulling yourself into the seat beside Nancy. He followed.

She snatched the hymn book out of Robin’s hand and tucked it back in its pocket. “Could you sit still for like two seconds?”

“Could you?” Robin snapped. “Jesus, Nance, how much coke did you do this morning?”

Appalled, Nancy shushed her. You snickered. Eddie wrapped his arm over your shoulder to lean in. “You have coke? And you aren’t sharing?”

“I knew I should have left you in Hawkins,” she reached past you to tighten his tie again.

You leaned back against his arm to make eye contact with with Robin, who flashed you a goofy grin, and for just a moment, you felt at peace. You didn’t need Steve to fall back into the chaos of this friendship. You didn’t need stolen moments of romance, you needed Robin’s raspy laughter and Nancy’s neurosis to keep you grounded, to remind you why you agreed to go in the first place.

“So how are you?” Robin asked, propping her elbow to the back of pew.

Eddie reached his fingers to tickle her, and you smiled, shrugged.

“Heard you had a good time in Louisville,” she waggled her eyebrows and your heart sank to your knees.

“Robin,” Nancy hissed. She knew the whole story, from your perspective. You’d gone to Louisville for a conference, invited Steve to join you for the weekend, didn’t expect him to say what he’d said, to request what he did. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Robin about it. You should have known Steve would get to her first.

“Steve says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it, by the way,” Eddie pitched in from beside you.

You felt your entire body heat with embarrassment, and you turned to face a Cheshire grin. Did everyone know?

“Jesus Fuck, you two!” Nancy squealed, and a woman in front of you turned to shush you all loudly, covering the ears of a little boy.

With a groan, you buried your face in your hands and accepted the squeeze and shake of Eddie’s arm around your shoulder, the vibration of his chuckle against your right arm.

Nancy’s apology was cut short by the chime of the organ, and the shuffle of guests in their seats. You craned to see the minister at the podium, a man with a swoosh of brown hair that had you letting out a frustrated exhale. He wouldn’t be here, but apparently he’d haunt you.

The groom entered first, linked arms with his mother, and you almost didn’t recognize him. Argyle was tightly pressed into a handsome sky blue tuxedo, luxurious hair pulled back into a low pony tail. A handlebar mustache traced his upper lip, and you half-expected it to fall off when he bent down to plant a kiss to his mother’s cheek. She was crying already.

“If it’s any consolation, he told me he was staying home in solidarity with Dustin,” came a whisper to your temple.

“What?” You turned to see Eddie frowning back to you, face the most serious you’d seen it in years.

Eddie nodded sideways to the bridesmaids and groomsmen that had begun to file in two-by-two, arms linked and sleeves ruffled. You watched head after head of beautiful brunette women glide by in lavender. “Since Dustin and Suzie broke up.” Eddie explained into your hair.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he didn’t shave for his best friend’s wedding.” Nancy scoffed under her breath beside you.

Jonathan stood beside Argyle, warm smile stretched across his boyish features, just beneath the ghost of a mustache. It was clear he couldn’t quite grow one like the groom, tried as he might. He looked more like a French waiter in baby blue. You watched his eyes scan the crowd, and saw the smile widen when he spotted the four of you, and you joined Eddie in waggling your fingers his direction.

“Stop it,” Nancy snapped beside you, and you dropped your hand to your lap reflexively.

You felt Eddie’s chuckle beside you again, warm, welcome. You turned to flash him a smile, and he winked.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise.” The minister announced, and you all shuffled your bags to your seats to stand.

You wobbled a little, sandwiched tightly between Nancy and Eddie, and you groped for his hand for balance until his grasp tightened around yours, firm and unyielding, another safe space.

The music changed tempo, and the organ sounded the first few chords of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. You heard humming in front of you, felt the thrumming of fingers against the back of your hand, and you smiled at your friends’ inability to keep quiet. A few notes in, the bride entered.

Eden was a vision in white, hidden beneath a massive veil and more rhinestones than you’d ever seen. She waltzed in on her father’s arm, a portly man who looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. He also donned a mustache. The detail made you smile, made you think of your own father, made you imagine yourself slow-stepping to the alter.

“Shit,” Nancy hissed from behind you, and you glanced to see her mopping at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. You laughed and were glad to see Robin reaching around to envelope Nancy in a side hug.

Nancy didn’t do well at weddings. Not since her almost nuptials four years ago in Boston. She’d been a month out, crying mascara stains into steamed linens while you and Robin called florists and caterers and DJs. Pete was a nice guy, but he wasn’t the one. She couldn’t be the hard-hitting journalist she was with a mousy man like him under her thumb. It was right to set him free, and she knew it.

You knew the feeling. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and the minister asked for you all to be seated.

Eddie released your hand and slung his arm over your shoulders again to jostle Nancy. She sniffled and patted his hand. You gave a squeeze to the soft skin of her knee where her skirt split and exposed her nylons.

“This better not be a dry wedding,” she muttered under her breath, and you laughed at the reflection of your own thoughts while the minister began reciting scriptures about love.

—

You made it through the ceremony and down to the reception hall relatively unscathed, catching up with old friends and grateful to find many men behind an open bar. In fact, you were a whole three bites into your salad (and one glass of champagne in) before Eleven mentioned his name.

“Where’s Steve?”

A cherry tomato evaded your fork and bounced off rose colored linens.

“Back in Hawkins like a loser,” Robin explained, crunching down on a crouton.

You tried and failed to do anything but stare at the food on your plate.

“You guys are living together, right Eddie?” Will asked from across the table.

That caught your attention. You gaze shot to Eddie, who was already watching you, a sheepish look across wolfish features. He nodded and tongued at something in his molars, reaching for the beer bottle in front of him. “Uh, yeah. Since June.” He sipped. You watched the bubbles fizz in the amber liquid.

You supposed it had been an easy detail to miss in Louisville, what with all of the other ludicrous things Steve had spouted.

“Get any time in the bathroom?” Mike snickered behind his own beer.

Eddie smiled, shrugged. “Not really, but hey, beats paying out my ass in rent. You of all people should know that teachers don’t make dick for a salary, and turns out, neither do janitors, so…” He glanced sideways at you again before turning back to the salad in front of him.

“Yeah, but I have a girlfriend who works for the government,” Mike concluded, tugging Eleven tighter under his arm. She rolled her eyes, but seemed pleased to belong to someone.

You felt your own cheeks heat, and you went back to staring at your plate.

“Gross,” Robin managed between mouthfuls.

“Are you and Steve…?” Eleven started, and panic rose in your chest, constricting your airflow, until you looked up and realized the girl was asking Eddie. He nearly choked on his own tomato, slamming his fist to his chest while Robin barked a laugh that stirred the attention of several tables nearby.

“No, no,” Eddie wheezed, taking a chug of his beer. His hair shook around his face, and you noticed the shy smile building on the corners of his lips. “No, I’m not exactly Harrington’s type.”

“Too emotionally available?” Nancy snipped from beside her brother. You shot her wide eyes, and she just shrugged, forking her own crouton between thin lips. Champagne made her bitchy.

“Alright, enough about Dingus. He isn’t even here to defend himself.” Robin sighed, taking a sip from her own flute.

You felt Eddie’s arm drape over the back of your chair again, the warmth of him mixing with the champagne that had begun to tingle the apples of your cheeks. “What about you, Robin? Any prospects?”

She sighed from your other side. “I have been talking to a girl in the Peace Corps.” There was trepidation to her tone.

“…but?”

She glanced your direction and flashed a cheeky grin. “I, too, am into emotionally unavailable women.”

You picked up your rogue tomato and tossed her direction. She squawked and dodged it, and it rolled somewhere far off to be squished beneath a heel or kicked across the dance floor.

“Hey, guys!” A cheerful greeting announced Jonathan’s arrival, and the man placed his hands on his younger brother’s broad shoulders. The table chorused a “Hello, Jonathan,” in greeting. Everyone but Nancy, you noticed. You made eyes at her, and she shot you a dirty look.

“Dig the mustache, dude,” Eddie grinned, and you held back a snicker as Jonathan’s eyebrows raised.

He brought a hand up to scratch at the atrocity, and you noticed his gaze flicker toward Nancy. She remained stoic and focused on her first course. “Yeah? Argyle wanted us all to have a stache. He thought it’d be cool for pictures or something.”

“Yeah, man. It’s sick. I’ve been thinking about growing one myself,” Eddie scratched at the smooth skin above his upper lip, silver rings glinting in the center piece’s candlelight. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were before, supple beneath a broad nose. He’d arrived clean shaven, boyish face carved away in harsh edges since you were kids. Now he was all strong jaw and defined cheekbones and full lips, a sparkle in his brown eyes.

You must have made a face because he flashed you his canines again. “What? You don’t think so?”

You shrugged. “I think it’d throw off your,” you gestured to his being with your champagne flute. “Vibe.”

“Yeah,” Robin nodded. “Too Mercury. You’re much more of a Brian May.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just compare me to the members of Queen,” Eddie grimaced and lifted his bottle to clink rims with your glass.

“Shit, that reminds me. I have to make a toast.” Jonathan groped for the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out folded pieces of paper.

“Where are the bride and groom?”

You all glanced around. The happy couple seemed to be anywhere but the close quarters of the reception hall.

“I believe they’re consummating their vows,” Jonathan flashed a shy smile.

Eddie clinked his glass to yours again, and you laughed before taking another sip. Will, Mike, and Eleven groaned.

“Cheers to the happy couple.” Robin raised her own glass, which again drew the attention from several tables.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Guess I better find them. I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” And you waved him off. He left with the soft graze of his hand to Nancy’s shoulder. When you met her gaze, you notice her face had flushed a deep pink, and she fought back a smile with an eye roll.

—

The band tapped out the rhythm to a soft jazz tune for all the happy old couples in the room, and Mike and Eleven. You watched her curly head pressed to his gangly chest and wondered if that ought to have been you. If things were different, if you hadn’t have panicked, if Steve had showed. You could still smell him, close, warm, a ghost that lingered.

With a sigh, you opened your eyes back to the harsh lighting and glanced sideways at Eddie’s jacket on the chair beside you. You were tempted to check the inner pocket, to look for some sort of monogram, proof that it was Steve’s. Eddie had slipped out the side door with the bride and groom and the Byers boys. He mentioned something about a wedding present, and flashed you the fattest joint you’d seen in years.

You resisted the pull of the jacket and sipped from your water glass, a vain attempt to curb the steadfast champagne hangover.

“Will that ever be me?” Nancy lamented from beneath her own champagne flute, sunk back into her chair with slumped shoulders and crossed arms, far past the rigidity of the afternoon. Glazed eyes stared longingly onto the dance floor. Robin warmed her bicep with a soft hand.

“Of course it will, Nance,” you sat forward in your chair to comfort her. “You’re brilliant and beautiful, and you’ll make someone the perfect wife someday.”

She offered the softest smile on the corners of her pink lips.

“After all, you’re emotionally available,” you compared with a pointed finger.

Robin groaned and took another sip of her drink, something chock full of cherries. “Both of you are catches, damnit, and I will not sit here and let you talk shit about my friends in this way.” She prodded each of you until smiles cracked on all three of your faces and you let out soft laughs.

The song ended in a burst of applause from dancers who shared sweet kisses and evacuated the dance floor. Mike and Eleven approached with blushed cheeks and smiles they couldn’t wipe off their faces, and the next song really picked up its tempo. Eleven found her seat again, but Mike stood beside his sister with an outstretched hand.

“Come on, Nance. I’m sick of watching you get bitchier and bitchier.” He offered with that signature Wheeler smirk.

“Fuck off,” Nancy shot, but she gripped his fingers and allowed him to pull her to the dance floor.

You watched them with a laugh until you felt a hand wrap around the backside of you chair. Robin had leaned closer. She watched you with sad eyes, big and blue, something mischievous in them. “What?” You narrowed your gaze.

“Steve’s an idiot.” She commented easily, as though his name didn’t feel like a direct hit every time.

You sighed. “Robin.”

“No, I’m serious. He’s cocky, and he’ll never learn. Of course you weren’t going to uproot your life for him.”

You sucked in your cheeks to avoid the panic slamming behind your ribcage. Steve had told her everything, and for some reason, you felt like a bad friend from keeping it from her. Maybe you worried she’d take his side.

“And he’s not here because he’s a chicken. So there’s no reason you shouldn’t be having any fun.” She pried the water glass from your hand and set it beside your empty flute. “Can’t feel hungover if you keep drinking.”

You laughed and watched Eleven’s fervent agreement, brown eyes glowing. “This is a party.”

“What’re you drinking?” Robin prodded you with a long finger again, swishing her glass your direction.

You crinkled your nose, watching the ice melt droplets to the side of her glass, which beaded and splattered, darkening the tabletop beneath each shake. You chewed through her words, realizing that she was right. Steve had chosen to bail. You were the better person here, showing up for your friend despite your worry, your anxieties. Sure, you had wanted to see him, hoped to patch things up, silently prayed for a heated makeup in a coat closet or your themed hotel room. But he wasn’t here, and you were.

You straightened your posture, gave Robin a firm nod. “Dirty Shirley, please.”

“Atta girl,” Robin grinned and pushed off from her seat to head to the bar. Eleven yelled for her to wait up and traipsed behind her, leaving you alone at the table with half-drank glasses and Eddie’s suit jacket.

You stared at the black lapel, wondering if it looked familiar. You glanced upward at Mike and Nancy, laughing with each swing of their arms over their heads. You swallowed and trailed your fingers along the hem, gripped at the shoulder pad. You stared back at the soft material, albeit a bit tattered. Maybe it wasn’t Steve’s. Maybe it was just secondhand. You made to flip the left side over, to look for an inscription, when a voice startled your hand away.

“Dance with me.”

You clutched at your chest, attempted to calm your breath, and spun to see Eddie with an outstretched hand and a wide grin. “When did you get back?”

“Two seconds ago,” he shrugged, waggled his fingers your direction. “Get up. I want to dance.”

There’s no reason you shouldn’t be having fun. A smile tugging at your cheeks, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to pull you to the dance floor. Only, when you reached the spot beside Nancy and Mike, the song ended and the tempo slowed again, something sweet and soft. Mike and Nancy High-fived.

“Aw man, I was hoping for the fast one.” Eddie groaned, but he pressed a soft hand to the small of your waist and tucked you in tight, cheek pressed to your temple as you began an awkward, off-kilter sway, a bit too dramatic, outrageous. It made you laugh, and you felt his chuckle bubble against your chest.

He was warm, but damp. His hair had been pulled back, low and loose at the base of his neck. Wet curls lined his cheeks and your own. He smelled of cigarettes and spearmint, and you pulled back to get a good look at his brown eyes, wide, but not blood shot.

“I thought you were going for a smoke,” you commented.

He flashed a canine, shrugged. “I did. Nasty habit.”

You cocked a brow. “I thought you were going to smoke.” You reiterated, glancing around the room to ensure the other guests hadn’t caught the inflection in your voice. You were pleasantly surprised to find Nancy tucked into Will’s chest. The poor boy’s eyes were bloodshot, and he had a slaphappy smile etched over his features. Nancy rolled her eyes at you, but she was smiling too.

“I let them have all the fun,” Eddie explained, his voice a low rumble against your chest.

You smiled, allowed yourself to drape a little closer, your own hand warm in his. “Why? This is a party, after all.”

His shoulder raised in a shrug under your palm. “Guess I’m growing up.”

You pulled back again to see the sly smile carving into his cheeks, and you both laughed again before he tucked you back under his chin.

—

You were swung around for six full songs, pink vodka and Sprite splashing the dance floor, and abdomen in stitches from raucous laughter, before you groaned about sore ankles and were all but carried back to your seat. You set your drink next to your discarded purse on the tabletop and slumped into your seat, cheeks flushed and aching. You hadn’t had that much fun in ages.

“So much for keeping your top-button done,” Robin commented as you approached.

You followed her point to Eddie’s bare chest. You hadn’t realized his bolo Demon had nearly slid off, buttons undone to expose a litany of scars around a smattering of dark curls. A few faded tattoos lended to the chaos, shiny.

“It’s freaking hot.” He excused himself, slumping into the seat beside you, that taunting jacket swaying under his weight.

“Eddie, I didn’t know you were such a voracious dancer,” Nancy waggled her eyebrows over her own drink.

Eddie flashed his signature grin and pointed a finger her direction. “You’re next, Wheeler. After I catch my breath.” His chest was heaving. The last number was upbeat, somewhat of a swing, and he definitely prided himself in attempting to throw you around. It was sloppy, to say the least, but fun.

“Watch your legs, Nance,” you rubbed at a Charlie horse smarting at your calf from your heels. “He’s a kicker.”

“I am not!” Eddie gawped, and you squealed when he reached to encircle your ankle and pull it into his lap. Surprisingly agile fingers pulled your strap from its buckle, and he slipped your shoe to the ground, relief flooding swollen toes. You rolled your ankle in his grasp, and strong hands melted the muscles of your calf, coaxing out the tight knot that resided there.

You were a little light-headed, and the buzz of alcohol made it difficult to contain a sound of delight. You clenched to stop yourself from moaning, and hissed when your calf tightened further.

“Relax, will you?” Eddie mumbled, all tease.

You laughed and settled your shoulders, slid further down the cool metal chair.

He released one leg and tapped the other, and you complied, trying to ignore the prickle of gooseflesh beneath his knuckles as they grazed your ankle.

You hadn’t been pampered like this in months, not since Steve offered you an early morning favor you couldn’t refused. You felt your cheeks warm, and you licked the cherry from your bottom lip, watching the glint off Eddie’s rings with each stroke, eyes unfocused. It was definitely the alcohol talking, but you’d always felt safe in Eddie’s hands, cared for, well-looked after.

He tilted his head to face you, curls falling around his face. He shook them out of big, brown eyes, cheeks creasing in a smile. “Better?”

You hummed a thanks and tucked your toes back around the leg of your chair, out of his grasp.

You watched, breathless, as his eyes raked your form, his own cheeks flushing, before he slapped his hands to his knees and huffed a breath. “Ready, Nance?”

Nancy groaned, but pushed herself to her feet, downing the rest of her cup before she allowed Eddie to drag her out onto the dance floor. You never noticed how tall he was, slender yet firm, dwarfing Nancy’s tiny frame as he took her petite hand into his, his other hand wide against her lower back.

“Feeling better?” Robin pulled your attention. She had mischief in her eyes, and she jiggled her glass in the air between you.

She was feeling toasty, you could tell by the rouge of her cheeks, the stained of her lips. Mike and Eleven spoke in giggles behind hands, playing Will at a game of Go-Fish with hole-punched cards he’d procured at some point. Jonathan sat beside them, stoned as all Hell, with a silly grin just beneath that God awful mustache. You felt warm, you felt at home. And for the first time in seven years, that feeling didn’t require Steve.

You released a shy smile, unable to hide it, and lifted your glass to clink with her own. “Much. Thank you.”

—

The bride and groom left in a flurry of sparklers, tucked into a bright yellow van, waving their goodbyes with blown kisses and dazed looks on their faces. The guests made their exits into breath-steaming cold, and you found yourself against the frigid hood of your car, sipping a stolen Dirty Shirley with Eddie’s jacket thrown over your shoulders. Grenadine dripped from a maraschino cherry, sticky-sweet, as Eddie lifted it from your glass and popped it between plump lips. It burst between his molars, and he procured the stem from between his front teeth.

“Can you tie it into a knot?”

His brows furrowed into the most dramatic scold you’d ever seen, and he tossed the stem to the ground between your feet. “I’m not giving away all of my secrets.”

You warmed at the insinuation and fingered around melting ice for the second cherry, avoiding his gaze. When you grasped the stem, he elbowed your side, almost causing you to fling it from the cup. He chuckled at the indignant noise that fell from between your lips.

“Sorry,” he grinned, and you noticed his eyes lingered on your lips when you put the cherry in your mouth.

You both looked away, facing out at the winter night. The stars were brighter here, sky bigger. Shirley had warmed your insides, and Eddie’s jacket had warmed you out. You placed cold fingertips to the embroidered letters on the inside pocket, pretended you couldn’t feel a cursive SFH.

“So,” Eddie mumbled, reaching into the jacket pocket at your hip. You jumped under his touch, and he procured a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, shaking it your direction. “Want a smoke?”

You declined the offer, tossing your cherry stem into your glass while the fruit popped syrupy sweet between your teeth, soaked with the sting of vodka.

“Alright, I’ll be right back though.” He nodded off toward the side building, courteous. Before he stepped away, though, he turned to face you, scratching at the back of his neck. You noticed a soft blush burning at his cheeks, the cold having already nipped his nose a soft pink. “Hey so, would you maybe want to come back to my room with me?”

You buzzed on his words, the softest he’d spoken, the smallest he seemed. You chewed on the cherry and swallowed with a smile, but before you could respond, he clarified.

“I mean, you know because I have that fridge full of mini-bottles of alcohol and peanuts, and the room’s on Harrington’s card, so we really can’t let that go to waste.”

You hoped your face didn’t falter from the sound of his name, his ever-presence. You swallowed again, took a the final few sips of your drink, watered down, and shrugged. “Sure, Eddie.”

“Great,” he breathed, all fog. “See you in a minute?”

You nodded. “I’ll be here.” And he disappeared around the corner, pulling a cigarette between his lips. Maybe you should have joined him, you could have used the nicotine to calm your sudden nerves. You dumped your ice beside you, water splashing your nylons and crossed your arms over your chest, one again feeling for the soft embroidered letters. You closed your eyes and tipped your head back.

Had he been there, you might be doing the same right now, hunkered under his jacket, waiting for a quick smoke before he took you back to his room. Steve had always been warm hands and lingered kisses, flirtation, toeing the line. With Steve it was always about not getting caught, but not caring if you did. It was young and reckless, and now you were older and more responsible, and terrified of settling down.

“Hey, babe. Will and I are tucking in for the night,” Robin approached with Will linked to her arm. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped, pupils still slightly blown.

You raised your brows at Robin. “And Nancy?”

Robin cracked a sly smile. Will groaned in disgust.

“Good for her,” you snorted.

Robin nodded, pushing Will in the direction of her car with the promise of pizza. She turned to you with an arm outstretched, ready to accept your tight hug. “Will I see you soon?”

“I hope,” you shrugged. “Come see me for your birthday?”

“Hawkins,” she sighed into your ear, squeezing you tight. All warm and patchouli and Robin. “But I’ll be in DC around Easter. Can we meet then?”

You were that age, where you scheduled time with your friends, where you didn’t have fun anymore, where life had begun to slow down. You swallowed and pulled away, holding her padded shoulders at arm’s length. “Robin?” Your pulse began to quicken.

“Yeah, babe?”

You glanced over her shoulder at a skyward billow of smoke. “I’m going back to Eddie’s room with him.”

Her eyes widened, and you worried it might be judgement, disappointment, until her lips cracked into a grin. “Holy shit.” She laughed.

You nodded. “Holy shit.”

“Tell me every gory detail, please? Call me the moment you get home.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea of details, of Eddie’s rumbled voice, of cigarettes and spearmint and cherry. Your ankles wobbled and Robin caught you with a laugh.

“You good to drive?”

Eddie was. You didn’t think you saw him drink anything after the beer. He toasted with water.

You tightened the jacket around yourself, thumbing at the letters on the inside pocket. “Robin, do you think…” You weren’t even sure what you were asking. “I mean, they’re roommates.” You huffed, gesturing off in Eddie’s direction.

Robin rolled her eyes, gave your wrists a tight squeeze. “The three of you are consenting adults,” her voice rasped with exhaustion, the end of a great night. “You asked Steve to come, and he didn’t. That’s on him.”

You felt your cheeks warm. Steve really did tell her everything.

“Tell me something.”

You hummed, glancing over her shoulder at Eddie’s approaching frame.

“Do you want to marry Steve?”

That familiar panic clawed at your chest, and you staggered further into her, the mountain air creating static cling between your nylons and the chiffon of your skirt. It had been a question you’d been asking yourself over and over again for months now, a question that provided you with nothing but hurt, confusion, a question for people your age.

You grit your teeth, stood up straight, shook your head. “No. At least, not right now.”

She smiled at that, another sweet, unexpected smile, one bathed in mischief. “Good. It’s important to have fun while you’re still young.”

—

Eddie lead you into his room in a flurry of apologies, lifting an explosion of clothes off various pieces of furniture to shove into his suitcase. The room was large, too opulent for Eddie’s taste, with pastel wallpaper and a balcony overlooking snow-topped mountains. Or, you’d assumed it would in daylight. Currently, honeyed street lamps glowed at gauzy curtains, the city was pitch black beyond and below.

The thing that struck you the most was the double beds, one pristine and pressed, the other haphazardly shoved together, a crease where Eddie’s body had lain the night before. Steve had booked the room for two. You wondered how long ago, and at what point he changed his mind.

“Ta-da,” Eddie gestured to the open space before giving the grand tour. “Bathroom,” all peach marble and gold fixtures. “Television, with pay-per-view.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And… snacks.” He swung open the door to the mini fridge and reached in to pull out a few mini bottles of vodka. They clinked against his silver rings.

Anxiety bubbled in you, that familiar precipice of a storm. It tingled in your fingertips, thundered your heartbeat in your ears. It was electric like static shock clinging to your nylons. You took a few uneasy steps forward, coughed a laugh.

Eddie tossed the liquor bottles to the unmade bed and tugged at the Demon medallion around his neck. It was barely on by now, scooped neck of a white tank top visible low on his chest. Eddie was rough around the edges, sticky, stretched like taffy over wiry limbs. He moved with umph, a cartoon character. He pulled his bolo tie over his head and deposited it to the bedside table nearest a phone, a lamp, a pad of paper with the hotel’s logo.

“Good for Nancy and Jonathan, huh?” He commented, stirring your attention back to the present, back to the fun evening you had, removing the pressure of it all.

You laughed, tossed your clutch to a side table, leaned against a wall to unbuckle shoes and release your aching toes. “I know, right? She needed it.”

“Did you know they hooked up over Thanksgiving?” Eddie offered like a secret, rolling his sleeves and unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. The tank top beneath clung to bits of him that sweat through, see-through, exposing bits of purpled flesh, like Steve’s.

You sucked in your cheeks and wiggled your toes against the carpet, strode to the mini fridge to find a bag of M&Ms. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll here about tonight for the next three months.” You shook the bag his direction, and when he held his hands out to catch it, you tossed and grabbed yourself another bag.

“What? You don’t think they’ll be together forever after this?” Eddie snickered, tearing open his bag from the center. The plastic split and a few candy-coated chocolates pelted the carpet, but he kicked them under the unmade bed and threw himself onto it with all of the flair for dramatics he was famous for. The comforter sighed under him.

You snorted, shrugged, tore open the corner of your own bag, and crawled to rest against the headboard beside him. You popped a green one into your mouth, and a brown. They tasted a bit stale, and odd refrigerated, but the crunch between your teeth was satisfying enough.

“Hey, so,” Eddie pulled himself upward and shifted onto his side to face you, all long limbs and chocolate breath, and you turned to catch watchful brown eyes. “I know I’m a thousand percent going to regret asking this,” he licked the corner of his plump, pink lips. “But what exactly happened in Louisville?”

You nearly choked. Eddie laughed as you sputtered, and he darted from his spot with an apology on his lips to pull a sealed plastic water bottle from the fridge. You laughed with him, tears forming at your eyes while you twisted the cap off and sat up for a drink and a gasp of fresh air.

“That bad, huh?” He settled beside you again, his surprisingly weight teetering you on your side.

“Steve didn’t tell you?” You sipped, licked chocolate from your teeth.

Eddie’s eyes were soft, innocent, head tilted to yours as he shook the curls from his eyelashes. “He didn’t say much, just came back grumpier than usual. Robin yelled at him the other day because every time we mention you, he gets all… weird. Quiet. Obnoxious.” His lips split in a grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was concerned, concerned for his friend, for you too.

You took a deep breath, acknowledged the idea of a sullen Steve, moping around at your expense. You thought back to that blessed weekend, boring conference room meetings anxiously awaiting 5 o’clock when you could stumble back into a hotel room, not unlike this one, unzipping your dress and soaking in Steve Harrington’s all-encompassing affection. All weekend, he had been soft words and sweet sounds and roaming hands, until the end.

And then you fought. God, you’d never fought anyone like that.

“Steve asked me to marry him.”

It was Eddie’s turn to choke. “I’m sorry?”

You shrugged, tugged at a run in the chiffon of your pleated skirt. “Well, he more told me to marry him than asked. There wasn’t a ring or anything.” You groaned and slammed your head back into the padded headboard. “He wanted to try long distance, and when I said no, he told me to marry him, told me to move to Hawkins, promised to take care of me. And Jesus, Eddie, no offense to Hawkins or its residence, but you know I can’t do that. I mean, after the Earthquake? After all that happened?” You were rambling, but you hadn’t talked about it. Not since you spewed to Nancy, and that was months ago.

“No, I get it,” Eddie sighed, tugging his hair tie from his end to run his fingers through scraggly hair. “I’m only there for Wayne, and half the time, I think he’s staying for me. Hawkins is like a black hole.”

“Exactly!” You poured a few more M&Ms into your hand and ate them one-by-one. “And like, I obviously like Steve. I mean, he was my first kiss, my prom date. We have history, you know? I think that’s why I know him so well.”

Eddie hummed in response, settled back down beside you, shoulder to shoulder. He tossed a candy, missed his mouth. It settled somewhere between you.

“Steve needs the nuclear family. He needs a stay-at-home wife and six kids, a golden retriever out back.” You mused. You almost hated that you saw yourself in the role, could see yourself melding perfectly into it, had been imagining it for months and months.

Eddie just let you speak, continued to shuffle chocolate into his hand and down it.

You elbowed him. “What, no input here?”

He crunched a few bites, mouth full, and shrugged. He pulled your water bottle from your hand to chase the chocolate coating his mouth, and took a minute to compose his thoughts before he said. “Can I be totally honest with you?”

“Please,” you nodded, tilting yourself to face him.

He glanced your direction for a split second, but looked outward, gesturing to the room, to his invisible audience. “I mean, I obviously want you both to be happy. He’s one of my best friends. We share a toilet, for Christ’s sake.”

You chuckled at the visual.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, and he glanced back at you again. You watched his Adam’s apple bob. “But uh… I’m feeling really selfish tonight.”

You felt it again at his words, that buzz of electricity to your fingertips. “Yeah?” Was all you could manage.

“Yeah,” he nodded, looked away, gestured out to the neatly pressed bed to your right. “I mean, he’s not here. He could have fought for you, and he chose to be a coward and stay home, and I feel like kind of a dick because I’m just so grateful I finally have you to myself.”

You watched the steady rise and fall of his chest before he turned to face you again, his eyes big and brown and watching you watch him.

“Because honestly? It’s been killing me to fight for your attention when Harrington’s around. I mean, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you offered to tutor me sophomore year.”

You licked the crease between your lips, saw it catch his gaze, watched him do the same. A shiver slipped down your spine. “You could try now. If you want.”

A soft sound spilled from his mouth, and his brows furrowed neatly. “Are you sure?”

You smiled, leaned back against the headboard, and whispered, “Kiss me, Eddie.”

His lips were soft, pillowy, all-encompassing. He overtook your space, crowded you with a cascade of curls and a firm hand to the headboard above your head, his other grazing your ribcage, and you leaned into the taste of chocolate and spearmint. He was gentle, timid, a stark polar opposite from the dramatic flair of the man you’d grown accustomed to, a facade, perhaps.

His nose nuzzled your own, and your cheek, and you breathed a warm smile to his temple when his lips found the hollow at your ear. “Can I?” He whispered, and you muttered an allowance before feeling warm, soft kisses down the plane of your throat to the dips of your clavicle.

You pushed at his shoulders, unraveling the collar of his shirt until he was pulling away to yank folded sleeves down his forearms. His lean frame was sinew and faded ink and a smattering of scars that matched a few of your own.

He pulled his tank over his head next, not one to waste time, and you trailed your fingers along tight flesh from ribcage to hipbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps along pale skin. With a groan, he dipped back to capture your lips in a kiss again. You heard the scatter of M&Ms across the side table, felt the shift of the bed as he gripped your hips and pulled you downward until your head rested on a cotton pillowcase.

“I meant it when I told you you were beautiful,” he muttered to your lips, hands ghosting your thighs as he made for the waist band of your nylons beneath your dress.

You felt self-conscious about the creases left to your skin there, but nimble fingers rolled the thin material down past your knees, and you watched it waft to the floor. Firm hands quickly replaced it, kneading at aching leg muscles, pinching the meat of your thighs between ringed fingers. You moaned into an open mouth.

“You deserve to be worshipped.” He sighed into your shoulder.

He was right. You deserved to have fun, to enjoy your friend’s wedding, to party, to live a little. You deserved to not worry about the ever-present stress of adulthood. You deserved to sink into a cushy mattress and clutch curls as a man buried his face into you, as a man praised you, as a man pleased you.

You held chiffon pleats to your thighs, wished you’d shaved, felt pillowy lips to the crux of your hips, tried not to compare calloused hands to smooth ones. You saw stars, eyes and jaw slammed shut, and tried not to compare a round-tipped nose to a flat one. You allowed Eddie to kiss you, lips tacky, breath hot, and tried not to compare sweet sounds to filthy ones.

Eddie was all lips, where Steve was all hands. Eddie was strong shoulders, nimble fingers, and Steve was rhythm and hips and thighs. Eddie was whispered truths and damp and sticky sweet, and Steve was furrowed brow and grit teeth, determined. Eddie let you pin him, hair splayed across a creased pillowcase, your small hands pressed to the faded ink on his chest, tracing lines with manicured fingertips. Steve would have pinned you wrists over your head.

“Can I hold you?” Eddie asked, when you were all spent and sweating and breathless, curls stuck to his temples, eyelids heavy.

You sunk into spindly arms, your legs tangled but spread wide across an uneven bedspread. You dress has been discarded beneath the side table. The soft lamplight accentuated the shadows, a honeyed glow pooling in from the patio beyond.

Something heavy rattled in you, guilt perhaps, and you released a shaky breath.

“Need a smoke?” Eddie breathed into your neck, that warm chuckle, friendly, like he understood, that safe space to bring you back to Earth.

You tucked his hand tighter into your ribcage beneath your breasts, a buoy tying you to the reality of the day, of your life, to the consequences of your actions.

You fell asleep to the low, rumbling hum of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling In Love.

---

A/N: This has been floating around my head for ages, and for some reason, it chose this week to finally come out, and it's so vastly different from what I had planned. Listen, I'm a Steve girl, trust me. I know it may not seem like it, but I'm really, really a Steve girl. But Eddie's just so... I just love him sometimes, okay?

Also I just really felt like this was so about the friendship between them all. If you can't tell, I think I'm in love with Robin and Nancy. Let me know what you think. Love you forever and ever. xo Amanda

#stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jancy #jonathan byers #robin buckley #argyle and eden

279 notes · View notes