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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SEVENTEEN

in which you watch a movie about dragons with eddie, but there's something deeper beneath the surface to battle. to train. to tame.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 3.7k+

→ a/n: omg they still haven't slept they're just like me fr <3 thank you for all the kindness and endless patience you have all had with this story, and for sticking around for the ride. deftones scene that has haunted me for months now will be next hour! and the return of the gc! see y'all next week (maybe)

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

17:00 ─────────ㅇ───── 24:00

HOUR SEVENTEEN - 8:00 AM

“Are you crying right now?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh my God, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Eddie, those are goddamn tears on your cheeks-”

“Oh, fuck off!”

The credits for How To Train Your Dragon roll as background noise to your bickering.

“It’s okay to admit that you were, y’know,” you coo as you lean across the spanse of both your laps, moving to pinch at his cheek as he leans back and moves it further out of your reach, “It’s a very moving ending.”

You’d situated yourself at one end of the couch when you two returned inside, while Eddie had seated himself on the opposite end. Initially, you’d been disappointed, worried about that sudden distance. But the distance disappeared rather quickly as Eddie had fully turned his body, back against the armrest and legs spread out of that empty space, and encouraged you to do the same. A messy entanglement of knees and ankles and calves all pressed together, touching at every interval possible. Anywhere your leg could manage to graze his, it was. A plethora of gentle and minuscule touches, all adding up to something bigger – something that still grows in your chest amongst the vines and beneath his waves.

It was the very thing that made this easy. It wasn’t awkward, neither of you seemed uncomfortable given that the last time you’d used this couch, it had been in very delicate and very different circumstances.

It was all part of being his friend. You were Eddie’s friend.

“Don’t be so condescending,” Eddie’s scowl is adorable, tugging on every infantile bloom gathered on the greenery in your chest.

Boundaries. Your lungs and your vines and your bones had found respectable boundaries amongst themselves, and it was finally easier to breathe around Eddie again.

“I’m not!” you shift your legs, sliding your bare skin against that of his flannel pajamas. He’s quick to wrap a hand around your ankle, thumb pressing into the hard bone as if he’s scared you’re about to run from him again. You’re not; you’re not sure how to convince him, but you can’t imagine there’s anything he could tell you now to send you running once more, “I liked the movie, Eddie. It was… it was really good.”

You’re a terrible liar. You can’t remember half the movie. All you can remember is the way Eddie would animatedly add commentary for you, how there had been a point in the movie the two of you paused for nearly fifteen minutes for him to go on a ramble of his explanation as to why he’d named his bike Nightfury (as if it hadn’t been obvious from the way his face lit up the moment Toothless appeared on screen). All you can remember is how you only wished the movie would never end, so the look on his face would never fade.

“Tell me your favorite scene,” he demands with a knowing smirk. He knows you didn’t pay attention.

“You know…” you pause, racking your brain for a single scene to mention, “The… one…”

“Go on,” he scoots his heels back towards him, elevating his knees so he can prop his elbows up on them and cradle his face mockingly, acting completely enthralled by whatever your answer may be, “The one…?”

You panic, blurting out, “The one with the dragon.”

You miss the pressure of his thumb on your bones. A physical reminder of his grip on you, not just all mumbled metaphorical ones that now reside in you.

“Half the movie was scenes with a dragon.”

“The one where he’s training the dragon.”

That earns a cackle from him. One that pulls from his chest, sends him leaning back from his sarcastic pose and makes him squint his eyes until crinkles appear beside them. You almost consider counting each laugh line, but just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared.

“Awesome,” he breathes out, stretching his legs out, bumping them back against yours once more, “So specific. You should really be a professional movie critic, you know that?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nod giddily, “Feast your eyes, pretty boy. The next Robert Ebert in the making.”

He’s red. Terribly, terribly red. It’s not a surprise he fights fire with fire as he replies, “Sweetheart, respectfully… who the fuck is Robert Ebert?”

It’s your turn for your cheeks to burn. You’re unsure if he catches it, the flash of sudden shyness at that nickname now. It once sent rage burning down your throat, but you now revel in it. You’d burn for it.

“You’re killing me here, handsome,” that does the trick – a small squeak sounds off from deep within his throat, and he tries to cover it with a cough, “He was a famous movie critic. My newest role model.”

You expect him to go on with the bit, to force your hand and make you expand on it. Your mind is already reeling with ways to insert more innuendos, more nicknames, more ways to drive him as insane as you already had become thanks to him. It was only fair that you return the favor.

He doesn’t.

He’s like a schoolboy, fidgeting beneath your attention. You swear you feel a tremor in his legs that are tangled with yours properly again, and when he grabs your ankle, when he gives it another squeeze and he lays his thumb into that bone again as if he might find a divot specifically worn out just for him, you realize he’s not going to go along with the bit. Your innocent nickname has left him defenseless. Flustered, vibrant pink and crimson red from the bridge of his nose to the tops of his ears.

Oh, this is fun.

You move the foot he’s not holding onto for dear life, shifting it too quick for him to stop you before you sharply prod his exposed stomach with your toes, “Earth to Eddie?”

He jumps at the contact. It happens so fast, you almost can’t keep track of him with your eyes as he’s sporadically jumping up off of the couch, away from your foot and legs and you.

Oh, that’s not fun.

“We should watch another movie,” No, we really shouldn’t. “How’s Scream sound?”

He doesn’t even let you answer him, already rushing towards the entertainment center and dropping into a crouch before the shelves holding some of his movies. His hand moves to his knee, the hand that had once held to your bone, the one that burned a lingering touch into it, and you watch as his fingers start to tap along to a silent beat.

A clear sign of anxiety. Even if you hadn’t come to observe Eddie and learn his ins and outs over the last seventeen hours, you’d know he’s on edge.

“What are you doing?” you baldly ask him, in no mood to beat around the bush.

He’s on edge. All you did was call him handsome, and he’s on fucking edge.

“What do you mean?” he asks over his shoulder, not even so much as looking at you as his fingers trail along the spines of titles, occupying himself with finding a movie you still hadn’t agreed to.

You sit up on your knees, kneeling on the cushions. It almost reminds you of when your knees had last pressed into this couch, “I mean, why the fuck did you get up like that?”

“Like what?”

It’s funny, how easily your previously warm contentment can start to fan into flames of agitation.

“Oh, Jesus-” you cut yourself off, standing just abruptly as he had. You walk with purpose towards him, and he finally turns his face to look at you, “What did I do? Did I cross a line?”

His brows furrow, “What?”

You wave your hand towards the couch, finally stopping off beside him, cocking a hip to accommodate your other hand that rests on it, “The way you just- we were just sitting there and talking and you just-”

You just completely pulled away from me. Physically, yes, but I’m terrified it also be emotionally. You pulled away, and it feels an awful like you’re running away.

All the words you can’t say – all the words you don’t know how to say.

“You jumped up like I said something wrong,” you quietly finish the thought only half truthfully. It’s better than nothing. It still offers a sliver of honesty.

“You didn’t say anything wrong,” he remains crouched, looking up at you with big and wide eyes, face smoothing into shock, “I just… I want to watch another movie.”

“I thought we were past that.”

“Past what?”

“Lying.”

His blush lingers and so does the tapping of his fingers, “Why do you think I’m lying? I’m being serious – you didn’t do anything wrong! I just… You said you haven’t seen Scream, and mentioned something about killing, so I thought-”

“And if I don’t want to watch another movie?” you drop to your knees beside him, and he physically retracts, “See! Jesus Christ, Eddie, be honest with me right now or so help me God-”

“I have been plenty honest tonight, thank you very much,” he scowls immediately. You scoot closer to him on your knees, and this time, he isn’t flinching away, “You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? I… It’s me. My problem, I’ll deal with it. Please just… let me deal with it, okay?”

“Deal with what-”

It’s your fault, really. You scoot even closer on your knees, you’re ignoring the carpet burn sure to remain, when your balance fails you. One moment, you feel as though you have the upper ground with him and this entire argument, and the next you’re falling forward.

You’re falling forward, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to earnestly attempt to stop your collision with his floor. Attempt being the key word.

It happens slow enough that both of you should have been able to stop it, in retrospect. Because Eddie is successful in catching your elbow, pausing the fall momentarily before he loses his own balance. He falls onto his ass and out of his crouch with a soft oomph, eyes widening comically before he’s collapsing backwards and dragging you with him. Your body drapes over him, cheek pressing into his bare chest, and neither of you move for a second.

A familiar position. From the first few hours, when Eddie had tried to wrestle his damn porn magazine from you. That warm weight that once rested between your hips now digging into him, ribcages once more pressing together with erratic heartbeats pounding against each other through walls of flesh.

You don’t move at first, keeping your face smashed into his chest. The perfect role reversal. At least his face isn’t in your boobs this time.

“I…” Oh, it’s painful to hold in your laughter, words choking up as your mouth quivers in the force of fighting a shit-eating grin, “I-I’m sorry.”

He’s quick to recognize your amusement, “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I’m not going to!”

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Bullshit,” he shifts beneath you, sitting up and bringing you back up with him. His arms are loose around your waist as you slide off of him and sit onto the floor beside him, “Who’s the liar now?”

Another twitch of your lips, another glare shot your way, “I’m…” He raises his eyebrow in a dare, “Okay, yeah, I was going to laugh.”

“Fuckin’ knew it.”

He’s still wrapped around you, even as you sit side by side. Awkward angles and all, he’s clinging to you just as he did on the couch. As if he always needs to be touching you now, as if that line being crossed has made him open his eyes to a million realizations and opportunities.

When he’s not running away, of course.

You want to bring it up, reiterate that you’d like to know what exactly Eddie was ‘dealing with’ as he so eloquently put it. But you can’t, especially not when his thumb finds your soft skin beneath his shirt and strokes it thoughtlessly. An instinct. You wonder if he’s even conscious of it, if he even knows the effect it’s having on you.

Can he hear your heart when he’s this close? Can he hear it’s thunder that shakes your very foundations?

“I was serious,” you finally speak up, realizing you two have spent far too long sitting on his living room floor and just looking into each other’s eyes. If past you knew you ended up in this position, she would have been disgusted, not fawning. “I don’t feel like another movie.”

“Even Scream?”

“Even Scream.”

It’s a hard sentiment to force out, because the idea of getting to sit through another few hours of watching Eddie glow with excitement, to watch his expressions as he tumbles over words of adornment for something he loves and is passionate about, is tempting. But you’re pretty sure if you end up on that couch again, his thumb stroking your ankle as he attempts to keep your attention tethered to a motion picture you could never follow along with sincerely, you’ll just fall asleep.

Sleep deprivation is a bitch.

“What do you want to do instead?” he asks you. He makes no move to stand; you don’t either.

Your eye trails over the entertainment center to avoid his stare, when something catches your eye on the shelf above the movies, “You never did tell me who Deftones are.”

Eddie glances at the shelf of CDs that caught your eye, “You… want to listen to Deftones right now, rather than watch Scream?”

“Yes. I want you to rock my world with Deftones right now rather than watch Scream.”

“What about sleep?”

“What about it?”

“Do you not want to rest? They never said we couldn’t. Actually, right now, they’re assuming we are.”

Amongst the quick back and forth, you have to bite your tongue. You want to scream, no. No, I don’t want to sleep, because if I sleep, I’m missing this. I may never get this again; I can’t risk this.

You shrug, and stand as his arms fall from around you. You miss that weight – you always miss the fucking weight of him. Just like a child with their favorite stuffed animal or blanket, you’re growing too attached too quickly. It’s going to be your downfall. It’s going to be your goddamn reckoning once these hours have slipped away.

Even more reason to not sleep. Even more reason to cling to your time with him.

“No rest for the wicked, am I right?” you force a careless grin and hold out a hand. You silently plead for him to take it, to give you this win just once.

He stares at your hand, then at you, then back to your hand. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh out unintentionally when he hesitantly starts to reach out for your hand, grasping his palm to yours. A sudden burst of confidence overrides your system as you say, “But for these final seven hours, I’m your idiot.”

His grip turns steady and firm. A wicked grin crosses his face to match your own.

“That you are, sweetheart. That you are.”

—

As it turns out, Eddie’s radio is broken. He tries to explain what happened, animatedly waving around his hands as he pulls all of the Deftones albums he owns and tries to give you the backstory to the night he broke the poor thing, but you just grab your phone and wave it in front of him instead.

“I’m about to change your life and single handedly convince you to get a smartphone, Munson,” you tease as he takes a seat on the couch beside you.

You’re sat criss-cross, bare knee bumping his thigh as you open your Spotify app.

“I do know what Spotify is,” he grumbles, “I’m not completely lost on the times.”

“You still use physical copies of porn. Excuse me for assuming you don’t know what Spotify is.”

That shuts him up with ease.

He’s completely silent, almost unnoticeable if it weren’t for the warmth radiating off of him and the bounce of his knee beside you. His eyes are watchful, though, as you search up this mysterious band and click on their music profile.

Just as you open your mouth to ask which song you should play, thumb already hovering over their top song of Change (In The House of Flies), he sticks out his open palm.

“What?” you question, looking up from where you’d been focused on the tiny screen.

He wiggles his fingers.

You know that he’s asking for you to hand over the phone, but you still recall the thrill from teasing him earlier. The rush you got from flustering him, from getting under his skin.

Maybe you don’t have to shower him with abundant flirtatious nicknames to do that. Maybe, you can pull back an inch or so, lay off the compliments, figure out a new way to get under his skin in a way that makes you both smile until your cheeks burn, laugh until your stomachs ache.

Instead of giving him the phone, you send your hand out to his and smack it. A punitive attempt at a high five with the angle given.

“Wha-” he starts, staring at his palm you’d just smacked in gentle astonishment, “I wasn’t asking for a high five.”

“No?” you bite down on your inner cheek, reeling back in your smile as he wiggles his fingers again, inching his hand closer to the phone.

This time, instead of slapping at his hand, you smack your hand down into his and lace your fingers together.

A giggle escapes you as he tries to shake your hand from his, and even as he tries to grimace, you catch the smile he’s fighting.

“Sweetheart,” he chastises, “Give me the phone so I can show you the damn band.”

“Ask nicely.”

He gets his hand free from yours and tilts his head in your direction, raising an eyebrow. You only raise your own brow in return.

“Stop being a brat and give me the phone, please,” he repeats himself in a nearly condescending tone.

You’re managing it. Aching cheeks, soon-to-be aching stomachs, as you crawl beneath his skin. “Make me.”

Two simple words are all it takes to finally burrow into him. Literally. You nearly drop your phone when he’s quickly shifting positions, hand no longer be held out for the device as he suddenly dives it into your sides. Your body instinctively curls up protectively, and his forearm is caught against your torso as he begins to do exactly what you had enticed from him. He’s making you.

The asshole is tickling you.

“Eddie!” you screech, no care for how thin the walls of his apartment might be, “Ed-Eddie, stop!”

He’s cackling now between your gasping laughs. Your phone does take a tumble, dropping to both your feet as his second hand joins the torture. You can’t follow the path of his fingertips up and down your sides, only continuing to yelp out as your eyes tear up and you try to fight back. He props himself with a knee on the couch, other leg stretched to the floor as he cowers you into the cushion and your sides begin to ache.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

If you really wanted him to stop, you probably could manage to kick him off of you. One slip of a knee or thigh with intention towards his groin, and you’re sure it would send him flying. But you don’t. You let his body cover yours as your forehead bumps against his shoulder, you let him curl back into you and entrap you so willingly. You let that overwhelming scent of boy take you over.

You let his waves drag you under. You don’t even have to take a breath before it happens; his essence is enough to keep your lungs from collapsing.

“Stop?” he laughs, fingers momentarily slowing but not quite stopping, “Have I made you yet, baby?”

Your laughs die silently. All the air finally leaves your lungs, and you officially can only breathe in him.

Baby.

He senses the change in you immediately. The tickling stops, and he’s leaning back, shoulder leaving your forehead feverish. That’s what it was, it couldn’t possibly be the warmth that glows in your chest from that nickname.

Baby.

You get it. Oh, God, you get it. His quick escape when you’d called him handsome. You’d forgotten that this game of getting beneath his skin and bantering with light teasing goes both ways. You’d forgotten he has as much power over you now as you did him.

Wide, brown eyes meet yours. He’s close enough to kiss. One impulsively lurch forward, and your lips would be back on his. His tongue in your mouth, his hands on your hips, his own hips settled between your thighs – all of this is so, so palpable. And all it would take is one movement.

You hesitate. And he moves, lurching the wrong way. You almost call out, wait. Come back.

Baby.

An echo you can’t grasp onto quickly enough, and it leaves right along with the weight of him.

He leans down and grabs your phone that had fallen, and sits back down beside you as he clears his throat, “Anyways. Um, where were we?”

You kissing me. Me kissing you. Us, kissing, here on this couch.

“Deftones?” you manage to whisper out questioningly instead. You swallow down that desire, a fiery weapon you should probably tamper down anyways.

“Right. Deftones.”

He opens your phone, putting in the code you quietly hand over to him without any hesitation. It was all wasted on that brief look, that moment where you nearly had him back in your grasps and he only slipped away again.

You don’t even care as he deliberates which song to show you first. You think there’s a notification from Steve, a text message in the groupchat, but it’s lost on you.

Baby.

You like the way it sounds, you like the way it fits. You wonder how steep of a price you’d have to pay to hear him say it again.

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #had to cut it off there because deftones makeout session needs it's own moment to shine truly #not edited sorry i ain't got that kind of brain power left in me right now

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seventh-district · 9 months

Text

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #my writing #man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen #i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days #between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me #the power of hyperfixation (and love)#y'know. i've noticed a trend #why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying #and having Reader hold/comfort them #i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh #idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms)#or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both)#anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it!#i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain #also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star #my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma #*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter)#(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush #smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft

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neonghostlights · 8 months

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hey angel ! do you think you could write an eddiexreader about maybe powered!reader (like el) and eddie hanging out & maybe she has a nightmare and is crying & the lights r flickering so he thinks she’s getting vecnad 😭💗😭

I LOVE this request. I’ve been wanting to write something with a powered!reader for a while. I wish I had the capacity to turn this into a series. Thank you for the request!!

Warnings: mean!Eddie (he does have a reason), nightmares, blood, death, Vecna, hurt/no comfort (I literally have their whole love story planned out in my head though) 18+ only, minors DNI

Wordcount: 1.9k

Turn On The Lights

Sleeping had been hard lately.

You think that maybe it was the change of location after being locked in a small joke of a bedroom in the lab. Or maybe it was the fact that you weren’t having sleeping pills shoved down your throat every night after years of taking them.

Life has changed a lot since you escaped Nina with El.

You were surprised to see her there after all, assuming that 001 had killed her like he did everyone else in the Hawkins lab when he had his massive temper tantrum.

In the midst of the chaos, you and Kali had the chance to get out and run to New York. If you had known there was anyone left to save then you would have taken El with you. Maybe then she shouldn’t have the weight of the world resting on her young shoulders.

You were with Kali and your little group of misfit friends for a while before you and Kali decided to go your separate ways over some creative differences.

You ran into some trouble and got caught again, landing yourself right back into the arms of the people you were trying your hardest to stay away from.

But that was the past, and now you were currently sitting cross legged on Eddie Munsons bed.

He was on the other side of the room at his desk in his brand new government supplied trailer, flipping through a magazine that you knew for a fact he wasn’t reading.

He wasn’t even pretending to skim the page.

Eddie was always weird around you. From the second you stepped out of the back of Argyle’s smelly van and into his hospital room he shied away from you.

You didn’t really understand why.

It reminded you of your time in the lab. Since you were 003, you were older than most of the group. There had been large gaps before Papa had gotten his science right and started producing more little weapons wrapped in baby blankets.

There was never really anyone to play with.

But now you are an adult that was no longer in the hands of seedy scientists and were facing the same treatment you had growing up from a grown man that was nice to everyone else but you.

The rest of the group were nice enough to you. Robin even complimented your shaved head once. Nancy let you have some of her old clothes. And El was becoming a true sister to you.

Eddie sighed, and you looked over at him, something that you usually avoided doing because he would shoot you dirty looks.

Like he was doing now that he noticed you staring at him.

“Can I help you?” He asked, in a tone that made you think that he actually didn’t want to help you.

“Do you need something for the pain?” You asked, sweet as sugar.

“No,” he snapped before looking back down at what he was pretending to read.

You didn’t miss the way he eyed the glass of water he had left on his bedside table longingly.

You lifted your hand, hoping to get into his good graces by getting him what he needed before he could even ask. You felt the pressure and power flowing through you as you lifted the glass of water off of his nightstand with your mind, letting it float towards him across the room.

As it got closer to Eddie, you noticed the thunderous expression on his face instead of the wide eyed wonder or gratefulness you would have expected.

“Don’t!” He yelled, snatching the water from the air so hard that it sloshed onto the carpet.

“Don’t what?” You stuttered out, confused as to what you did wrong.

“Don’t do that shit in my house,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

He started to get up, like he wanted to storm out. But his body protested against his movements.

“Okay, okay,” you said, trying to calm him down. You didn’t dare get closer to him. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

You watched as the redness slowly started to creep from his face and he leaned back into his chair. There was a slight tremble in his body as he gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

Yeah, he really didn’t like you. Your presence was enough to make him this angry.

You were so embarrassed that you could cry. You felt your face start to heat and you turned your head, hiding your face into the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

It was your turn to sigh as you laid back and rested your head on the bed. Hope he wouldn’t mind you using his pillow. Maybe he would yell at you for breathing too loud too.

You weren’t even supposed to be here right now. Everyone was busy and Wayne had a last minute shift at the plant meaning you were the only adult here to babysit Eddie.

You laughed a little to yourself silently, knowing how mad he would be if you suggested you were babysitting him.

Eddie didn’t need a whole lot of help anymore. It was mostly just making sure he didn’t fall, pull a stitch, and stayed on top of his medication.

Honestly, you were surprised he didn’t try to chase you out of the room with one of his crutches as soon as you sat down on his bed.

You stared up at his ceiling, your eyelids growing a little bit heavier.

One second you were lying on Eddie Munsons messy bed and the next you were on the thin cot of your cell in the lab. The white textured paint of his bedroom ceiling turned into a hard metal.

You sat up quickly and the room spun.

You had dreamed that you escaped again and this time you had conjured up a long haired man.

You weren’t expecting to feel sad that Eddie Munson didn’t exist but there was an ache in your gut that felt like longing. It was the feeling you had when you thought about finding a home you would never have or living the normal life of someone that was in their twenties.

Your brain was a traitor. It allowed you to have a little taste of freedom just to snatch it away from you. Even if your freedom in Hawkins wasn’t as glamorous as you had imagined, it was still something.

You crossed the room, heading towards the large door. It would be locked. It always was until the guards opened it for the morning.

To your surprise, it creaked open slowly before you could even reach it. You stood there confused, unsure if it was some sort of test. Sometimes the guards would get bored and mess with you. Of course you were never let in on these practical jokes.

When you didn’t hear any laughter you stepped out of the room and into the empty hallway.

It was always so dark in this lab compared to the one in Hawkins since this one was underground. There were lights overhead, but they flickered and buzzed like they would go out at any second.

You could feel the weak energy pouring from them. They would be easy to control if the thing in your neck wasn’t dampening your powers.

Now, anyone else would see the lack of guards and scientists as a win. But you had always thrived on routines.

And you really wanted your breakfast.

“Hello?!” You called down the hallway, waiting for someone to realize the mistake.

But no one answered. There wasn’t even the echo of footsteps or chatter. Sounds had always echoed and traveled easily throughout the bunker.

The only sound was a constant drip.

You walked down the hallway that you knew would lead to a makeshift command center. Someone would be there to yell at you about being out of your cell too early.

You reached the end of the hall, hand on the door and threw it open.

But it wasn’t the command center anymore.

You were back in the rainbow room at the Hawkins lab.

And there were bodies everywhere.

You stumbled, your back hitting the now closed and locked door behind you. There was so much blood it dripped from the walls and hit the ground in continuous splats.

You couldn’t help the blood curdling scream that escaped your lips when you recognized the faces on the bodies around you.

All of the friends you had made in Hawkins were sprawled across the room.

Including Eddie.

The lights over your head cracked and exploded as you screamed, turning and banging on the door and begging to be let out.

The sound of the intercom crackled to life but you ignored it, trying to pry the metal door open with your fingers.

“Wake up,” a voice over the intercom spoke.

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

You screamed again, using your powers to knock the door off the hinges in one blow.

You fell into the hallway and woke up in Eddie’s bed with a gasp.

He had both of his hands on your shoulder, mid shake. His face hovered over yours with a look of concern.

Your lungs ached, a telltale sign that you had been holding your breath. You wiped a bead of sweat from running down your face. When the hell had it gotten so hot in there?

“I-I’m sorry,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “I had a bad dream again.”

“Has that been happening a lot? I mean do you think he-”

“No. He can’t get in my head. I would know,” you said with a shake of your head. You didn’t know if that was true or not but you would like to think you would know 001’s presence.

Eddie pushed away from you as he sat on the side of the bed. You noticed now that his crutches were left on the other side of the room. It was probably hell for him to drag himself over to you in a hurry.

He was shaking, hand running through his hair repeatedly. His breath trembled as he tried to slow it down but you couldn’t miss the unmistakable panic on his face.

“Eddie, I’m fine,” you sat up and scooted next to him, making sure not to touch him.

“The fucking lights were flickering and I thought-I thought it was happening again,” he said with a broken voice.

You nodded solemnly. You had heard all about what happened to Chrissy Cunningham at Eddie’s previous home in Forest Hills Trailer Park.

“It’s not you, you know?” He explained without you asking. “I don’t think that you’re a bad person, it's just what you can do that scares me. And if you would have told me all of this months ago I would have thought you were the coolest person but now.” He shook his head with a scowl. “Now that I’ve seen what Vecna can do and knowing that you can do the same things as him. I just can’t be your friend. I don’t trust you and I want you to stay away from me.”

You felt your eyes start to water as you absorbed what he was telling you.

He didn’t like what you were.

He didn’t like what they made you.

You nodded, standing quickly from the bed and wiping your eyes.

“I understand,” you told him as you went to leave the room. You paused in his doorway for a moment.

“All I ask is that you don’t treat my sister like you treat me.”

You knew he wouldn’t be mean to her. He had been nothing but kind towards El and all of the kids.

You went to wait on the couch, crying alone until Wayne came home.

You didn’t see Eddie anymore before you left.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x powered! reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson request

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dumbslxtclub · 1 year

Note

what abt eddie x powered reader , he doesn’t know she has powers and they’re best friends, they are both too scared to admit their feelings and he goes on a date w another girl , so reader and eddie argue and she cries but when she does the lights r flickering and hes so confused but she has to confess eventually

delicate in every way (but one) | e.m

eddie munson x powered!reader

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, reader is 19, angst, FLUFFY fluff, no use of y/n, minor themes of anxiety (power related)

word count: 3.3K+

a/n: hi everyone, sorry for the hiatus!! life has been crazy lately, so I'm excited to share this request with you all xx

Shuffling through the chaos you call your locker, worry creeps in that, in your morning rush, you left the assigned Geometry homework in your bedroom. Casting your mind back, you recall having your jacket in one hand while you nudged the front door open, toast jammed in your mouth, and something in your other hand-

A ringed hand slams down on the locker beside you, causing you to jolt at the sound of metal on metal. The Cheshire-cat grin spread across your best friend’s face indicates his satisfaction with your reaction, the brunt of his weight finding the doors.

“T’s not good for you to think that hard. Causes wrinkles, y’know?”

“You’re gonna give me wrinkles, Munson.” Eddie smiles, always up for a banterous exchange between the two of you. He places an unlit cigarette between his plump lips, nestling the white filtered tip between rosy flesh. “Seriously?! Are you trying to get detention for the third time this week? I’m getting you to class if it kills me.”

Snatching it out of his mouth, you shove it into the worn leather adorning his chest. He dramatically falls back into the lockers once again, causing a raucous crash to echo down the depleting hallway. The remaining students turn their head in your direction, muttering indistinctly about the metalhead’s antics. After years of friendship with Eddie, your cheeks no longer burn at the judgemental attention, it’s a hazard of the trade. Besides, you have your ways of leveling the playing field with your best friend when needed.

Closing the locker, Eddie trails behind you like a lost puppy, as if he has no clue where his next class is. To be fair, you don’t doubt that that might be true, given his attendance record. Homework in hand, you trudge along making sure Eddie hasn’t wandered off like an irresponsible child in the grocery store.

“So, wanna hang out after Hellfire tonight? Got the new Iron Maiden tape the other day, but what kind of friend would I be if I listened to it without you?” The scuffling of worn Reebok’s on the linoleum flooring ceases behind you, an exhausted groan leaving your lungs. “Eddie, c’mon-”

“I, uh- I can’t hang out tonight.” Spinning on your heels, you shoot him a look of confusion.

“Okay? That’s cool, dude. But we’ve really gotta get to class so-”

Like trying to drag a stubborn mule, you grasp at Eddie’s wrist in a desperate attempt to move him. Shooting you a shit-eating grin, he plants his feet firmly, relishing in watching you put your back into trying to get him to budge.

“Don’t you wanna know what I’ve got planned?”

“Judging by how much you’re annoying me today, I’d say you’ve got a hot date with your right hand later.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush slightly at the insinuation, shaking his head sheepishly.

“No, well- you’ve got the first part right.”

Releasing his wrist from your tug-of-war, you stumble back slightly before you process this new information.

“Really?”

“Shit, don’t sound so surprised, sweetheart.” Eddie quips, words dripping with teasing sarcasm.

On one hand, you’re not surprised at all. Eddie is indisputably gorgeous. Large chocolate-brown eyes, a jawline that looks like it was carved by the gods themselves, and the kindest heart you’d ever encountered. In your eyes, he was the full package. Key word being your. It was no secret that Eddie’s reputation preceded him around town, he didn’t exactly have girls lined up around the block waiting to date him. But you knew how he could exercise his charm, when given the opportunity and perfect victim.

“With who?” Poker-face on, you try to sound as detached as possible.

“Maggie. You know, the new girl?”

Oh, you knew her alright. You watched as she unpacked her perfect little life from a U-Haul a few months back, moving into the white picket house across from yours. Though you hadn’t had any real interactions with her, you noticed how easily things came to her. Within her first week at Hawkins High, you witnessed her riding her bike home in a brand new cheer uniform, having been quickly indoctrinated. But on the weekends, she’d often help her mother tend to the garden in a band tee before jumping in her second-hand station wagon to make the most of a Saturday night with no curfew. With brown curls somehow perfectly imperfect, sultry eyes to rival Susanna Hoffs and a carefree attitude, it’s not hard to see how she could have any man swooning for her. Eddie, being no exception. Your mind begins racing over how they could have met, Eddie did seem especially cheerful on Monday after going to a concert that weekend. The one you were supposed to go to, if your mom hadn't found the vodka stuffed under your mattress and grounded you. Is that how they met? Fuck, maybe if you’d been there…

“Yeah, I think I know the one. What’re you guys gonna do?”

Eddie joins you side by side, thankful that you can now speed-walk to disperse some of the nervous energy brewing.

“Think we’re gonna go and see Friday the 13th at the drive-in cinema. They’re up to, like, the sixth one now so I imagine it’ll be a bit of a snooze-fest, but it’s all that’s on that late.”

Great. Eddie and a girl, alone in his van. At the drive-in cinema. Cuddled up watching a horror film. Picturing it is enough to make you want to vomit into your backpack.

“Sounds fun.” It does not, in fact, sound fun.

Thankfully, the final bell signifies your impending tardiness, causing the two of you to bolt to Geometry.

It’s hard to focus on what Mr Watts is talking about at the best of times, but your mind is fixated on Eddie. In your heart, you know he deserves to have a good time. He’s a gentleman, any girl would be lucky to date him. But the green-eyed monster had her ugly talons stuck deep into your back long before now. It’s getting harder and harder to suppress your growing feelings for your best friend, stealing glances at him any chance you get. But it’s not worth the risk, not with all you have to lose. He’s your rock, the only person on this planet you can talk to about anything. And you’re not about to jeopardize your friendship over some silly crush. And yet, you also can’t help but feel an unfair notion that Eddie is somehow to blame for this. It could be so easy to misinterpret his naturally flirty nature for romantic intentions. How he opens every door for you, makes you mix-tapes of your favorite bands, picks you up for late-night drives to get the best view of the city. Every action is another addition to a precarious house of cards, doomed to collapse. Glancing over at Eddie, he is absent-mindedly tapping his pencil against the wooden desk. On any other day, it wouldn’t bother you. But today, it’s enough to drive you mad. Honing in all of your attention on the pencil, your gaze remains fixated on the object. All you can hear is the tap, tap, tap flooding your ears, his stupid rings reflecting light across the room. You furrow your brows, take a deep breath, and-

The pencil launches out of Eddie’s hand, clattering to the ground beneath him, drawing the attention of half the class.

“Mr Munson, could you please for once pay attention?” Mr Watts, clearly unimpressed by Eddie’s interruption, earns a few sniggers from students around him.

“Shi- sorry, Sir.” Eddie, completely baffled by what just happened, leans down to pick up the pencil. A smile creeps across your lips, and Eddie follows the pencil beneath your desk. Retrieving it, a worried look washes across his face as he glances up at you.

“Woah, you okay?” His tone is hushed, as not to draw any more attention to himself. You’re now acutely aware of the small stream of blood trickling from your nostril, wetting your upper lip in a metallic maroon. Quickly swiping it away, you pretend to busy yourself in your notebook.

“Yeah. ‘M fine.”

Call me when you get home safely.

The golden rule, never to be broken. Words uttered like gospel every time you and Eddie part ways at the end of a long night, a foundation in your friendship. After Hellfire wrapped up, you elected to drive home separately as Eddie wanted to head straight home to freshen up for his date. With a firm embrace, you muttered the words to him as you had countless times before, him nodding in acknowledgement against the crook of your shoulder.

12:46am.

Eddie would have been due home an hour ago, accounting for time he and Maggie might have spent chatting away in the car after a disappointing slash-fest. Yet the corded phone beside your bed remains neglected, heavy-lidded eyes glancing over at it sporadically as you try to busy yourself in a book.

What is taking him so long? He never forgets to call unless-

Unless he’s still with her. Images flash through your mind's eye, Eddie driving Maggie around town blasting the music you’d shown him. Pulling up to one of your usual hang-out spots, smoke filling the back of the van as the two swap spit on the end of a blunt. Ringed hands slipping under the soft cotton of her shirt, grasping at soft skin as the pair-

Nope, not going there. With a huff, you throw your book haphazardly to the side and flick off the bedside table, praying sleep will come soon.

You allow the phone to ring off the hook all of Saturday. You have no interest in talking to Eddie right now, your social battery drained at the mere thought of feigning interest over how his date went. And so, you keep yourself occupied, willingly cleaning your room just to have something to fill the dead space of time. Rearranging the trinkets on your windowsill, you spot a figure crossing the adjacent lawn. Maggie unlocks her bike from the patio railing, placing a bag in the wicker basket attached to the front. You try to pry your gaze from her, but something catches your eye. A band tee, one you haven’t seen her in before, hangs loosely on her frame, faded and gray from years of love. It’s familiar. Similar to the one that you bought for Eddie last year, thrifting it as a birthday present after scraping pennies together. Probably a coincidence, you tell yourself, bile building in your throat, failing to convince yourself.

The phone rings a handful of times throughout the day, a fragment of the white noise reverberating through your head. Drowning out the voices, the self doubt, only to fuel the fire just as imminently. With your parents out of town for the weekend, the house feels desolate. An echoing chamber of solitude, combated by the unwanted images flooding your brain. You should feel happy for Eddie. He deserves love. But god, why does it have to be her love?

Against all odds, the barrage of thoughts ceases long enough for you to doze off on the couch, granting you a fleeting moment of peace. A moment cut short by a sharp and firm knock at the door. Maybe if you ignore it, they will go away, leaving you to your nest of despair. But it doesn’t. The knocks grow louder, more intense, causing you to groan as you pry yourself off the couch. Curtains ajar, you see the dusky sky outside casting shadows across the faintly lit street. Flicking on the floor lamp as you pass into the entryway, the knocking incessantly continues.

“Alright, I’m coming!” Post-nap grumpiness is in full flight as you swing open the front door. Eddie stands before you, leather jacket hanging off his slim frame, wallet-chain catching the last light of the day. But instead of his usual goofy smile plastered on his face, he looks entirely unimpressed.

“Oh, she lives!” His words are dripping with sarcasm, not waiting for you to invite him in.

“What are you doing here?” You quip back, shutting the door behind you.

“Y’know, just making sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. Forgive me.” Eddie paces straight for the living room, charged up with too much energy.

“Okay, well, as you can see-” You gesture to yourself with a flourish, “-I’m not. So, you didn’t need to waste gas driving out here.”

“Since when do you not pick up the phone? I’ve been trying to call all day!” Eddie’s typical jovial tone is nowhere to be found, instead having been replaced by dourness.

“God, sorry. Didn’t realize you’d only pick up the phone when it suited you.”

Eddie’s eyes squint slightly, incredulous as he absorbs your comment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” God, men are thick.

“You never called to let me know that you got home safely. I sat up half the night waiting for you to ring, and nothing! But I’m sure you lost track of time with Maggie-”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, the logical side of his brain working overtime to figure out why you’re being so short with him. But as soon as you drop Maggie’s name, the puzzle pieces click into place.

“Is that what this is about?”

“Is what about?”

“This!” Eddie gestures with his hand in your direction. “This attitude you’ve had going on for days.”

“Oh my god. You’ve woken me up, stormed into my house and accused me of having an attitude. So forgive me if my hospitality is lacking, Eddie!”

“Does it have something to do with Maggie?” His question is point-blank, and it catches you off guard.

“No!” You blurt out a little too quickly, doing little to convince him.

“Do you not like her or something?”

“Why do you care if I like her or not? You like her, and that’s all that matters. So can we just drop this?”

Blood begins boiling beneath the surface, a harbinger of emotions close to spiraling out of control. You need a second of solitude, to bring everything back to baseline. It’s happened with your family, even with bullies at school, but never been in the presence of Eddie for. It scares you, how your powers can lash out before you do, and you don’t want Eddie to be caught in the crossfire.

“We need to talk about this-”

“No, we don’t!”

“I just don’t get why you’re acting like this-”

“Eddie, you need to leave.”

Heart pounding in your chest, breath growing a little too fast for your liking. Pulse racing against the delicate skin of your neck, tears brimming close to the precipice. A quick glance over to the one illuminated lamp in the corner confirms your fears, the bulb flashing indiscriminately behind Eddie’s shoulder. Thankfully, his stern gaze remains fixed on you.

“No! I’m not going anywhere until-”

“Eddie, please-” An unsteady breath betrays you, voice cracking on your last word while a tear escapes your lash line. White noise clouds your brain, a haze forming around logic and control. Even with your eyes pinched shut, the glow of the frantically flickering lamp remains visible behind your lids. Eddie’s voice grows muffled, a scrambling of sound waves assaulting your eardrums and causing you to buckle over. Instinctively, your palms clamp down over your ears as you do your best to count to five. Feel the soft carpet beneath your socked feet. Smell the fresh flowers your mother placed in a vase next in the entranceway. Taste the metallic blood dripping from your nose, finding its way into your parted lips. Anything to bring you back to reality. And it’s not working.

Not until two firm hands grasp your shoulders, and you distantly hear Eddie’s voice calling out to you.

“-Hey! Please, look at me…”

A deep, diaphragmatic breath is required as courage to pry your damp eyes open, and take in the image before you. Eddie is crouched down, level with you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen. He looks terrified.

“Oh my god-” He quickly throws his arms around you, tucking you in tight to his chest. His familiar musky scent is comforting, grounding you in a sense of safety.

“‘M sorry, Eddie.” Words barely louder than a squeak, Eddie tightens his grip around you and pulls you in closer.

“Fuck, I thought-” His chest rises unsteadily, voice quivering. “- that was, it was just like Chrissy.”

A sharp pang of guilt hits you deep in your gut. The lights. The zoning out. He’s seen it before, a year ago with Chrissy, and you never considered how triggering it might be for him to witness the effects of your powers out of context.

“I’m okay.” It takes everything for you to pull away from him, but you need to offer him the same comfort he’s granted you. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“Told me?”

You can’t help but chuckle at how weird it is to say out loud.

“You know how El has powers? Well, I kind of do too.” Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing beneath his mess of bangs. “Not like, to the same extent. But sometimes, if I get overwhelmed or experience some sort of strong emotion, shit like that happens.”

Eddie is speechless. Not that you blame him, it’s not every day you learn of your best friend’s superpowers. His eyes dart around your face, as if searching for any indication that this is a joke. But as your expression remains serious, his whole demeanor softens.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wasn’t safe.” You reply, shaking your head. “I mean, look at El. I just- I didn’t want to put you at risk.”

“No, no. I get it.” Eddie’s hand absent-mindedly brushes some of your hair out of your face. “You said it happens when you feel something strong. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you-”

“No! It wasn’t that, I’ve felt it coming for a while now.” Chuckling sheepishly, you quickly wipe away any remaining tears from your flushed cheeks.

“What, were you like, jealous or something?” Eddie laughs, his signature grin creeping across his face. At his question, you feel your breath catch again, smile faltering minutely. Eddie doesn’t miss this, and he leans in a little closer. “Oh my god, you were, weren’t you?”

“You don’t have to rub it in, asshole.” You give him a small shove to the chest, an embarrassed laugh catching in your throat. His hand catches yours, trapping it in place between his palm and the cotton shirt. Your eyes focus on the shirt. Grey, worn from years of love. The one you’d thrifted for him as a birthday present last year. And your heart swells.

“So, let me get this straight.” Dimples settle deep into his smile lines as his gaze bores into you. “My best friend has powers, and a crush on me?”

Your free hand finds its way to your face, running down the length with exasperation.

“Yep, pretty much. And you can add jealous bitch to that list too.”

“Well, as it turns out, Maggie is a total dud. Ran off half way through the film because she spotted some of her cheer friends in the parking lot.”

“She didn’t!”

“Oh, but she did. Although, it wasn’t all bad, meant I could smoke the rest of my stash to myself. Aaand then I passed out in the back, woke up the next morning and came straight home.” “Sounds like a shit drive-in date.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head.

“Sure was. Maybe you and I could right some wrongs next Saturday? My treat, think of it as my apology for not calling.”

You can’t contain the grin threatening to spread across your face.

“It’s a date.”

#eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson request #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #powered!reader #dumbslxtclub

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oceanofflavor · 2 years

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Nothing will ever be funnier to me than the Duffer Brothers creating Eddie Munson and bringing him into the show just to kill him off because they're too scared to kill off any of their main characters then it totally blowing up in their faces because everyone fell in love with him and he became the most talked about thing in season 4.

They tried to play it safe like they do every season, by bringing in a new character and killing them off at the end of the season so they could have an emotional death, but avoid killing off any of the main characters whose deaths would actually impact the story and it finally backfired on them.

I have to laugh. It’s ridiculous. They’re ridiculous. Yes, I’m still crushed over Eddie’s death, it broke my heart, but this backlash they're getting is hilarious because their same old tricks finally caught up to them and they're never going to hear the end of it.

#joseph quinn #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #the duffers are so scared to take risks #it’s hilarious #they couldn’t even commit to killing max #not that i wanted her to die #i love her #but gave el god like powers to save her so she wouldn't be dead dead #while eddie died #and from what?#the same wounds that steve got when he was better protected than steve #the plot armor some of these characters i love have is making me resent them for real #i’m so tired #anyway #eddie munson should be alive

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hellmunsonfire · 1 year

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i love you like i love rings

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson rp #stranger things #eddie munson roleplay #eddie munson edit #eddie munson fic #roleplay #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson fandom #stranger things fanfiction #tattoos #body piercings #the rings of power

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hafren-isolde · 2 years

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is it just me or did they copy and paste steve harrington’s hair onto elrond

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kissitbttr · 2 years

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omfg the mean femcheerleader x eddie 😩. it’s so so amazing i love ittt. imagine her sitting in his lap during hellfire. or him groping her during lunch and her yelling at some bitch who was commenting on hellfire. i’m sorry absolute brain rott. and she lovvesss showing off the marks eddie makes on her. and covering eddie in her own marks so everyone knows who he belongs to

hii sweetheart! thank you for loving it, i appreciate it sm!!

and OH yes i agree completely! they would be so touchy with each other and definitely not shying away from pda, despite the complaints from eddie’s friends lol. thanks to her, eddie is coming out of his shell and is far more comfortable now!

“eddie can you please, stop grabbing your girlfriend’s backside during our campaign?”

“what? she has a nice ass! you’re telling me i can’t squeeze that??”

“he’s right baby, you need to keep your hands off of me if you want to win”

“why are you listening to him? i can multitask!”

ALSO 100% AGREE ABOUT THE MARKS!!! i feel like eddie would be so fucking proud about leaving hickies all over her neck and boobs that it’d make it impossible for her to cover them

“how do you make hickies look so sexy eds? i am definitely not wearing a jacket tomorrow”

“i did pretty good huh?” he smirks, admiring the pretty marks on your breasts. he comes up from your behind before wrapping his arms around your waist.“now everyone knows you’re mine and not to fuck around with me”

and when she decides to leave ones on him all over his chest, neck—with lipstick marks adorn his cheeks— he’d be so cocky about it and refuse to cover even just one

“hey eddie, don’t you wanna cover that up?” dustin asks, gesturing his neck area that are covered in small splotches of red and blue bruises. “also the… lipstick its-“

“it’s what, henderson? gross? unsanitary?!”

“no! i just think-“

“i like leaving them on. I’m not covering shit! it’s my girl’s work of art so stop asking.”

“ugh gross”

just for that, he’d be wearing tanktops to school or even shirtless if he could

#their power>>>>#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x mean!cheerleader #eddie things #eddie munson blurbs

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cloveroctobers · 9 months

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SILENCE — ANGEL REYES x OC x CANE TEJADA | Part ii.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m actually doing a part two since I never do those because they don’t ever preform as well as the first but after that (terrible) finale I couldn’t resist. Thanks for the support on the first one, hopefully this will bring some sense of more life for Angel. if this is my last piece for him then why not also go out with a little something? He’s the last man standing apparently so here’s a send off on my part.

WARNINGS: language, hints of coping mechanisms? Or Mental illness Therapy is mentioned, I’ve also been binge-watching 9-1-1 from the beginning, I’m currently on season 4 I think! which is why Eddie’s character is mentioned but he doesn’t make a appearance so please skip over this if you’re feeling some type of way about that and are looking for a eddie based fic. I will be writing something for him soon btw. There’s also a little surprise towards the end for certain lovers who might read this.

*GIF and photos DO NOT BELONG TO ME!

Read part one here. + using this prompt and number 21. Timing

*ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *

Solay’s half asleep, the soft horns sounding from the NBA game Cane’s got his hands on was actually comforting and it often reminded her of nights when her and her sister would fall asleep on the couch together while their father watched the game. It was late, once watching the clock going from midnight to 2 am, she was once wired, greasing cane’s hair and brushing his waves before securing the doo-rag around his head.

It was a typical night, their version of normal until harsh knocks sounded at the door, breaking Solay out of her slumber. Her eyes felt heavy but she was alert and so was Cane as he paused the game, picking up on the knocks that appeared at the door some more. He tossed the controller onto the coffee table, moving slowly as he reaches underneath the cushion of the couch Solay was lounging on.

His low-lidded eyes briefly met her’s as he brings a single finger up to his lips after taking the safety off. Cane’s on his feet now while Solay shortly follows after, reaching over to turn off the side lamp and ready to head to the back of the home to check on her son, Xavier.

Cane wasn’t sure who it could be, he knew it couldn’t be any of his people considering the situation back home but he figured it could be Tariq’s bitch ass, you just never know with him. He’s against the door now, peeking around but all he could see was a shadow of someone.

Yanking the door back to fly against the wall, he’s quick with his grip as he aims the gun right at Angel Reyes who hold’s out a arm while he cradles his son.

“Fuck you want?” Cane asks.

Angel looks down but it’s not like Cane cares, although it seems he lowers the gun just a bit, for the baby’s sake.

“I need to talk to soso.”

“Nig—, you know what time it is? Knocking on the damn door like you the feds or some shit? What makes you think it’s okay to show up here unannounced at this time of the night?” Cane’s tone is clipped.

Angel shifts Maverick in his arms as he says, “that’s a conversation I need to have with Solay, not you.”

“Last time I checked, she ain’t with your ass no more and I’m the man of this house so you want to run that by me again?”

A house Angel was damn sure Cane didn’t put a penny down to help with the mortgage.

The darkness underneath Angel’s eyes was deafening but the twitch of his brows was evident that he had no intentions of backing down. He still felt a way about Cane showing up to his house and Angel thought he could do the same. If this was his house but Angel couldn’t see himself in the big apple.

It was only right in his eyes.

Before he can send a rebuttal at the shorter brown skinned man, Solay appears from behind Cane, who lets out a sigh before sucking his teeth.

“Enrique Iglesias is here,” Cane informs Solay who pulls her robe tighter around her body.

She hasn’t seen Angel since the funeral for Felipe. Understandably so, he needed time to grieve but she figured he was doing it alone due to the decline of Ezekiel’s relationship with the man and that couldn’t be healthy. And it wasn’t like Solay saw Angel much before that either, he showed up to the second therapy session but it was clear that his mind was somewhere else. Which wasn’t unusual when it came to his precious club but Solay didn’t pry since it seemed like Angel was always on the go or lost in his thoughts. It’s not like she didn’t care but he was the one who encouraged her there to these sessions but her gut also told her that it would always be only a matter of time.

Until he moved on to something else.

Timing was never something Angel managed well. If shit came at him, he was usually thrown for a loop depending on what it was and never had guidelines for plans or anything like that. He was more take things as they were tossed at him type of person but ever since EZ got into that president’s chair and Angel got the chance to raise Maverick, he was also changing.

“Angel…” solay started as she took in his appearance, she could tell that something was wrong, “what’s going on?”

Angel swallowed the lump in his throat and if Cane wasn’t in the room right now, he probably would have collapsed into Solay’s arms. She could see that, she could sense that. It was in his eyes, that he was hurting and sure way back when that might have gave Solay the tiniest bit of satisfaction but that’s not where they were now.

She was annoyed he stopped showing up to the sessions but brushed it off after awhile, saying that she “knew it,” up until Felipe was gunned down in Angel’s childhood home. There was always something going on with Angel and although they were trying to work on their relationship, Solay knew she couldn’t be selfish.

She didn’t have the heart to be.

Solay waved Angel in, despite the incredulous look Cane shot her way. She’s locking the door behind him and rests her hand on Angel’s lower back, which surprisingly makes him flinch as she does.

A brow raises at that but Solay says, “come into the living room.”

“Yeah okay…where’s Xavy?”

“Sleeping like yo ass should be.” Cane mutters, while Solay sends him a sharp look.

He places the lock back on the gun and puts it into the waist band of his basketball shorts, clasping his hands in front of him as he eyes Solay being so gentle with a dude that didn’t deserve it. Cane was heavy on that, “fuck the fact that he’s your baby’s father, after everything he put you through? Why are you still concerned when you knew he was gonna pull that shit? He doesn’t care about you like I do and I’m not even sure he gives that much of a fuck about Xavier.”

This was said after Angel stopped showing up to the sessions and Solay didn’t want to hear it. It didn’t feel like cane’s place—although she vented to him and he did the shit-talking to mainly make her feel better—and it also wasn’t angel’s place to feel a way about her seeing someone else.

Solay inhales as she sits on the coffee table, crossing one leg over the other as she takes in her ex-husband. He’s barely blinking as he stares off in space and Solay isn’t sure what to do about this.

“Talk to me,” she says bringing Angel’s dark eyes to meet her doe ones, “what happened?”

Angel places his lips against a sleeping Maverick’s temple that he cradles and then blows out a breath, “where do I start? Luisa’s gone, just buried my pops, now EZ’s dead—which I—I played a part in, I’m out the club and now I need you and Xavier to come with me to Arizona.”

Cane is laughing it up now while Solay is almost at a lost for words. She wasn’t surprised about Luisa but it would probably explain why Angel was checked out and why he moved in with Felipe. They haven’t really talked like they used to be able to do so hearing all of this—about what was going on in Angel’s world was a lot to process.

It always was.

“What do you mean…EZ’s dead?” Solay croaked out, shifting as she held out a hand to silence the man behind them.

Angel rubs at his exhausted face now, “The club found out…now it’s over. I buried him myself out on the road and I wish I never encouraged him to be in this shit you know? Maybe he’d still be here being a smart ass. My brother’s gone and I don’t got nothing left. This dried blood on my hands…it’s not worth it no more. Which is why I need you and Xavy to come with me before the feds come because I know they will. It’s only a matter of time.”

Solay searched Angel’s eyes and they held sincerity. It was all finally coming full circle now, what she’s been telling him for years…that the club’s brotherhood wouldn’t end well. Not when there was so much dirt, blood, lack of values, and deceit behind it. She had no issue speaking her peace on the club way back when (she also felt a way when she learned that EZ was getting involved fresh out of being locked up but angel didn’t want to hear that shit either) and sure she got along with some of the men there but it’s not like she was ever clueless to what it was. Solay was tired of constantly looking over her shoulder when it came to Angel’s club and that feeling never went away, even when she gave birth to their son and even when they were officially divorced. Everything was crumbling down around Angel and he was trying to get out for good.

“You want me to just pick everything up and follow you to Arizona?”

Angel dips his head, “yeah, it’ll be different this time. And I’m not saying let’s go off and get remarried or nothing like that but we could be something real. A family again.”

“Yeah a real fucked up one,” Cane comments, making Angel realize that he was in fact still in the room with them, “so let’s get this straight? Your daddy’s gone, that bitch you cheated with up and left your ass—which probably means she’s six feet under too—yeah I know exactly what she’s really into and it’s clear you’re too dumb to figure that out still, and now for a club to kill one of their own…it’s evident that your brother was some sort of snitch who got what was comin’ to him. But the ultimate disrespect is you coming back up in here with your tail in between your legs, thinking you can just take back what you lost long ago.”

“Listen man, you watch your damn mouth when it comes to my blood.” Angel points a warning finger at the man who chuckles; not the least bit threatened, “this is much bigger than your fucken ego. I’m looking out for Solay and our son, this don’t got shit to do with you. Never has. You can leave and go back to your own crooked shit in New York and leave Solay and my son out of it.”

Now isn’t that the coffee calling the kettle black?

Cane furrowed his brows, “Now you wanna win the father of the year award? You ain’t never been shit as far as I can tell and you’re never gonna be shit. Solay’s not going nowhere with you, she’s good on that.”

Solay got to her feet now as Angel glared at Cane who was all smirks, knowing he could get underneath the vulnerable older man’s skin so easily, “I’m going to need the both of you stop speaking for me.”

Both men kept their heated stares on each other but Cane couldn’t take Angel seriously with a child in his arms. The silence was weighing down the living room as Solay began to pace the floor. She didn’t know all of the details and didn’t think she would with Cane in the room. There was truth in his words when it came to the club—this Solay knew, although she was always on the outside when it came to anything revolving around the Mayans.

“Cane…I need a minute.”

“Aight, let’s go.” Cane was ready to lead the way back to the bedroom with a nod of his head in the direction of the room but a shake of Solay’s head had him confused.

Solay met Cane’s hooded eyes, “with Angel, alone.”

“I know you’re not considering leaving with this clown, So.”

Angel shrugged his shoulders, “It shouldn’t matter to you no way, the only reason you still stuck around is to get some product right? Now that that’s gone—you don’t need me or Solay. So maybe you should start saying your goodbyes now.”

Which provoked cane to whip out the gun again, until Solay reached for his wrist, making cane glance at her, ready to shove her hand off but he moved his stare back to Angel who had a sly smirk on the corner of his own lips.

“You act like you’re the only one I can do business with.” Cane tightened his stare, “Heroin ain’t really my lane but I thought why not since I’m here? You fucked that up like you constantly do and there you go again assuming shit about my relationship with Solay and you don’t know the first thing about it.”

Angel lifted his shoulders, “I know you ain’t no better than me and you don’t really care about Solay as much as you claim you do. It’s all a game but the difference is I’m always gonna be around, you on the other hand are disposable and I’mma always have my son’s best interest at heart. Solay’s the bonus.”

Cane rolled his eyes, “Let me find you a gold sticker for your forehead—

“ENOUGH!” Solay screams at the both of them, carefully peaking over at the sleeping baby afterwards,“this back and forth is getting on my nerves. Let me think in peace for a little bit, just go Cane.”

She orders.

Cane kisses his teeth and walked off, knowing that it was best before he might actually let some bullets fly.

Solay massaged the space in between her thin brows as her mind began spinning. She thought about all the bad the club brought to her front door and she was just leveling up without it.

So it seemed.

Now here Angel, a man she used to be in love with, a troubled man she wanted to spend forever with once upon a time, the man she shared a child with, was here telling her he was out. Out of the club, something she wanted for years for him because she knew that club wasn’t his purpose. He didn’t see it then but he saw it now. Solay’s faced a lot when it came to the club, with Angel’s disappearing for days at a time making her believe one of those days he wouldn’t come home to her, quality time being cancelled so he could be more dedicated to that club instead, cleaning up his wounds due to all sorts of danger he was involved in, he fucked those bartending bitches behind her back while some of those men smiled in her face knowing his dirt, to having a false sense of protection that led to being tied up, beat on so bad and left alone in a burning building years ago—which she just finished paying off a hospital bill for.

All of those instances let Solay know that The Mayans weren’t some saints by any means but Solay knew Angel loved that brotherhood once upon a time. He was slowly changing and morphing into something else—maybe something better—over these last couple of years but Solay figured that’s what happens when on-going lost comes your way. Gives you a bit of a wake up call and proud wasnt the word she would ever use (everyone that he lost still mattered to her as well) but it was about damn time.

It’s just unfournate how it all played out and there was so much to weigh out here. Solay knew she and Xavier would probably be harassed despite Angel being officially out of the Mayans. The war doesn’t just end and given what state Angel was in—numb yet determined, sitting in her living room clenching onto Maverick, Solay knew this war would just brew many more.

She would be affiliated no matter what and so would their son and so would Mavy—if not more thanks to who his mother is or was. This would always be Angel’s doing and she wasn’t blaming him, that wouldn’t get her anywhere she realized but it was a fact. She was with Angel right when the club was just an idea, a one night stand which later turned serious not long after he got patched in, back when he and Coco just moved into the Azure apartment complexes. The Mayans ripped through Angel, that much she could tell and many in her position would jump at the chance to shout at him, “I told your ass!”

Except Solay closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, rolling the tension out of her shoulders before she met Angel’s stare.

“Tell me all of it but take it easy when it comes to…Ezekiel.” She tells Angel, feeling a twing in her own chest at the thought of the brother she couldn’t save.

Angel held his ex-wife’s stare and inhaled a shaky breath, “…alright.”

Life in the desert was not something Solay thought she would ever be part of. She immediately thought of dry skin 24/7 when she had combo skin. Yes there were deserts back home but at least there was a downtown area that wasn’t far from her home. This transition was certainly just that. She’s in the kitchen in a daze, the southwest home is quiet in her mind as she’s drying the last dish. Her eyes are set on the two square windows by the dining table off to the side of the strangely shaped kitchen, back pressed into the kitchen sink.

It’s a early Monday afternoon, September just hit the calendar and she’s lost track of time. A hand catches her off guard as they tug on the belt hoops of her Jean skirt, making her gaze turn down to her seven year old who’s peering up at her with her mirrored doe-shaped eyes and his father’s nose.

“We’re back from the pool, mommy!” Xavier signs as Solay smiles sweetly at him, hand going around his shoulders to squeeze him to her hips.

She didn’t even pick up on him entering the sliding doors by the dining room, her mind elsewhere.

Labor Day came around much quicker than expected and they had their little celebration that Sunday but Xavier seemed to love the water and couldn’t get enough. Which means Angel was on duty for taking him and Maverick to the pool out back while Solay did a few minor things for work online and cleaned up the lunch angel ordered.

Solay signs, “Did you have fun?”

“Always!” Xavier laughs with a nod of his head.

“Good, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The boy groans as Solay gives him a stern look while he spins on his damp heels before stomping out the kitchen and headed towards his room.

Solay lightly laughs with a shake of her head.

“Xavy pouting about clean up time again?”

“Yeah the usual,” solay shrugs as the man makes his way over to her while she reaches to brush a wet strand of a two year old Maverick’s hair back, “everything go alright out there?”

Angel bends to put Maverick on his feet, the little man taking off on his chubby feet to find his big brother, “yeah, why wouldn’t it be? It’s hot as shit out there though. Isn’t autumn supposed to be here by now?”

“We just touched September,” Solay states kind of ignoring the question he asked back, “and you’re the one who picked Arizona, not me.”

Angel lifts his chin, “you could have talked me out of it though.”

“You don’t listen to nobody but your own big ass head.”

Angel shrugged as he leaned his elbows back on the dark wooded island that was rolled and locked in place on a angle in the kitchen, “seriously though, I’ve seen you in here looking like you’re off in space and shit. You sure you’re alright?”

Ever since Solay made the decision to be here with Angel, Maverick, and Xavier, Angel always made it his task to question how she was holding up. Like it was devastating or like she had regrets being here but that’s not truly how she felt. She wasn’t sure how she felt, Solay couldn’t really explain it. She just knows she feels something unsettling often. After Angel told her the truth back in her old stucco home in Santo Padre, she knew getting the hell out of dodge was also the best option.

They weren’t together but they found a new therapist and communicated much better. Angel worked two jobs, first considering a semi-truck driving job but declined once he knew how much hours he would have to put in and how long he would be away from his family. He was persistent on turning over a new leaf. Of course he still had scraps of his own money and Luisa’s blood money but he promised Solay that he wouldn’t use that money when it came to renting their home. He could do whatever he wanted with it but not when it came to their new home or Xavier. So he worked as a custodian at a middle school full-time and a delivery driver on Friday and most Saturday nights.

Solay signed over the building to her second in command at her shop to continue running her business in Santo Padre and if she wished to turn it into her own, she could. Solay was expecting and waiting for the day that would happen. Her main focus was running her e-commerce shop for her beauty line which continued to be successful and having her products distributed in over seven spas in the major cities of Arizona. She was still doing well and adapted to the new setting although her family was very vocal on this big leap.

Her dad still wasn’t vibing with Angel like that after all these years and knew from the jump that he continued to get his daughter into some mess. It really wasn’t like that but a father always knows and he had no problem booking flights with his ex wife, Solay’s mother to vacation in this hot ass desert right at their house. Her big sister on the other hand? She made it routine to talk to Solay and her nephew, Xavier almost every day.

In a way having Solay’s family around a few times out of the year kinda made him forget missing his own. Almost. Even when he was got in disagreements with Solay’s opinionated father. He could laugh about it once he dropped them off at the airport and brush off the touch of overbearingness because that’s just how Solay’s family was.

He was still down to go to the end of the earth with her as he eyed her in a new light now. Part of him expected Solay to just kick him out that night and keep him away from Xavier. Instead he gave her the littlest bit of time to decide, on his terms and even though everything seemed to be moving rapidly to him, he understood that Solay didn’t operate like that. Things could be drippy when this type of news was delivered and felt overwhelming. She had to sit with all the information Angel gave her, then analyze it all and take Xavier into account before moving forward.

Maybe this was just what they needed, a change of scenery, away from the Mayans and what that town brought into their lives. It wasn’t perfect by any means but life was much more slow-paced now. Initially this is what Solay wanted, a soft girl era but there was always this haunting feeling that shifted from her chest down to her gut.

“Do I?” She asked, snapping out of it.

Angel started tossing a plum up into the air, “don’t know if you notice but you just did it again. Felt like twelve hours later that you answered me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you mean it though?”

“What?”

“You’d tell me if something is wrong right? If you don’t want to do this anymore—

“Shush. It’s not ideal but it works for now.”

Angel dipped his head at this. He was very much aware that Solay could run off into the night if she truly wanted to but she was also invested in beating the odds. She wanted a stable home for their son. It made sense to Angel and knew it didn’t to anybody else and sure it was rocky at first with Xavier having trouble adjusting to the new environment—which kicked mama bear Solay in play, who had no issue telling administrators to be more accommodating to those with special needs (there was a serious lack of specific hearing impaired schools in small towns like this and santo padre but at least back home there was one educator that was also an interpreter) —Angel had to hide the chairs let’s just say that and Angel also had no issue telling the kid that picked on Xavy that he’d “fuck him up,” which the kid repeated but his own parents didn’t believe that surprisingly.

Probably because the wife and her husband had their eyes on angel. Solay was completely convinced that they were swingers but Angel laughed it off until his ass got squeezed by one of them at a third meeting.

“Alright then…wanna talk about that date with the firefighter?”

Solay scowled, “it wasn’t a date.”

“You went to a cooking class together this time around and a escape room before that, which he had a advantage to considering his job by the way. I’d say it’s a date, why are you being so weird about it?” Angel’s tossing the fruit up in the air but frowning over at the woman.

Solay scratches at her scalp above her scarf in irritation before moving to leave the kitchen and entered the living room that’s right next to it, “i’m not being weird about it. I just don’t think I need to talk to you about it.”

“Why not? I’m not feelin’ no type of way about it if that’s what you’re thinking. are we not besties now?” Angel followed after Solay who flicked the reruns of a talk-show off.

Solay scoffed as she looked over at angel in disbelief, “we’re roomies at best.”

“Exactly, besties.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I think it would help Edgar sleep better at night if you just admit yall are going on dates.” Angel teased as he leaned towards Solay who gave him the hand on her way by.

“That’s not even his name!”

Angel called out to her, “I know it starts with an E though. I gotta be close.”

“Eddie.” Solay told him, “Short for Edmundo and that’s all I’m gonna say about him to you.”

“Edmundo? Awl shit, you got a type!”

“Shut the hell—I’m gonna tend to the kids.”

“Yeah uh huh, you can get away from this conversation now but I’ll just ease drop some more when you’re gossiping about ‘im when you’re on the phone with big sis.” Angel commented as Solay rolled her eyes and made her exit.

If you asked solay she would say Angel’s the one being weird about this. It’s been two years since they left and Angel was keen on seeing solay get back out there and find her perfect match or whatever. He seemed to be more for it than Solay herself. She wasn’t really searching when Eddie came along in a bar (with a few others) she was having dinner solo in and she definitely brought it up to their therapist, who said it was Angel’s way of trying to make up for the unhappiness he brought her.

Still that was more weird than them living in a house together raising their sons in Solay’s eyes. A more normal reaction would be Angel grilling the casual dates Solay went on but now he was ready to hear how it was going and when he would meet them. Solay’s only been on two dates with Eddie and he was a complete gentleman, had a excellent job, a bit dorky and nervous? which gave Solay the indication that he did like her a little bit when he stumbled over his words asking her out for the first time but knew how to keep a conversation going, it was easy flowing. Almost too easy and Solay wasn’t used to easy.

At all.

She’s helping an annoyed Xavier with a Luke-temp bath, putting her thoughts on mute after hearing Angel tend to Maverick in Xavier’s room, coming up with all sorts of sound effects as if they were pilots (she thinks) since Maverick seemed to enjoy airplanes.

“Mom,” Xavier gets Solay’s attention again, sticking his finger into her nostril.

She flinched back making the boy laugh in her expense while she shook her head at him with a disapproving smile. He’s pointing behind her at the counter and Solay turns as she sits on the closed lid, reaching for her vibrating phone, which shows its her old employee calling her.

“Hey Idil, I know you’re not working on the holiday?” Solay greets after putting the call on speaker.

There’s loud shuffling on the line, which makes solay furrow her brows a bit as she turns back to the phone, “Idil?”

“Sup, so. You miss me?”

Solay pauses as she picks up on the familiar voice, “…Cane…what’re you doing?”

“Business. That’s all I’m good for right?”

Things didn’t end the best with Cane as to be expected when Solay told him what she planned on doing. Which included putting the house on the market, packing up half of her things, having some of it shipped out, leaving a small portion to sell with the house, discussing the way her business would be ran in Idil’s hands abruptly, and most importantly leaving Cane behind. She learned all about him showing up to Angel’s house with his little brother Dru, threatening him to stay away from Solay and to see how they can get in on Ez’s supply of heroin to move a percentage of the product in New York. Cane heard about the new president from word of mouth on the streets but he was the first to actually take the trip and do something about it.

Solay came into sight and he got a little distracted but when cane learned her background, he was close enough to get that connect but he also found fun in getting on Angel’s nerves. Which left Solay to question if any of it was real, she was tired of men taking for her weak when she opened up her heart to them which is why she was a little emotionally cut off—so she thought but she was always passionate or sensitive—depends who you ask.

“What do you want?”

Cane huffed, “how you know I ain’t just supporting a black owned business? What if I want to keep my skin looking like a Hershey’s kiss?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Yeah but you had enough time to fuck off with Antonio banderas and kick me to the curb though.”

“You sound pressed.”

“Nah, I handle shit.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Solay’s eyes were in slits now, “you know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t want anything else to do with your bullshit.”

“Why not? We had a good time together don’t you think?”

“I’d Rather not reminisce about the past.”

“See, I find that hard to believe. You in that clay box ass house with a nobody raising his kids, one of those kids that’s a product of him not being loyal to you. Not loving you. Like you ain’t shit to him, he treated you like you were temporary. Which is something I would have never done to you but you’re too blinded by him for whatever reason. Sounds like you ran right back to the past because you’re scared of something real.”

Solay cackles as Cane voices his thoughts to her, like he just read her. “Scared, maybe? Real? That’s unlikely with you. You didn’t step into what we had as a forever type of thing, it was all lies on your part too. All the red flags were right in front of my face and I don’t know how you don’t get that you’re no better, Cane. I know one things for sure, I wasn’t ever afraid to lose you, so stay the fuck off my line.”

With that she ended the call and only imagined he was probably screwing somebody in the shop now if he wasn’t running product through it. Idil couldn’t be that fooled or backstabbing right? She knew how cane operated and it’s been silent for two years now, not hearing from him and her accepting that most of it was probably not genuine was just Cane trying to get ahead.

Solay was over these men trying to get the best of her when she felt like didn’t deserve this. She was knocked off her path moving to Arizona but perhaps this was part of her healing. At least that’s one way she tried to look at it, putting boundaries up and vowing that she didn’t see being in a romantic relationship again with Angel Reyes. What she saw was: she needed to move on from all the hurt, find happiness behind the success and continue being a good mom to Xavier.

Solay was done with the drama.

“Soso, everything good?” Angel called from behind the door.

Solay had her eyes trained on Xavier, her hand resting on his coarse damp hair. She calls back out to Angel, “yup, all good. Hey, what do you think about taking the RV out for a ride a little later? Go sight seeing.”

“Fucken finally!” Angel cheered from behind the door while a small smile appeared on her lips, “I’m driving though.”

That’s right, Angel made the purchase of a RV for the hell of it last summer while Solay looked at it as a possible exit plan. Did Angel know that? No but she planned on telling him at some point. Did she need to jump ship just yet now that it’s been brought to her attention that cane was still keeping tabs on her? Maybe so but for now she just wanted to enjoy this holiday.

She’s on autopilot as she’s getting Xavier dressed into some lounge clothes that would be suitable for their outing later. After finishing twirling his coils, she sends him off to run to where Maverick and Angel are horsing around—easily joining in on their fun. Solay stands in the doorway, arms lightly folded as she watches them bond with each other, like a family should.

This time it felt like it was time to stop catering to everyone else’s needs always first yet that could be dangerous if you didn’t have balance but Solay was ready for something more. No one was going to get in the way of that, she vowed. She deserved to have genuine joy that didn’t end with her crying herself to sleep at night. That didn’t mean to find that in someone else because you’ll be dependent on that person always and that’s not something she wanted to do anymore, be dependent on anyone else for love, this she learned in therapy but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the company of a certain firefighter if she got out of her own way.

She should text Eddie back.

A lot can happen in two years and her attitude shifted being in the same space as Angel again. It wasn’t necessarily intentional in the beginning it’s just that it was always something with him. Now it didn’t feel like she was simply tolerating him anymore, no it wasn’t all sparkles and sunshine either in this present time but the bad moods stopped being constant. Solay’s mind was always on the move and being someplace else away from her main family, gave her the chance to really sit with her emotions and that brought up a lot some days.

She had to learn that her life wasn’t some play in a dream land or that she was out in the audience watching, like this was euphoria or anything along those lines.

This was actually her life and as she watched a tatted shirtless Angel settle into his newfound life with his boys, warm smiles and head thrown back while he silently laughed as he interacted with both boys in harmony, Solay let a smile of her own split onto her face.

It’s after 3PM when the family of four make their way out into the Arizonan heat that’s good at sending people to do a quick face plant. Solay’s checked the weather every hour before they deemed that now was a good time to go out, the temperature only went down four degrees which absolutely didn’t feel like much as she held Maverick’s little hand and Angel led the way while Xavier ran from his side and up ahead.

Forgetting something in the house, she tells Angel as he’s standing at the dining table inside the cool RV while the boys sit side by side.

“C’mon so!” Angel groaned, “We’re just going on a thirty minute drive and coming straight back, you tryin’ to take the whole house?”

Solay raises a finger in the air as she’s going down the steps, “better to be prepared than not to be if we get stranded.”

“Don’t put that kinda energy out there, cariño.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You’re starting to sound like your mother.”

“Run that by me again?”

“Nothing. Go head.” Angel fanned his ring covered hand at the arched brow Solay sent his way.

He then snickered down at the boys who watched their interaction as he spoke and signed, “Joking,” to Xavier and Maverick.

The heat blew across her skin as she peered down at her phone, house keys swinging on her finger until she stopped in her tracks, looking up and over at the two young figures standing before her.

“You must be Tariq and…”

“Oh, I’m Brayden!” The blond boy on his right beamed with a hand pressed to his chest in greeting, making the taller of the two cut his eyes at him.

Brayden shrugged innocently at the look Tariq sent him while Solay let out a sigh and placed her phone into the back pocket of her Jean skirt.

“You don’t seem surprised to see us.” Tariq noted while Solay held out her hands.

“Not really, when you get older it’s always something. So…what’s the plan here boys?” Solay moved her hand to press against her forehead, blocking out the scorching sunrays.

The two share a look with each other while Solay awaited for them to spit it out. They were here for a reason and Solay was open to hearing them out since they came all this way after all but it’s not like she wanted to be wrapped up in their bullshit either.

They just met and she really owed them nothing.

“Do you know a Don? Don Carter.” Tariq starts and he picks up on the expression on Solay’s face.

She doesn’t say anything but Tariq picked up the expression on her face much faster than Brayden could register it.

“He’s this detective who’s wife got killed years ago and he was never able to solve the case. We have proof that shows Cane pulled the trigger that killed her and we need your help to get him out the way or else our asses are done for.” Brayden added.

Solay answered, “Detective Don Carter is my cousin.”

“I knew it.” Tariq smiled as if this solved his problem, “if we hand him the truth and you lure Cane back here, we can either take him out or Don can do whatever he needs to: throw his ass in jail or take him out himself. Whoever gets to him first besides you.”

Brayden brushed off his shoulders before the teens gave each other dap, “Yeah, team work baby!”

Solay shushed them, making the smiles wipe right off their faces, “what makes you think I want to be involved with Cane again? I’ve moved on, whatever else he’s got going on doesn’t have a thing to do with me if you haven’t noticed.”

“That’s not true though,” Tariq frowned, “you know he’s obsessed with you more than he’s on my shit and that’s saying a lot. He’s gonna disrupt whatever you got going on until he wins.”

‘What exactly does he think he’s going to win?’ Solay thought to herself as she tilts her head to the side at the teen’s words, Tariq would know that side of Cane since that’s not the side she got to see but he did fool her before.

“So the plan is: you want me to trap him for your sake? Which again, doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Yours too. He did you dirty, right? Aren’t you sick of him because I sure am.” Brayden asks, making Solay cross her arms.

“That’s my cousin’s business not mine.” Solay almost sasses, “I’m on a clean slate this time, I’m just trying to be a mother and be a legal business owner, no more dealing with men that have bad shit attached to them. take that shit to Don and leave me out of it. I heard he moved out to New york.”

“Well…” Brayden sucks air between his teeth with a wince.

Tariq states, “we can’t go back to the city just yet.”

“Why not?”

“Cane’s stupid ass, the rest of the tejada’s, and Effie set me up that’s why!” Tariq was heated, rightfully so.

“I tried to take him out but I guess that wasn’t enough to be fatal,” Brayden is apologetic but Tariq just dips his head in thanks, a silent understanding passing between the two boys.

“Wait…you shot Cane? He just called—nope.” Solay begins walking by the boys, done with the conversation while shuffling her keys as she heads back to the house, kicking up dirt while she went.

The boys were pleading as they followed after the older woman but she was not trying to hear anymore.

“Hey!” Angel called out to the trio, making both Tariq and Brayden whip around to face the mustache wearing man who stood on the steps of the RV, shotgun aimed right in their direction.

“Shit, shit! Don’t shoot us man, we really come in peace!”

“Shut up, Brayden.”

“Angel,” Solay calls from the path of the doorway and gives him a shake of her head to tell him not to pull that trigger.

Solay takes her eyes off Angel and says to the boys, “wait here, preferably away from my ex-husband’s eyesight.”

“No problem! You got it!” Brayden disappears, hiding behind the southwest exterior while Tariq holds Angel’s stare who turns them into slits, “what’re you doing, riq? Didn’t you say he’s in a motorcycle club? those motherfuckers get rowdy.”

“Nah, he was. Then he disappeared. He might be our answer too.”

The door slams shut behind them, making the teens turn back to Solay who’s locking up the home while carrying what appears to be a trinket box. She meets their stare as she steps down onto the dirt and nods her head, “follow me.”

“Not if you’re gonna have that guy kill us!”

“Nobody’s dying,” Solay says over her shoulder as she leads the way back to Angel, “my kids are inside the RV.”

Brayden let’s out a whistle of relief as Solay steps up to Angel, reaching up to lower the gun down, her eyes saying something which gets him to put the safety on lock.

“This is Tariq and Brayden,” Solay let’s Angel know as they make their way into the RV, making the man let out a groan of annoyance.

“Our kids are here and it’s a holiday, why are you two pulling up now?”

Tariq presses his elbows into his knees after taking a seat on the couch parallel to where the two kids sit, “To get rid of your remaining problem: Cane Tejada.”

“Oh…the fucken bed bug.” Angel rubs at his face in irritation while Brayden snorts at the insult.

Solay cut her eyes at him, motioning to their kids, leaving the man to hold his hands up in surrender and then sticks his tongue out at Maverick who looks his way. Solay places the headphones onto the toddler’s ears and gently rubs Xavier’s shoulders, although he’s too involved in his tablet to care about the new guests.

Tariq and Brayden give the same rundown they just gave Solay and Angel listens carefully. He rubs at his face in thought over this, on one instance this could go in their favor but on the other hand it could also go very wrong. It became knowledge to Angel that Cane was still keeping tabs on them and that didn’t sit right with him. This means they never knew what he would do or when he would do it, he was always unpredictable like that and the last thing Angel wanted was Cane messing up what he and Solay came so far to have together.

This was the first time Angel got to really start over and he knew from the beginning that Cane was not the one for Solay. Standing here now just proves that.

“We know a guy that can probably help you guys more than we can,” Angel says after a moment, his eyes meeting Solay’s as she nods her head also thinking the same thing.

Solay doesn’t say more as Angel moves to the driver seat, leaving her to tap and motion for Xavier to slide over before she reaches over to hold Maverick in the safety of her arms.

Brayden’s more antsy than Tariq is, who seems to have this calm but cautious demeanor analyzing everything around them just in case they needed to flee from the RV. His guard was secretly up but he did his research, he found out what Cane’s plan was coming out to California but wouldn’t realize how this would backfire on him.

Tariq didn’t care to know the full details on Cane’s fraudulent relationship with the braided woman but he could see the appeal in Solay. With the way she moved on her own, with Angel and interacted with the kids, there was power in her soothing aura. Tariq could tell that she was over it though and that she’s also been through some shit but if she wanted to fully dead the situation, she would even if that meant she didn’t have to get her hands dirty herself.

The drive from the desert into the Mountain View and ramps was not what Tariq was really used to on a daily but the ride was long enough. Angel’s soon pulling up on the side of the road before shutting the engine off.

“We’re here,” Angel says through the rear view mirror before unbuckling his seatbelt.

Solay looks in his direction before turning to the two boys, “before you ask, there’s a pay phone up ahead and you’re going to take this number and let him know that Majesty and Sunny sent you.”

Tariq takes the slip of paper from Solay who rocks Maverick on her lap, “How do we know you’re not setting us up?”

“You don’t.” Angel calls out while Solay blinks.

She shrugs, “that’s not the life we live anymore but if it’s to get the bad off our backs…hopefully this will be worth it.”

“Are you sure this guy will help us?”

“His ass is always into something despite the fact that he should be dead with the rest but I know he’s been itching to get into it. To get his hands on something again…he’s a dumbass just like you two.” Angel fills the two in while they share a look, unsure but knew they didn’t have much else to lose.

They didn’t have many on their side right now.

Solay chipped in as she rests her chin on top of Mavy’s dark hair, “And just like you used to be.”

“That’s before I became a dad.”

Solay hummed in disbelief.

“Alright before i became a better one!”

Tariq got to his feet now while the pair smiled at each other from across the vehicle, “aight thanks for looking out.”

“Sure…but promise me this will be the last time we see you.”

Brayden glanced at Tariq who stood by the stairs, “as long as this guy comes through.”

Solay tunes that response out.

“Uh wait, how do we know it’s him?” Brayden asks as Tariq heads towards the door but also pauses on the last step.

“…he goes by Guero.” Angel says as Tariq repeats the name with a nod of his head before pushing the door open.

Once both boys are off the RV and shut the door closed, Angel starts the engine again and pulls off leaving the boys behind to their own disarray.

Solay turns with one arm to pull Xavier to rest against her chest, her attention turning to the blur of trees lingering in the now partly cloudy sky, lost in the silence that she welcomes again while Angel briefly glances at the sight of her in the rear view, just wondering what’s going on inside of that head of her’s.

He hoped it was tranquility just like he was searching for within himself.

ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *

Continue along with my September anthology prompts here.

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rebelcthulhu · 2 years

Text

the fact that 11 was mentioned to eddie on multiple occasions and he never got to meet her is one of the many reasons the duff bros are going to hell tbh.

#like how you gonna build up girl with super powers #have my mama be like ahh shit she must be important #and then just never go anywhere with it #stupid mfs #eddie munson #11 #eddie munson x reader #steddie #eddissy #stranger things

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andvys · 11 months

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y/n 12 year’s old

snickers , cheese balls eggos and dr pepper , seems like a pretty good meal. right?

wrong. not when you were technically gold for the “bad men” looking for you. grabbing your sisters hand you run run run until you run out of breath and until your legs are tired , “seven we cant keep running i am tired” eleven stresses while looking over her shoulder afraid that whatever was coming for you was even remotely close. “eleven please just five more minutes” five six seven hell even 10 minutes go by when you find yourself in front of a trailer park.

“its dark outside no one should be out maybe we can just sit on that table until its bright , you can try to get some sleep” “no seven you cant stay up alone” “eleven i am perfectly capable of doing so” shes asleep not even a minute after you said that , always being stubborn and never winning. “ouch shit fuck jesus h christ” a falling stumbling stranger comes out his trailer, not alone but with a guy whos harming him he’s crying , he looks scared even more so than you are , you’re not sure but you can sense that the man is hurting him , all thankful for you powers you want to step in , they havent noticed you and eleven yet , that being a good sign maybe your safe. til he spots you. you didn’t realize you had been walking towards the scene but somehow you’re right in front of the boy & who you assume is a bad man.

“let him go” you say. “oh ho ho , ed who is this ? you know her? she a friend from school” the man presses “no dad please just let me go” ed says “no not after what you just did and saw son , no i will not let you go and now your little friend here has to watch while i beat you black and blue” “no daddy please i wont say anything please i wont dad please , girl please go home dont tell anyone you saw this please i dont want him to hurt me” the boy says.

you take one step forward shooting a hand out and resting it on the mans forehead “no , let him go”. he stops , everything hes doing he takes two steps back from the boy and stand there blank faced. “go!” you yell thrusting your arms up. hes lifting high high high up , you throw him.

the man gets up running towards you “how did you do that little witch what the fuck was that im killing both of you , when hes a step in front of you , you once again place a hand on his forehead “go inside , forget this ever happened , ed didn’t see anything” steps taken back he disappears into his trailer away from you and the boy.

all you see is red. trails of blood falling from your nose , you reach up to wipe , your hands are covered “oh no” the boy catches you as you fall

POWERED READER UNIVERSE ??? not a writer but an idea ? 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🥹🥹🥹

I love this so much 😭 little eddie and reader meeting each other when they’re younger and he suddenly has a cool friend with superpowers? i love that idea so much! you actually make me wanna write it 🤭

reader should kick eddie’s dad’s ass

#andy’s asks #tw mentions of abuse #eddie x powered!reader #fic ideas

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ghost-proofbaby · 11 months

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Can I request Back to December with Eddie?! and if you could make it kind of angsty 🫣🥹

back to december (eddie's version)

warnings: angsty. very, very angsty. hurt/no comfort.

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: fuck it we ball. i have nothing to say about this one. if it's trash, that's between me and god.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie.

Maybe it was due to his upbringing, maybe he was another victim of circumstance, but love and him had always had a complicated relationship. It had left him scorned usually, a long line of failed situationships that trail behind him like ghosts of his pasts. Times he let bury themselves, relationships he’d get involved in knowing he’d never achieve the kind of love he’d seen in books and movies. Other people would talk about their small town romances, and he would only think of all the one night stands he’d subjected himself in which tore off a piece of himself every time he’d depart. He was the type of person to be used, to be drained of what fun the other participant could suck him dry of and then discarded for the next one. He wasn’t relationship material – he wasn’t love material.

Until you. And how unexpected you had been.

You, who was suddenly sitting in front of him in a coffee shop, hunched over your laptop and no doubt working on finishing up classwork for that degree you’d always talked about getting with him. You, who had been the exact opposite of someone Eddie would have ever anticipated falling for. You, who had never looked at him as something to use and to discard, but to have and to hold. You, the one (and possibly only) exception to everything he thought he knew.

You’re just as stunning as you had been on late summer afternoons in the passenger seat of his van. Same messy hair, same glowing eyes, same jestering lilt to your lips that seemed ever present even in the most serious of situations. Even with brows furrowed and new stress lines in your forehead, a slight pucker of your lips at whatever was on the screen in front of you and accentuated eyebags that hadn’t been there in your past life but now exist in the here and now, most likely a symptom of the long hours you’d always been willing to put in for the things you wanted – you still took his breath away, even now.

The first time you’d ever spoken to Eddie, he had considered it a cruel joke. You were beautiful, someone who entered the room and everyone just knew you were the smartest person there. Teachers loved you, others at the very least tolerated you if not admired you. It prodded at every insecurity he’d already harbored. All his fears of not being good enough, of being judged for his repeating years, of forever being doomed to be worn as a mark of shame rather than a badge of pride had been put in front of him with a pretty bow on top. You were something to show off. You were something good. But those wide eyes that had slowly pulled him in, had broken down all his defenses. He’d never stood a chance.

“Eddie?”

It’s not your voice, but that of the barista sitting down his order on the pickup counter. But his name still tears you from your concentration, and when you pale at the sight of him, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he had been staring.

They have to call out his name a second time before he moves to grab the coffee, turning his back on you just as he had all those ages ago. His fight or flight kicks in; he doesn’t know whether it would be better to leave it as it is and hurry out of this coffeeshop with his tail between his legs, or if for once in his life, it was worth leaning into the discomfort. Instead of running from that crackling in his chest and all the hurt flooding him the same as that final time he’d seen you, maybe he should take a deep breath and dive right in.

Would you even recognize him as he recognized you? Would your soul see his as if for the first time all over again, and sadly smile with a whisper of, oh. There you are, again?

Or would you pretend to be strangers again? Would you pretend like all the history had faded to smoke and he was just some guy you’d bumped into at a cafe? Would you give him the honor of wiping his slate clean and just starting over, as if he’d never hurt you?

He had been an idiot when it came to you. A loser who had been handed a gift on a silver platter, and instead of cherishing it until the end of time, he’d ruined it. Ruined you.

The decision is made long before his palm wraps around the overly warm cup, and his feet carry him to your table before doubt would wrap its chords around his throat.

His chest flutters just like it had in the autumn when he’d first realized that how he felt for you was different. As the leaves of Hawkins had changed color, so had his feelings, turning their own brilliant and vibrant shades between him draping his leather jacket across your shoulders and the gentle kisses you’d wake him with before the sun even rose. Quiet and private moments between just the two of you that Hawkins had never bore witness to. Hazy afternoons spent under the guise of tutoring him in subjects like math and science bled into dinner dates at Benny’s, sharing milkshakes and him teaching you how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

He had loved you. He still loves you. And he’d been a fool, because it had never occurred to him that during those Autumnal months, more than just the leaves or just him had been falling.

Even the warmth of all your love that he had been blind to wasn’t enough to stave off the chill that had crept in by that December. Winter was cruel. You’d both learned that the hard way. One bad argument, one stormy night, and it had all fallen apart. He’d lost you — he’d lost that ray of sunshine in his life, the one thing that should have kept him warm through icey December nights. All over something that had started off over a disagreement of future plans and unraveled into an argument over differences.

His voice cracks as he stands before you, eyes wide as he says, “Hey.”

When you look back up at him this way, it’s hard to believe that he never saw it. That love, swirling with endless depth. That quiet but firm matter of fact that you loved him, and a piece of you if not all of you always would, even after he’d shattered your heart on the ground carelessly.

“Hi,” your voice is meek. Even after nearly a year, all it took was him being here, and you felt the person you’d worked so hard to build from scratch fall right apart, exposing all your old wounds and still-sensitive nerves. Before Eddie, you’d always seemed so sure of yourself.

He should walk away. He should leave you be. He should just live with what he’d done, the damage he’d inflicted, and let you continue to heal.

He can’t. “Is this seat taken?”

You hesitate as you stare at the chair that his hand lands on the back of, and he doesn’t blame you. He isn’t sure he’d let him take that seat either.

“No,” you answer honestly, clearly against your better judgment, “It’s… open.”

There were a million other seats he could have taken. A plethora of empty tables he could have chosen over your currently occupied one. Hell, he could have even just walked out of there and let your soul rest. But for the life of him, he couldn’t. Because you’re here, and you’re only staring at him rather than cursing him with every foul name under the sun like he deserves, and all of the rotten parts inside of him are clawing out for your kindness. Like a child desperate for comfort, like a wounded animal taking shelter.

He takes that seat wordlessly, and watches you slowly shift your laptop out from in between you two.

You clear your throat first, offering that first olive branch, “How’ve you been?”

He almost wants to wave your question off. He’s been giving a rare opportunity and almost can’t stomach the thought of wasting it on small talk.

“Good,” he forces the answer out, “We, uh- we got picked up as openers for a tour this summer.”

We as in the band. The thing he’d put above you. He just might regret that decision for the rest of his days.

You’d had a college plan. He’d had a drop out plan. But you had still tried to fight tooth and nail for him; you'd given up a fraction of your reputation for him, a side effect of being associated with the freak, and you hadn’t even blinked an eye. It had been the bare minimum, at least in your eyes, but to him it had been a sign that he was nothing but poison for you. It went further than just the fact that you had your shit together and he didn’t. Once the first weak spot had his attention, all the fragile delicacies that your relationship hung on by did. He stopped ‘studying’ with you at Benny’s, choosing Hellfire Club over you. He always forgot to congratulate you on your accomplishments, whereas you never missed a beat in recognizing his. It was always him taking, taking, taking. He had watched you give, endlessly, over and over, and convinced himself that one day, he’d bleed you dry. He convinced yourself it was better to break your heart than to drain you for all that you were worth. He’d never considered your perspective of it all.

“That’s amazing,” you should be scathing, hurt and angry to have to hear about how the very thing he’d broken your heart over was working out for him. But you aren’t, and you both know you never could be; you were happy for him and still cheering him on, even after all the damage done between you two, “What’s the band you’re opening for?”

Stiff, cool small talk continues. Talk of this band that had so graciously taken Corroded Coffin under their wing. Discussions of the weather. Comments on the college you’d been accepted into, and confirmation you had been working on class work when he’d found you. You had a full ride. He tries to remember all the times you’d discussed your specific accomplishments that would award that, if you’d ever bragged about your GPA to him or any of the extracurricular activities you’d taken part in for a shiny bit on your applications. But he can’t recall them; maybe he had just gotten too jealous at the time, or maybe you’d been aware of the hurt it would have caused him and avoided the bragging rights. (It was the latter. God, he knows it’s the latter, but it hurts to admit it).

It’s painful. So, so utterly and terribly uncomfortable. He once knew everything about you. The mundane things like your favorite song to belt out with the windows down, and the remarkable things like how it felt to feel your heartbeat pressed to his while his bedroom window was open on frigid November nights. He’ll never know that feeling again. He’ll never feel your breath sync with his, and he’ll never get the chance to not take for granted that serenity you’d always offered with open palms in his direction.

When the conversation dwindles and the coffee goes lukewarm, he knows it has to end. He’d replayed this scenario a million times — rehearsed his apologies and tormented himself with endings where you took him back. You’d forget the past and drop your guard as you welcomed him back into your arms. The night he should have vocalized his fears of dragging you down with him but instead claimed you were holding him back would be erased. His pride would become a caged animal who had spent enough time roaming free and wreaking havoc on the best things in his life. Everything would go back to the way it was. Everything would be okay again. In his mind, that’s how this should have gone.

It didn’t. But he could still offer at least one piece of his dress rehearsals to you, leave at least one bandage behind for the trouble he’s caused.

“I’m sorry, you know,” he stumbles out, and it’s not nearly as smooth as all the words he’d repeated to the mirror, “I’m sorry for the way things ended.”

You’d loved him. Really, really loved him. And he’d taken it for granted, he had used it and discarded it for all it had been worth.

He’d always known you were smart. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, even if that love still burrowed in the channel of your heart frozen in time, forever cursed to a loop of the December night he’d chosen to chew you up and spit you back out.

“Don’t be,” you smile sadly, and he sees the glimpse of the you that still loves him, that still wants the best for him. The piece of you that will always treat him better than he deserves, “We got everything we wanted, right? It all worked out in the end.”

“Right.”

His tongue is dry, almost swollen, heavy in his throat.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that no, he didn’t get everything he wanted. None of it worked out in the end. Because at the end of the day, he finds that the only thing he really wants is you, and he will never have you again. You had treated him so well, had been so damn good to and for him, and he hadn’t known what to do with himself. Some foolish part of him still believes that with the knowledge he finally holds now, he could treat you better — treat you right. But he can’t. He’ll never even get the chance. He’ll never even deserve the chance.

An exchange of goodbyes. A final glance. An acceptance that even if he locked away his pride now, it had already dug its claws into you, and the scars would always remain.

He leaves more unspoken words in that coffee shop, at that table with you and your cold latte, than he can count. You both promise to reach out to each other more often, but you both know it won’t happen.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He never does these days.

Repentance churns his chest, a familiar friend, and demands to be felt until he can see the sun begin to rise through the curtains of his hotel room. He swears he feels the ghost of gentle lips kissing his cheeks, whispering to come to bed, but it might just be the wind.

There may only be a small piece of you frozen to that night and all your time together, and you may still have a possibility of thawing from the cold that he left you out in, but there is no such luxury for Eddie. He’ll always be there. Repeating words he doesn’t mean, watching tears well in your eyes as he destroys everything he’d ever wished for, setting aflame the one thing he could have done right in his life.

He writes another song about it, ignores the tear stains on the paper and adds it to the collection of all the ones that came before it.

Across the city, your pillow matches the sheet of lyrics. Tears shed that Eddie would never be able to recognize through his own smoke and ash.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. Regret, on the other hand, always would — always, for as long as you exist somewhere out there, frozen in December.

“And I think about summer, all the beautiful times when I watched you laughing from the passenger side – and realized I loved you in the fall.”

#speak now (ghost's version)#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #the power it took to resist adding any more lore than what i did #this is one of my top songs on the album fuck #no one understands how badly i wanted to add a flashback to those summer times and then the mention of fall #that's one of those lines that makes my heart ache when i hear it every single time #you know what? loosely based on real events #being told i was 'too good' and 'too smart' for someone and that's why they broke my heart really has happened to me #like cool i don't really understand but cool #ANYWAYSSSS

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