#get back to work allison!

[trauma-insence]

most universities and colleges have an RA or security for their dorm halls and I wanna know what the foxes RA thought. how often did they see or hear what was happening and choose to say they weren’t in the building bc they didn’t wanna deal with it. how many times did they go past security desks clearly intoxicated and the person at the desk just decided to turn a blind eye. when did authority figures decide to give up enforcing the rules for the foxes because they’re always dealing with a million different things

#i’m doing security tonight and conveniently am not at the desk when things happen #sorry i was making my rounds #that passed out girl was gone by the time i got back ig #no there’s no one passed out in the bathroom #if you’re paying students less than minimum wage to work overnight shifts you get less than the bare minimum of work #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #aftg fandom #aftg shitpost #aftg andrew #aftg neil #aftg trilogy #aftg headcanon #danielle wilds #dan wilds #matt boyd #nicky hemmick #allison reynolds #renee walker #aaron minyard

[tvckerwash]

was randomly reminded of an old hc I had where allison is still alive because she's one of the marines serving on the spirit of fire

#the math does NOT work for this hc as allison died in 2528 (most likely during the harvest campaign) but its still a fun hc #the sof finally gets to unsc controlled space and allison is so excited to see her husband and child only for her to learn they're both dead #oh and her husband was a war criminal #allison: i was only presumed dead after being stranded in space for 40 years wth happened??? #rvb #red vs blue #allison church #mine #queue allison going on a quest across the galaxy to track down the few remaining pfl personnel that exist (the reds and blues) in order to #figure out wtf happened after being lost in space and surprise! it turns out not all of her family is dead #oooooh adding in my carwash half sibs hc and surprise! her daughter AND her son are both still kicking #wash getting to meet the mother he never met and carolina getting to meet the woman she never knew #she is not a memory brought back from the dead she is not a shadow forever haunted by failure—or maybe she is #allison is as much of a ghost as they are. a woman haunted by the passage of time and the actions her 'death' spurred

[on-a-sunbeam]

So please correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think Alias ever really talked about how awful the whole doubling process would be? Like, the actual process itself would probably be pretty painful, sure, but remember going through puberty and having your body adjust to all that? Except this time your entire DNA is being changed. But not your brain, apparently. (WHICH, while I'm rambling, according to this report, you 100% can identify different brains from each other. In Alias, however, they say you can only tell if someone's a double through their eyes, which means that the person's actual brain is also changed, so I guess Alias just casually tried to tell us that souls or something of that ilk do, in fact, exist, and then never mentioned that again)

Which puts us in a very unique position! Because your brain's shape is now different, it's literal dna is different, and that does affect you as a person, except no?? It doesn't effect the doubles? As far as we see they're the same person. Ignoring the way more fun option of this does effect the doubles and maybe they start to show traits that the original had which would've been SO much fun but whatever, let's just say that your brain shape/makeup doesn't matter. Everything you do, everything that makes you you comes from something else. Your soul, your spirit, Rambaldi controlling you like a video game character, whatever.

This would make being a double really, really suck. Because your consciousness just got poured into this new body, essentially, which means that you have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW TO USE IT. The proportions are just wrong, first of all. Maybe the original's legs are a little longer. Now you have to walk up a flight of stairs, and not only are their legs longer, maybe they're a little thicker. Maybe they have a bad knee that you never knew about. Maybe they work out a lot and their legs are way stronger than yours were. Even if you guys were exactly the same height and lived exactly the same way, you would still have fundamentally different legs.

But for the sake of argument let's give them the benefit of the doubt and say okay, so maybe you still have your soul/consciousness/whatever, but that just contains your memory and personality and what not. All of the physical aspects are controlled by your brain, which should be suited to your body either way because that's how the process works. (Disclaimer: I am not a scientist and have no idea what I'm talking about) Okay, fine. That's fair. Except...even if your brain can move your legs perfectly, wouldn't it still be terrifying to remember that this isn't how they normally move? Your body might be perfectly functional, but your mind still wouldn't be used to functioning it.

(And this is all very sudden, too! I mentioned puberty earlier, but that is something that a) still takes place in your own body, with your own brain. It's hormones changing, not DNA. And b) might come faster for some people, but you know, generally takes a little longer than a couple-hour long surgery)

Also if we were to go that route, what would happen if the original person say, had some mental condition? That's a brain thing, not a soul thing. Your physical brain is now the same as theirs, so would you inherit that too?

In conclusion: local idiot rambles about how Allison should've misjudged a step and fallen down a flight of stairs and gotten adhd from Francie.

#i um. don't know that any of this is coherent. #i just think about it sometimes #alias #but sometimes i want SO BADLY to see allison do something and go ??? #and then be just absolutely terrified when she realizes that hey this is something francie used to do #just!! losing your sense of self but it's STILL YOU!! #and other people say ah yes. this is right. this is how it ought to be #and i get it. i know that irina was having her do a job #but sometimes it's just like oh wait no this is literally the trans experience (tm) #you're just living your life comfortably until something or someone says no. you have to change (in this case irina) #and you do not get a choice!! so you do #and it's still YOU. but you look different and it's wrong and IS it? #and it can be terrifying! #and some people will say no this is right and some people will agree with you and say this isn't right actually let's get you back #but see that's the thing also you can't ACTUALLY go back. you can go forward sure you can go towards something else #but if you're trans you can never go back to how you were as a kid! that's not how that works you HAVE to go forward! #but allison is so tragic bcos she never gets to go forward either! she's stuck looking like that until she dies! #I JUST. #anyways. my incoherent rambling is over. (for now)

[wolfblood-of-anubis]

Alfie: We shouldn't have come! I knew it, we shouldn't have come.

Eddie: We had to! There's safety in numbers.

Alfie: Well, there's also death in numbers, Eddie— it's called a massacre!

#source: teen wolf #i just realized eddie as scott and alfie as stiles would make a killer teen wolf au #especially if we combine fabian and alfie into one person so we get the humor the alfie smarts and the book smarts #amber is lydia; possible a combo of amber and mara #patricia is derek hale lol #rufus can be peter hale; the one who keeps dying and showing back up #kt is allison; they both had familial secrets or important ancestors to uncover #besides in this version eddie and kt did dare but they broke it off just like scallison #and then kt starts dating girls and eddie starts to realize he likes trixie #its a peddie slow burn basically #is patricia also malia? lol she’s most hale members #and then i guess mick could be jackson? bobby lockwood already has werewolf acting experience; how hard is lizard experience? #and jerome works as isaac! #wait then whom the fuck is joy then #house of anubis #sibuna #teen wolf #hoa #alfie lewis #eddie miller #fabian rutter #nina martin #joy mercer #jerome clarke #patricia williamson #kt rush #wait…should joy be lydia instead? she too is very smart and well known and then heavily traumatized #hmmmm

[number5theboy]

the love for s1e5 i'm seeing on my dash is so lovely, because that episode is not really something special. it doesn't have any of the truly blockbusting iconic tua moments (except for like. maybe one meme moment, but that one got outdone by s2). what it does have going for itself is some of the, if not the, best writing in the entire show. it fleshes out so many characters and adds depth to a plethora of them. it's almost entirely a character-driven, character-exploration episode and seeing so many people express their love for it really makes me happy

#it's just. it really is so good. #there is so much dialogue in this one specifically that is burnt into my brain #it's our introduction to the handler back when she served an interesting purpose in the story #it is the first and last time diego and klaus really get explored as a duo #allison and viktor AND viktor and leonard are both incredibly interesting dynamics in this #it adds depth to luther and his time on the moon (which then went swiftly ignored by the fandom <3) #it works phenomenally as a midseason episode #and it doesn't just add depth it adds a chasm to five #the kid really really shines in this episode #he has such a quietness about him in scenes that are about the dialogue god i love this performance #anyway this was my impromptu love letter to s1e5 'number five' #personal

[thehargreevesfam]

I’m so excited for Allison’s arc this season but also…I wonder. How could she possibly get her daughter back? How? Isn’t her daughter’s disappearance as a result of time travel shenanigans? How could she do this?

I fear Allison may be going on a journey that doesn’t lead anywhere and it’s going to be devastating for her. I also fear it may not be something she can come back from…

#like. I’m afraid she’s going to do so much to get her daughter back and she’s not going to succeed #maybe she speaks her daughter into existence?? #maybe she works with five?? #sigh. #four days four days four days four days four days four - #tua s3 spoilers #allison hargreeves

[swallowedabug]

Hudson & Rex 1.07 (2019)

#hudson and rex #hudson & rex #sarah truong #mayko nguyen #maykonguyenedit #allison daniels #vinessa antoine #my edits #my gif #everytime this show introduces A Friend of Sarah's 👀🔍 #bisexual activity #too bad they just put her gal pals in mortal danger and then never bother to bring them back again #i for one would love to hear more from jan and her work with dangerous viruses #and i bet so would sarah #edit: i keep saying jan when i mean allison??? #that's what i get for posting these sets and looking up names from imdb when i'm too tired #i did wonder why the actress had been listed in more than one ep... 🤦‍♂️

[toamonster]

The umberella academy S3

I’m happy that the Hargreeves siblings finally got a good ending  (U‿‿U) ♡

But also: 

#I AM VERY CONFUSED #!!! BTW- SPOILERS IN THE TAGS !!! #like- I'm completely fine that they lost their powers if this is 'the end' of the umbrella academy story #but is this the end of the umbrella academy story??? #why did allison get both her child and her husband in the end #but Luther didn't get to keep his wife??? #and Victor didn't get to be with Sissy and Harlan??? #and why is Hargreeves still alive and seems to be owning everything in the city??? was it always like that?? #(him having his wife back is actually the one thing that doesn't confuse me- that was his aim all along) #what was up with Ben??? #If it was sparrow Ben who step out of the elevator why did he get to 'come back' but not Sloane??? #what was up with the Ben on the train??? #I'm guessing that's 'OG' Ben who maybe doesn't know them #why show that? #are there 2 bens now??? #what are any of the siblings going to be doing now??? #they don't have powers and who knows if they could actually be working a normal job? #they don't have a penny to their names- what are they gonna do??? #is their parents/moms alive now??? #do they know them? #do they have families outside of the academy now??? #have they even existed in this new timeline??? do they have an identity or are they just going to have to make one up like in the 60's?? #or are they just left to figure things out on their own??? #what about the sparrow??? #are they alive??? #and what about stan? #Harlan? #CHRISTOPHER?!?! #I have so many questions and so little answers ಠ_ಠ #the umbrella academy

[colethewolf]

A Real, Legitimate Summary of the Teen Wolf Movie's Plot:

(I'm not joking, but you're going to think I am)

also, spoilers obviously...

Scott McCall works as a rescue dog saving victims from building collapses in LA

Mr. Harris, the long DEAD biology teacher for school somehow magically comes back from the dead and decides to get his revenge on Scott

Mr. Harris flies to Japan and robs a ramen shop that Liam & Fake-Kira Hikari own, because they decide to keep the nogitsune locked in a spice jar on a spice rack

The nogitsune brings Allison back to life, who has been dead for 15 years, and uses the oni to kidnap everybody to hold them hostage in a magic spirit realm located underneath the lacrosse field while scott & eli play a lacrosse game

The nogitsune's plan is to make the entire pack watch Allison shoot Scott in the heart and kill him, so that everybody will be sad and he can drink their sadness to become more powerful

Scott pretends to die, so the Nogitsune gets made and turns into a WEREWOLF-NOGITSUNE HYBRID MONSTER and attacks

The pack decides that the only way to kill the nogitsune (even tho the nogitsune was previously established to literally be unkillable) is to have Parrish hug him and set him on fire to death

For some reason, the werewolf-nogitsune hybrid monster won't stand still to die, so derek decides to literally SACRIFICE HIMSELF by holding down the werewolf-nogitusne and letting Parrish burn BOTH derek and the nogitsune to death

Derek literally burns himself to death right in front of eli and orphans him

Scott and Allison decide to adopt Eli and run a dog shelter in LA

The End.

(no, i'm not joking.....this actually happened. this was the movie. some of the worst fanfiction that I ever read watched in my life)

P.S the only good part of this really bad fanfic movie is that for the whole movie derek keeps saying that he hates stiles' jeep (and he doesn't explain why) and then at the end of the movie at derek's funeral, sheriff stilinski gives Eli the jeep and says that derek secretly didn't hate the jeep.

then he explains that after Stiles left it behind, Derek towed it back to his auto shop (because derek is a mechanic now btw????) and fixed up stiles' jeep literally so he could keep it for himself. and I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be some metaphor for derek not realizing he's in love with stiles until after stiles moves away and now all that he has left is the jeep????

so, canon!sterek yay!

#sterek #teen wolf #teen wolf movie spoilers #teen wolf spoilers #spoilers

[babygirl-riley]

His Girls

Simon had to go into work throughout the craziness of the Riley household he lost his plastic skull mask. Only to find his youngest chewing on it.

Warnings: PURE fluff, seriously dad!simon, swearing

A/N: I am OBESSESSED with dad!Simon and to FEED my addiction @ave661 just keep coming in clutch! Go subscribe their pateron! Just a small drabble for you all ❤️

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Simon was running around throwing on small amount of gear, only going to the base. He put his mask on and realized he missed placed his skull that was suppose to be with it. “Daddy,” His five year old cried. “I don’t wanna have you go.” She held his leg.

“Daddy has to,” You said as your pre teen followed you. She was rambling on how she wanted to go to the mall with her friends but couldn’t. “Millie enough.” You said behind you to his oldest.

“Dad.” Millie looked at him and he shook his head.

“Do what ya mum says.” He looked down at Allison and kneeled down. Millie scoffed and walked off. “I’m not gonna be long promise. We will go get ice cream.”

Allison pouted. “Okay.” She walked out before Simon turned to you.

“I can’t find my fucking mask,” He cursed ripping through everything. “I had it ‘ere now it’s gone.”

You nodded. “Have you checked between the drawers?”

Simon nodded walking out. “Dad! I promised Jackie that I would be there, now what do I do?”

Simon loved his kids he did but damn he didn’t expect having all girls would make his head spin. You even joked about how soon Millie will start her womanhood and then they were fucked. Simon jogged down the stairs looking in the kitchen. “Millie, your mum said no, you think I’m going to say yes after? Ya know not to make promises that you don’t know if you gonna keep.” He explained not looking at her.

Millie groaned. “Listen though everyone goes out with their friends to the malls at this time. Not later. Plus they all can’t go.”

Simon snapped his head up looking on the counter. “I thought it was just Jackie.” You said having his baby youngest in your arms. She was wrapped in her blanket as she set her down in the living room that we connected to the kitchen.

Tessa giggled as she looked up at the tv. Playing with something in her hands. Simon sighed irritated, time was running short, he was running behind, and his patience running thin. Millie and you were arguing back and forth, as Allison came running down the stairs to watch tv. Simon inhaled deeply looking around again. “Your father agrees with me. I am done talking about this. You are not going, we have to be at Nana’s today.” You said putting your foot down.

Simon looked up and waited for Millie to respond. She just rolled her eyes and stomped off, you pressed fingers against your temples. “Alright Simon I am going to look in Allison’s room maybe she was playing with it.”

Simon nodded as he kept looking through and stood for a moment thinking where it could be. Trying to think where the fuck he put it. Nerves were high. He was getting anxious of being late. His thought started to swirl making his anger higher. Until he heard a small giggle.

Simon looked down to see Tessa on her back gnawing on something. Larger than her for sure. His eyes softened when they made eye contact, the blanket moving over to the side to see his mask. He inhaled with relief as he knelt down. “You bugger.” He whispered ripping his balaclava off.

Tessa giggled, he always loves the sound of his girls laughing giggling. It made him miss and think of Millie when she was this young. Innocent. Naive. Hell Tessa even had the same outfit that Millie wore. When both of you kept having kids and they were girls, he couldn’t or wouldn’t let you get rid of this outfit. It was his favorite.

Simon sat Tessa up and turned her towards him. She stopped chewing on it but held onto it. Her way of rebelling of him leaving for the day. Simon chuckled and grabbed the top of it. “Daddy will be back sweet girl.”

Tessa just had her large brown eyes set on him. Simon looked at the features, seeing Tommy and his mom in them. Making him think of his nephew Joseph and how Millie and him could have been close. How you could have a friend with Tommy’s wife. He often thought about it when looking at his girls. Millie definitely was a slit image of you though, personality to features.

Allison would just attach whenever she wanted to, independent like him. Tessa though was definitely daddy’s girl, anytime he would walk into a room she would know. Hell when you were pregnant with her she would move when hearing his voice. When he forgot to take the mask off she giggled and reach for it. Anytime he came home she was thrilled, screeching and giving sign to pick her up.

Tessa giggled as she reached for his thumb grabbing it. These moments he loved, the small gestures. The smiles. Giggles. It made him have that stir inside, the one that wants him to have another baby. His girls were his angels, so why not have more? More of these innocent kids that he made. His pride and joys. He didn’t want to go, he rather be here, with his girls. Go get ice cream now. Simon sighed as he looked up the stairs to make sure Millie wasn’t standing there so he could go say a proper goodbye for the day.

Allison came next to Simon as she hugged his thigh and looked at Tessa. “Daddy said we can get ice cream Tess! Sooner he leaves the sooner we get ice cream!”

Simon smiled down at her, he thought how smart she was becoming. Her sentences making more sense. Allison was like him, truly. Short tempered. Emotional ball. At the same time though she was thick skinned, she could take a hit until she can’t take it. She was caring, always sharing even if she didn’t want to. Would try to make everything more lighter when things got tense. At 5 years old.

“Exactly,” He felt his plastic mask loosen up and he softly took it away. “I love you baby girls.” He said kissing both of their foreheads. “I’m gonna say bye to ya sister, watch Tess yeah?”

“Yes sir daddy!” Allison chimed as she started to gather Tess’s attention.

He looked down at the stairs watching Tessa giggle and squeal at her sister. Simon walked towards Millie’s room, hearing her soft rock play behind the door. He knocked softly as he heard the music turn down. “Who is it?” She said snarky.

“Dad.” He said softly, he heard the knob unlock, having him note of that being a potential problem. She walked to her desk, sitting in her chair looking away from him. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Like him, distant once he was angry. “Have fun at Nana’s.” He softly said walking to her to place a kiss on her head.

“Love you.” She mumbled looking over at him.

“Love ya too dovie. I’ll see ya after work.”

She nodded to his comment as he walked out to face you. You sighed smirking. “Of course daddy comes to save the day.”

Simon smirked as he walked up to you placing his hands on your hips. “She’ll come ‘round,” He whispers kissing your neck. “Want baby 4?”

You pushed him off, giggling. Your stomach swirling with excitement. “Oh no Tessa have you the swirl,” He kissed your neck again, mumbling a yes. “Oh stop it, you’re gonna be late. Get going.” You giggled pushing him gently off before kissing his cheek.

When you turned he slapped your ass. His favorite thing to look, touch, grab. You scoffed, shaking your head while chuckling. Heading down the stairs to the other two girls. Simon smiled as you watched the two play, his girls. His angels. And the thing was…He would never change a thing.

#Spotify #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #dad!simon ghost riley #dad!ghost #daddy!simon #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

[dvrcos]

Aaron may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew does but he has a damn good one and he can remember anything he puts even the smallest amount of effort into remembering.

After everything that happened in Baltimore Aaron starts to note every small possibly important (and unimportant) medical fact about the foxes. And he’s not even totally conscious he’s doing it.

He consciously remembers Andrew and Nicky’s blood types. He knows Nicky’s allergic to penicillin and he knows Andrew doesn’t react well to doctors so it’s best for everyone if he can be administered some kind of sedative right away.

And then he thinks he should probably know this stuff for Kevin, and begrudgingly Neil, because they’re part of his strange little family that Andrew’s created. So he quickly and easily finds this information on them (because he’s a Minyard and he just knows how to find the things he needs to know). So he knows their blood types and he knows Kevin still feels residual pain in his left hand but doesn’t show it and try’s to ignore it. He knows Neil heals annoyingly quick from his all too common injuries but he also knows he aggravates those injuries easily by pushing himself too soon.

But it doesn’t stop there, there’s a small itch in the back of his head driving him to find out the important medical facts about the rest of the foxes. So he allows himself to remember their blood types and allergens and tells himself he needs to know incase of an emergency.

But he also notices that Matt has a high tolerance to pain medication whenever he’s being treated by Abby for an injury during practice or a game. And he notes the one type that works for him and keeps multiple bottles on him and in their room. (It’s also the only type that works for Kevin and works best for Neil so he stocks their room with it too)

And he notices that Allison is a slight germaphobe and applies hand sanitizer anytime she has to touch a public door handle or they go out to eat. So he opens as many doors for her as he can despite the confused look he gives her every time and he just glares right back at her. He keeps an extra mini bottle of hand sanitizer in his backpack for her as well and silently passes it to her when she’s forgotten hers.

He notices Dans chronic knee and lower back pain that Abby is constantly treating and how there’s always a rotating rainbow of colorful KT Tape on her. So he keeps an eye on Abby’s stock of tape and when a color is running low he casually mentions it to her to order more and then walks away.

He notices how Renee always picks at the scabs on her knuckles that result from her sparring with Andrew. He figures the wraps she has are getting old and silently leaves a new pair on the counter the next time he’s in the girls dorm, along with a box of bandaids and a tube of antiseptic ointment. He leaves a matching set of supplies in Andrew’s dorm as well just to be safe.

He doesn’t consciously realize that what he’s doing is protecting and taking care of the Foxes. But the others catch on and smile fondly at him because he’s letting himself care for them and become part of their family.

And the one time Dan mentions what he’s doing for them he looks at her like she’s crazy. He tells himself, and her, that that’s not what he’s doing, he’s just a future doctor and someone needs to take care of these injury prone idiot athletes and no one else besides him and Abby are going to do it right.

Aaron would definitely be so observant and acutely aware of the Foxes physical well beings despite him insisting he doesn’t care and hates them all. But he basically becomes Abby’s right hand man and teams second nurse because it’s good practice for his future and he knows them.

#doctor Aaron Minyard #Aaron showing his care in strange ways is canon to me #he doesn’t trust anyone else to properly take care of them #but their endless list of medical issues is also going to be the death of him #aaron minyard #aftg #aftg aaron #all for the game #andrew minyard #kevin day #neil josten #renee walker #alison reynolds #matt boyd #dan wilds #nicky hemmick

[lovebugism]

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever. 

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems. 

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore. 

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you. 

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough.  You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against. 

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles). 

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into. 

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary. 

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you. 

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”  

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her. 

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips. 

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means. 

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you. 

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds. 

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about. 

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place. 

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right. 

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week. 

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now. 

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie. 

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you. 

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call. 

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.” 

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting. 

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer. 

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way. 

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye. 

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm. 

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing. 

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college. 

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs. 

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

 Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be. 

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching. 

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully. 

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease. 

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago. 

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need. 

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret. 

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure. 

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?” 

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading —  and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly. 

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious. 

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for. 

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry. 

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you. 

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him. 

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him. 

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so. 

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes. 

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you. 

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it. 

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats. 

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling. 

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day. 

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down. 

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone. 

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him. 

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold. 

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler. 

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock. 

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.” 

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time.  “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are. 

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were. 

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?” 

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so. 

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.” 

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost. 

But it’s happened before. 

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight. 

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise. 

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak. 

You want him. 

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Helloooo your recs give me life. You’ve probably done this before, but any recommendations for fics that include a brutally pining Derek and oblivious Stiles? Ideally canon-verse but aus are also loved. Thanks in advance!!

I'm sure I have, but I love pining in all fics. So I'm happy to make a million lists of it.

Fun by Halevetica

(1/1 I 3,889 I Teen)

Stiles convinces Derek to go to the annual Beacon Hills bonfire with him, with the promise of fun. What he gets instead are a lot of assumptions that he and Stiles are dating, and Stiles' too-eager dismissals, which are decidedly NOT fun for Derek.

Game On by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

Written in the Stars by Quixoticity

(6/6 I 26,586 I Mature)

Derek Hale is a lucky guy. He's got a great family, good friends, and a fulfilling job as a tattoo artist.

He's also one of the twenty-five per cent of the population born with a soul mark.

He likes his life, but he's waiting for his soul-match. The odds of meeting them aren't great but hey, Derek's a lucky guy. He has faith.

He can't believe how good his luck really is when one day his soul-match wanders right into his studio, all long limbs and copper eyes. There's just one problem: Stiles is there to get his soul mark covered up. Permanently.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell

(5/5 I 35,458 I Mature)

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

too busy being yours to fall for somebody new by whiry

(12/12 I 64,278 I Teen)

Stiles, worried that Scott may actually leave him behind because of his newfound popularity, is desperate to cling to something away from the drama of Lydia Martin's amazing parties and the woes of high school lacrosse. What he finds is Derek Hale, a guy who seemingly hates Stiles at first, but slowly, and insistently, becomes friends with him. As their friendship grows, Stiles starts to wonder if they could ever become something more or if pushing what they have will lead him to being alone for good.

All the Weird Kids (Know How to Take it Slow) by Ionaonie

(26/26 I 112,477 I General)

Stiles never thought being part of a werewolf Pack would end up being so normal. Even being around Derek had a degree of normality about it. Even if he was still an overbearing jerk most of the time.

When it all comes crumbling down by Littleredridinghunter

(18/18 I 216,191 I Not Rated)

Stiles is recovering from the Nogitsune. Erica is the only one that is really there for him, Scott's too busy rekindling his relationship with Allison and Stiles feels like he's falling apart.

When a near-miss with a kelpie results in an encounter that he could never have predicted, Stiles begins to think his life might be getting back on track.

He's wrong.

Stiles' life is so messed up he can't even begin to explain it, maybe it's time for him to finally do something for himself and get out of Beacon Hills. But where will that path lead?

With Stiles involved, no doubt danger and death won't be far behind.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #pining #pining!derek #oblivious!stiles #anon

[bellaxgiornata]

Neighbors [Chapter 2]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k

[Series Chapter List and Summary]

Warnings/tags: 18+; contains friends to lovers, violence, fluff, eventual smut, angst

a/n: Chapter two is finally up! I know many of you have been asking for it, so hopefully you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mycobrakai1972 @stilllivindue2spite @luvr-bunnyy @pone21  @sleepysleepymom @urlocalgeek @buckysvinyl @ragamuffin285 @lollulroofl @hazallem @hellooooooooooooooo @kezibear

Chin resting in your hand, you sat at a corner table by one of the large windows in Common Grounds skimming over the documents on your laptop. A half finished latte was on the table beside you–the second one you’d had since you opened the shop about an hour ago now. 

The deadline for filing taxes was just around the corner and here you were still needing to get everything finalized and officially sent in before it was considered late. Since Jaime had dropped Lily off at preschool this morning and you didn’t need to pick her up until the afternoon, you figured now was the best time to finish the frustrating and tedious task that you’d been repeatedly putting off. It wasn't often that you had free moments where you weren’t watching Lily or dealing with something at the coffee shop, so this morning while you were free you figured you’d try to finish working on it–even if you’d rather have been back home sleeping in before eventually making your way into the shop.

With your focus fixed on your laptop, you weren't remotely paying attention to whoever had walked in through the front door of Common Grounds, even if your ears had vaguely registered Allison’s usual friendly greeting from behind the counter while you worked. The typical morning rush at the coffee shop had ended about fifteen minutes ago and you’d long since stopped paying attention to every occasional straggler that passed through the door. 

Left hand absently sliding along the table to grab your honey lavender latte, you reread one of the lines on your laptop’s screen, trying to make sense of all the frustrating tax language. Drawing the mug up to your lips for another drink, you tried to focus on the section you were currently reading, but your concentration was easily interrupted by a familiar, deep voice suddenly ordering by the register.

“Just a large coffee, black.”

Almost automatically your eyes slid over the top of your laptop, landing on the sight of none other than your new neighbor, Frank. His back was facing you as he pulled his card out of his wallet before sliding it through the card reader and paying for his drink. He was wearing his dark jacket again this morning and a pair of dark wash jeans. His expression looked fairly neutral this time from what you could see from the profile of his face–he wasn't smiling but he didn't look nearly as surly as when you’d first seen him yesterday, either. 

Behind the counter, Allison sent him another friendly smile before turning around and beginning to make his coffee. As he slipped his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, your eyes followed the movement of his hands, admittedly lingering on a particular part of him for a moment longer than necessary as his hands returned to his sides. 

I wonder if he works out , you caught yourself thinking.

The memory of Frank crouching down to talk to your niece last night flashed through your mind as your gaze gradually slid its way up his back and towards his face again. You remembered the unexpected warm and friendly smile that had taken you by surprise when he’d accepted the cookies from Lily as you sat there. The memory of it began stirring up those confusing feelings inside of you once more. He certainly hadn’t turned out to be what you’d expected, at least after that second interaction you’d now had with him. You found yourself wondering if Cora was right, maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Maybe you'd just caught him in a bad mood yesterday morning.

You saw him begin to turn and make his way towards the end of the counter where customers picked up their orders and your eyes immediately darted back down to your laptop. Ducking your head, you pretended you were intensely focused on your laptop screen, desperately hoping he hadn’t caught you staring at him. You’d already embarrassed yourself enough with him thanks to Lily pointing out that you’d called him the grumpy man from the coffee shop, you didn’t need him to catch you ogling him next. That would certainly make things even more embarrassing and uncomfortable at this point.

“Are you always here?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you froze in your chair. Hand curling tighter around the handle of your coffee mug, you felt your body tense at the sound of his voice clearly directed at you. Considering how uninterested he’d been in small talk just yesterday morning, you figured he’d grab his coffee in silence and leave. You hadn’t anticipated that he’d actually try to strike up a conversation with you, especially with him having a clear out because you obviously looked preoccupied at the table. He could’ve easily just grabbed his drink and left, ignoring you entirely.

Slowly your eyes shifted over towards Frank. He was leaning against the coffee shop counter, one of his elbows resting along it as his head cocked just a bit to the side, his eyes slightly narrowed as he studied you. One corner of his mouth was curled up just a fraction in something almost like a smile as he waited for you to respond. Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore the frenzied beating of your heart at the sudden attention from him.

“Usually,” you answered. “Sort of comes with being the owner of the place.” 

Both of his dark brows rose marginally onto his forehead in something like surprise. You fought back the feeling of pride within you at his reaction. Though Frank quickly recovered, the look of surprise shifting into a smile that was almost as warm as the one you’d seen on his face last night when he was talking to Lily.

“Is that so?” he asked curiously. “You own this place?”

You shrugged lightly in response, your eyes catching sight of Allison’s head darting up from over his shoulder, staring at you from behind the counter. She was pouring the freshly brewed coffee for him into a to-go cup with a look of stunned disbelief on her face. 

“Nearest Starbucks is about twenty minutes from here,” you said, focusing back on Frank and trying to ignore Allison behind him as she began frantically mouthing things to you. “Besides grabbing a cup of coffee from one of the local fast food joints, there really aren’t many options around here. Figured the town could use a coffee shop, so I opened one.”

Frank nodded his head, his eyes still on you. They looked far more friendly than they had yesterday morning when he’d been sizing you up, that was for sure.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he replied. “Sorta the only place to go ‘round here for a good cup of coffee it seems.”

Unable to fight back a triumphant grin, it spread wide over your lips at his compliment. “Guess it just means you’re stuck with me while you’re here then,” you told him. When a brow curiously arched up onto his forehead at your comment, you quickly added on, “For coffee. Since there’s nowhere else to really grab a cup that doesn’t taste like burnt garbage in this town, I mean.”

Allison headed over to the counter with his cup of coffee in hand, setting it down onto the surface near where he was leaning. Her eyes were darting curiously back and forth between the pair of you now. 

Frank ducked his head, chuckling a little before he pushed off of the counter. “Guess your right,” he agreed. “Looks like we're both stuck with each other then.” 

He reached over, picking up his coffee from the counter while offering Allison a polite ‘thank you’ as he did. Her eyes grew wide when he’d turned back around to face you, her dumbstruck gaze focusing on his back. You had a feeling there were a plethora of questions already forming in her mind that you’d be hearing the moment he left. 

Frank nodded his head once towards you. “You have a good day now,” he said. “S’pose I’ll be seeing you again real soon, though.”

Something warm fluttered in your chest as he turned, making his way towards the coffee shop exit. As he walked, drawing his to-go cup up to his lips for a drink, your brain fumbled to form a coherent thought. You only briefly recovered just as he opened the door to the coffee shop.

“You too!” you called out.

He was out the door with a small grin on his mouth, turning and making his way down the sidewalk and away from your shop without a backwards glance. Your eyes followed the back of him as he went, your mind reeling at the emotional whiplash of interacting with him once more. He definitely wasn't what you'd initially expected and you had no idea what to make of that.

Allison’s fingers loudly snapping in front of your face broke you from your staring seconds later and you jumped in your chair. Eyes flying over towards her, you saw her standing beside your table.

“Spill,” she said immediately. “What the hell was that complete one-eighty about?”

“I–I don’t know,” you stammered, watching as Allison plopped into the chair across from you. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“Well something must have happened,” she pressed, “because yesterday morning that man was all moody and rude, now today he's actually striking up small talk? Flirting with you?”

Cheeks heating, you focused back on your cup of coffee. You picked it up, bringing it up to your lips as you shook your head. “He wasn’t flirting, Ally,” you told her. “I think he was just being friendly.”

“Uh huh,” she said, waving the idea off with a dismissive hand. “So you must’ve run into him again since yesterday morning with the way he was talking to you. What happened? I want details.”

Drinking down some of your coffee, your eyes darted back down towards your laptop. You really needed to finish your taxes, but you had a feeling Allison wouldn't stop asking questions until you answered her. Figuring it'd just be easier to tell her about last night and move on, you released a soft sigh.

“You know that duplex next to mine that's been vacant for awhile?” you asked, lowering the mug to the table. “The one Cora has been struggling to fill?”

Allison nodded. “Yes, I remember,” she answered. “She said the other day she found a tenant when she’d come in for a coffee.”

You pointed a finger out the shop's window in the direction which Frank had walked off in. Though he'd since disappeared now, having turned a corner or gotten into his truck.

“That was him,” you told her. 

Allison’s eyes grew wide as she audibly gasped. “What?” she asked in surprise. “ That beautiful man is your neighbor?”

Laughing lightly, you nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s just him. Lily was with me when Cora was telling me about him moving in the other day, so she'd had this idea to bake him cookies to welcome him to the neighborhood.”

“She’s always such a sweet kid,” Allison mused aloud. 

“Mhmm,” you agreed. “Thing is, she wanted to make cookies like we did for Valentine’s Day. You remember those?”

Allison burst into a laugh, throwing a hand over her mouth as she quickly tried to stifle the noise. She didn’t succeed and you couldn't resist grinning and laughing a little yourself at the memory of your own shock at who'd opened the door to receive those cookies. 

“You mean to tell me,” Allison began, still trying to quell her laughter, “that you dropped off pretty heart cookies to that guy yesterday?”

“Yep,” you told her, still grinning. “They were pink and covered in sprinkles. Lily even insisted on using one of those Valentine’s Day plates for them. So of course I had to bring her over to deliver them with me because there was no way in hell I was going to do that alone.”

A snort of amusement left Allison before she bit her lip, shaking her head. You couldn't help laughing a little more yourself.

“You should have seen my face when it was him that opened the door,” you continued. “I was certain he was going to be an asshole. Throw the cookies on the ground or belittle Lily and I. But he was…surprisingly friendly. Even took a few minutes to talk to Lily and thank her for them. I practically had to drag her away before she could volunteer us to bake him cinnamon rolls next.”

Allison’s smile grew even wider, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Sounds like someone is doing a little matchmaking,” she teased, shooting you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, glancing back down at your laptop. “She's four, Ally,” you pointed out. “She was just being friendly. Besides, he's my neighbor.”

“Which makes it even easier for him to pop over for late night booty calls,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Your eyes flew up over the screen of your laptop, landing on Ally as they widened. She laughed at the look on your face, rising up from her chair as the door to the shop opened once again. 

“That's bordering on very inappropriate work talk,” you quickly scolded her. “And that's the end of this topic of conversation, I think.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, a knowing smile on her lips as she made her way back towards the register. “Sure it is, boss.”

The moment the panicked cries met your ears, your eyes flew open and consciousness quickly returned to you. Pushing yourself up in your bed, you frantically began throwing the sheets off of yourself when you heard Lily’s distressed voice calling out for you in between the loud sobs that were coming from down the hall. It didn’t take Penny long to climb out of her dog bed at the noise, bolting out of the room before you’d barely managed to stand upright.

“I’m coming, Lily!” you called out to her.

Fighting back the fog of sleep you’d just abruptly woken from, you made your way out of your bedroom and crossed the few steps down the hall towards the room you’d long since turned into Lily’s for the night’s Jaime worked at the bar. Stepping into the room, you spotted her sitting up in her bed and clutching her stuffed husky version of Penny to her chest. The nightlight across the room cast her in a soft, pink glow as the real Penny sat beside her bed, her head resting along the mattress.

“Hey,” you greeted her softly, making your way over towards the edge of the bed to sit. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”

Lily nodded her head quickly as soft sobs continued to fall from her lips. You could see the damp tear streaks on her cheeks in the dim light, the sight twisting your heart in your chest. You hated ever seeing anything but a smile on her face. Opening your arms to her in offer of comfort, she immediately lunged forward across the bed and wrapped her small arms around you in a hug. You held her tight in return, rocking her gently against you.

“I’m sorry, coffee bean,” you whispered. “It was only a dream though. It wasn’t real and it can’t hurt you. And you've got Penny and I here with you.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” she whispered back, her little voice cracking from where her face was buried against your shoulder. “Don’t make me sleep, Nini, please?”

You sighed, eyelids slowly lowering as you continued to hold her against you. It must’ve been a real bad dream if she was saying that tonight. Often you wondered what her bad dreams were about when she had them, though you’d never pushed for an answer. Though by now you knew there was only one guaranteed way to get the bad dream out of her mind so she’d go back to sleep tonight and not keep you both awake all night long. You found yourself grateful that it wasn’t winter anymore.

“Do you want to go sit outside for a minute?” you asked her. “Look at the stars and calm down?”

She nodded her head against your shoulder, sniffling slightly. One of your hands lightly patted her back.

“Alright, let’s go grab our coats and shoes,” you said. 

Reluctantly she released you, though one of her little hands quickly found yours while the other still gripped her stuffed husky. Both of you slid off of the bed and made your way out of the room and down the short hallway towards the stairs. Penny dutifully followed along after the pair of you.

There was a few minutes of silence as you and Lily slipped your shoes and coats on in the front entryway of the living room before you both made your way through the kitchen and over towards the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. As you unlocked the door, your gaze landed over on Penny who was now wagging her tail behind you, excited about the prospect of going outside. 

“Uh uh,” you told her, shaking your head. “You slipped your collar a couple of nights ago and I don’t feel like chasing after you around the whole neighborhood at two in the morning. So you’re staying inside.”

Penny grumbled back at you, swinging her head around in a circle in her husky equivalent of an eye roll. You figured she was probably upset at hearing the word ‘stay’ mixed into what you’d said. But you shook your head again at her, too tired to even want to think about her slipping her collar and sneaking her way out of the old and worn wooden fence that surrounded the yard right now. 

“All your own doing, girl,” you told her. “Don’t like it? Stop sneaking out of the yard and making me chase after you. Until then, you stay put.”

With another irritated and prolonged grumble, Penny slowly lowered herself down onto the kitchen floor. Lily giggled lightly at your stubborn dog as you focused back on the door, pulling it open and stepping outside with her hand once more holding onto yours. Though as you both stepped out onto the patio, you quickly noticed you weren’t alone in the backyard. 

On the small neighboring patio next to yours, you spotted Frank sitting in one of the patio chairs with his legs kicked out before him, his solemn gaze fixed up above on the night sky, one of his hands absently running across his mouth. But he quickly snapped out of his thoughts seconds later when he registered the sound of your back door having slid open. His head turned over his shoulder towards the pair of you where you’d stopped frozen in your tracks.

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly, uncertain of what else to say. “I didn’t see you out here, we didn’t mean to bother you.”

Frank’s eyes dropped down onto Lily beside you, her hand still holding tight to yours while the other clutched her stuffed husky to her chest. You noticed the way his gaze softened instantly when he’d focused on her, probably noticing her red puffy eyes from having just been crying. 

“‘S’alright,” he replied, his gaze sliding back up to you. “Not just my backyard.”

Drawing his feet in towards himself, he began to rise out of his chair. You winced, feeling bad for practically kicking him out of the space he’d been in first. But he’d barely risen to his feet before the sound of Lily’s voice stopped him.

“I had a bad dream,” she said softly. “Do you get bad dreams, Frank?”

Frank froze halfway out of his chair, a muscle twitching in his cheek as the moonlight above illuminated his face. Your brows knitted faintly together as you watched his entire body tense at her question. Gradually his attention fixed back onto your niece, his eyes a confusing mix of emotions that your tired brain couldn’t quite read.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I do.”

Something about the heavy tone in which he’d answered her had caught your attention. His words felt like a loaded answer, one with more meaning behind it that you found yourself curious about. What sort of bad dreams did he have? Were they the reason for the often gruff exterior he seemed to exude? Was it anything to do with why he was here by himself?

Though of course, you weren’t remotely about to ask him a single one of those questions.

Lily dropped your hand, her arms both holding the stuffed dog to her chest in a hug as she crossed the small distance over to Frank's patio. You frowned, shoulders sagging at her once more being the four year old she was who couldn't help inserting herself somewhere she shouldn't be.

“Lily, please don't–”

“What makes you feel better after a bad dream?” Lily asked Frank, cutting you off as if you hadn't even begun to reprimand her. “I go outside with Nini. The stars are pretty to look at.”

You shot Frank an apologetic smile before focusing back on your niece. Taking a step forward, you reached a hand out in an attempt to direct her back into your side of the yard. “Lily,” you began again, “you can't just go barging into his yard and asking him personal questions. That's not polite, coffee bean. Especially not at two in the morning.”

Frank glanced up at you, shaking his head lightly. “It's alright,” he assured you. “She’s not bothering me. The opposite, actually.” 

Taken aback by his response, once again considering the hour and your niece’s intrusive question, you were surprised to see Frank settle back down into his chair. There was a small smile on his face as he rested his fidgeting hands in his lap, his attention returning to your niece as Lily continued over onto his patio, climbing up onto the patio chair beside his as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. Standing with the toes of your shoes in the grass just before his patio and at the edge of your yard, you weren’t even sure how to react at this point.

“I like to look at the stars sometimes, too,” he told Lily. “Sometimes they’re calming for me. Other times I might read a book.”

Lily smiled, her little legs not quite reaching the ground from where she sat in the chair absently petting her stuffed dog. “I like when Nini reads me books. She does good voices,” she told him.

Frank’s attention briefly shifted over to where you were standing, something still indecipherable written on his face. Despite the slight chill of the spring night, you felt something warm creep up your neck and flood your cheeks. Nervously you wrapped your arms over your chest, the weight of his gaze once more drawing forth some confusing feelings inside of you.

“Does she now?” Frank mused.

“Mhmm,” Lily replied, beginning to swing her legs back and forth. “I like when she reads the monkey book.”

Frank’s mouth twisted into a sad smile, his gaze dropping down towards his booted feet that had begun toeing the pavement beneath them. Your brows pulled together a bit, a crease forming between them as you noted the slight shift in his mood. He was quiet for a moment before you heard him speak again.

“Used to read One Batch, Two Batch to my daughter every night,” he murmured. “Was her favorite book. Sometimes that’s what she wanted me to read when she had bad dreams.”

“Nini reads that book to me all the time!” Lily exclaimed, excitedly sitting forward in her chair. “That’s where Penny got her name!”

“Is it now?” Frank asked, glancing up at her. 

Even from his profile you could tell the look on Frank’s face hinted at something more hidden behind what he’d said. His use of past tense hadn’t gone unnoticed even to your tired ears, either. You could practically feel a sadness exuding from him where he sat in the chair, chuckling softly as Lily bounced up and down in her seat telling him about how she’d helped you name your husky when you’d adopted her not too long ago. But as she continued to enthusiastically tell the story, you could tell that sadness never seemed to fade from his expression.

“Hey, Lil?” you said, cutting in when you found an opportunity. 

She paused in the middle of her storytelling, the pair of them focusing on you where you still stood at the edge of your yard. You knew if you didn’t stop her now, she’d probably sit there talking to Frank until the sun came up, and while it oddly looked as if he almost wouldn’t mind that, you definitely felt it was time to usher her back inside to bed before she’d be too awake to fall back asleep with how excited she'd already become.

“Maybe we should tell Frank goodnight and head back inside?” you suggested. “It’s late and I’m sure he needs to get to sleep at some point, too. Besides, I’m dropping you off at your dad’s in the morning and I think you’ll want to be rested to spend the day with him, right?”

The excitement quickly fell from Lily’s face and you fought the ache in your chest at the sight. It had been great seeing her happy after how you’d just found her in her room, but you really did need to get some sleep and so did she. If she continued on talking to Frank like this you knew she'd be wide awake talking for the next hour.

“How about I let you bring Penny’s bed into your room for the rest of the night, hmm?” you offered. “Let her sleep in there with you, too?”

The smile immediately returned to her face as she scooted off the patio chair. “Really?” she asked, hopping up and down on her feet. “She can stay with me tonight?”

You nodded, barely getting an affirmative out before Lily was darting past you back towards your sliding door and calling ‘goodnight’ out loudly to Frank as she went. She was back inside your place and darting presumably up to your room to get the dog bed with Penny bounding along behind her in no time. 

Frank’s soft chuckle drew your attention back towards him. Your arms were still hugging your chest as you sent him yet another apologetic smile.

“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” you told him, gesturing your head towards the direction Lily had disappeared. “She’s not very shy, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Doesn’t quite understand when she's being rude instead of friendly.”

Frank’s hand ran across his mouth as he shook his head, a glimmer of something in his eyes as he looked up at you. Your stomach fluttered nervously at the realization of just how alone you currently were with him.

“Seems like a real good kid,” he told you. 

“Yeah,” you said, smiling fondly. “She is.” Clearing your throat, you took a step backwards, aware that you needed to get back inside. “Sorry for bothering you, though. I’ll uh, leave you to it.”

Turning around, you made your way back towards your side of the duplex. Once again you’d found that Frank had surprised you with how sweet he was with your niece, though learning he had a daughter certainly seemed to explain that away. You wondered if he and his wife had recently separated or divorced and that was why he was out here looking so melancholic.

Just as your hand grabbed onto the handle of your sliding door, pulling it open, you heard Frank’s voice from behind you. You paused there on the patio at the sound of it.

“You’re good with her,” he called out.

Biting back the smile on your face, you glanced back over your shoulder at him.

“Could say the same about you,” you called back.

He let out an amused huff, ducking his head almost bashfully at your compliment. That smile was further threatening to take over your face as you heard Lily loudly talking to Penny upstairs inside your duplex.

“Goodnight, Frank.”

He looked up at you from beneath his lashes, his head still partially ducked down. There was a ghost of a smile on his face as he nodded back at you once.

“G’night,” he replied.

Stepping back into your place, you found yourself smiling to yourself as you shut and locked the sliding door behind you. As you began to slip off your coat and shoes in the kitchen, you wondered if maybe having him as a neighbor wouldn’t be half as bad as you’d first thought.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #frank castle #the punisher

[f1version]

ORDER NUMBER 16 ★ CL16

pairing: engineer!charles leclerc x scientist!reader (she/her)

summary: something about flirting with the guy you met at McDonald's at almost midnight.

warnings: fluff, meet-cute, probably unhealthy eating habits (aka mcdonald’s at midnight) because of work, the engineer and scientist thing is mentioned once, it is what it is (and it’s fluff)

word count: 1.2k

notes: originally wrote this in italian, like it made sense so it just happened, so have that piece of information!! also happy late birthday to this two baes @formulaforza & @strawberrysainz <33

“Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get you tonight?” The cashier said with a half-smile, they seemed tired, having the last shift of the day didn’t feel ideal anyways.

“Hi, can I have a six-piece McNuggets combo? Thank you,” you said, handing over your card, and Allison —according to the name tag— nodded, charging six and a half euros, handing it back with a ticket. Number 15. "Thanks again!"

A bar table, five four-seat tables, and the counter made the McDonald's a small place, a quick stop in small Maranello. You had the impression that you would be the only one there at 11 p.m. However, while you waited for your order, the door opened revealing a brown-haired man, his green —or blue? no— eyes finding yours for a couple of seconds.

"Number 15!" One of the workers called, making you look away.

Both of you reached the counter simultaneously, once again curious eyes stealing glances, there was something in him that attracted you. Maybe it was the fact that he was very handsome, or maybe it was the sheepish smile he gave you before greeting Allison.

"I would like a cheeseburger, thank you," you heard the stranger ask for and a slight smile left your lips, Cheeseburger, really?

You took your tray and headed to one of the tables, sipping on your soda. Order number 16 was called about two minutes later and you felt the movement a few meters away.

For the third time that night, green may be the only color available when the stranger sits at the table across from you, face to face with you. A small smile found it’s way to your lips, Was this guy serious? This is his way of flirting? Is it even intentional?

You watched him take the first bite of his burger and, as if it were a movie, the meat slid off the bun, his eyes turning away from yours automatically. A soft laugh left your lips, his cheeks turning crimson.

Suddenly the table in front of him seemed to be the most interesting thing in the world, his eyes following the pattern on it. This guy.

You softly tapped the table, the silence on the establishment enough to let him hear, his head shooting upward, giving you what you assumed was his ‘I’m embarrassed’ smile. You, confident enough in whatever this interaction was, tilted your head towards the chair in front of you, an invitation. 

He changed seats, both of you smiling, searching for the start of a conversation.

“So, is your burger okay?” you said. The man seemed a bit taken aback, yet he laughed. 

“I hope so,” he replied. He was smiling, pretty crinkles around his eyes as he took a couple of fries into his mouth, “That was a bit embarrassing”

You laughed, “Well, I think it was a good first impression,” you saw his cheeks flush again.

“Really? Then I’m the luckiest guy on earth,” he said and you laughed, taking a moment to tell him your name. His eyes widened, “Oh Right, mamma mia, I’m- I’m Charles”

You laughed and he followed, this was so awkward yet it felt right. Talking to him- Charles is very nice.

“So,” he imitated you, “How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight? And don't say because you were hungry,” Charles asked. 

“Oh, I had the fantastic idea of leaving my job a little late, forgot I had an empty fridge, and I was hungry,” you answered. "What about you? How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight?"

"I wanted to meet a pretty girl, of course," Charles said, a grin on his face. You giggled softly, he broke his little act, “Actually, my reason is not that different. I was working on a few blueprints and when I finished, this McDonald’s was on the way to my flat."

“Blueprints?” you asked.

“I’m an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari”

“You’re lying” You smiled incredulously, he shook his head. Of course, this had to be more perfect, “I’m a scientist for Ferrari, Charles,” You took out your nearly new ID, “I got the job a couple of weeks ago.”

Charles chuckled, bringing out his own ID, "Well, what a crazy coincidence, isn't it?"

“A rather pleasant one if you ask me”

Your eyes met, and both of you burst into laughter. 

This was such an unexpected thing, but in some way, it made sense. A lot of people living around Maranello worked for Ferrari, yet meeting one in McDonald’s wasn’t the most normal thing. 

Additionally, Charles is gorgeous, his hair brown and a bit messy, his shape soft but defined, and his green eyes. They were like walking through an enchanted forest and ending up at the beach, turning and deep but also bright and colorful. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in them. 

He looked at you sweetly as both of you finished your meal, his eyes drifting to your last nugget. A question appeared on his mind.

“Why nuggets?” he asked.

“What? You don’t like them?” you giggled a bit, eyes widening when you noticed his hesitation. “No”

“Well, it’s not that I don’t like them!” Charles tried to defend himself, laughter escaping him.

“Oh mamma mia, no no,” you dramatized, “Charles, you can’t call me pretty girl and then tell me you don’t like nuggets!”

"I've never tried them!" he said, eating the last of his fries.

Your eyes widened again, “What? Never?” Charles shook his head, “How is that even possible? Are you allergic?” you continued, one hand resting on the table while the other grabbed your soda.

"No, my mum always ordered a cheeseburger for me and it just stuck," Charles explained, one of his hands reaching for yours.

“Well, now I will have to make you try them!”

“Well-”

“Hey guys,” the McDonald’s employee, Allison, interrupted “It's almost half past twelve and we have to clean the place, so if you could please wrap it up! Thank you!”

“Yeah, of course,” Charles was fast to answer.

You looked at him, and he was already looking at you, cheeks flushed and you knew you were as red. Without talking, you finished eating your nugget and he finished his drink, honey eyes locking with each other. Why does it have to end?

“It was so nice meeting you, Charles,” you rushed out, not wanting to say goodbye. 

He smiled knowingly, “You know, I would like to try some nuggets, maybe after work or on a weekend?”

And how could you say no to that? 

“I would really like that”

“Yeah?” You nodded and he beamed, “It’s a date then,” Charles rapidly grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen from his pocket.

“Don’t you want to write your number directly on my phone?” you asked endeared, he was writing as fast as he could.

“For what?” he said standing up, and handing you the paper, “That takes away the cliché aspect!”

You chuckled, picking up your tray and dumping what was on it, Charles did the same. Both of you said goodbye to the —apparently very invested in your relationship— employees and left.

"My flat is one block that way," you said pointing to the right.

"Mine is one block to the left," he replied, "I guess not everything could be so perfect."

You smiled, "I’ll see you later, yeah?"

"Of course, see you soon," he said before taking your hand, squeezing it, and letting go.

3XX-XXXXXXX — Charles Leclerc ♡

Don’t tell anyone but I think I fell in love with this girl at Mcdonald’s!!!

#‎ “ ࣭⸰ ★ my writings ! #cl16 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc ferrari #f1 charles leclerc #charles leclerc f1 #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 blurb #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 2023

[hotchfiles]

↪ kate joyner and hotch were fucking in the period of her appearance, an essay

it's sunday and i have no social life and i think way harder about hotch than a normal sane person should but. since getting into criminal minds there has been The Question (and it wasn't just me! i've seen other people talk about it): did hotch cheat on haley while liaising with kate when she was in scotland yard? i always doubted that because he's not a cheater (but he is A man...), so today i bring you my updated theory: they were in the starts of a relationship before she died. i'm not without evidence. so let's go!

3x20

kate calls hotch on his personal phone, late at night

he speaks to her very casually for someone who doesn't talk on a regular basis and only know each other from a past assignment

jj's reaction shows it isn't common for hotch to go above jj when choosing cases

again, very casually speaking of her, calling her kate only

the apparent common knowledge is that she's a brit but

hotch not only knows she has a dual citizenship, but also which parent is british and which one is american

AND MY FAVORITES

IT ONLY GETS BETTER FROM HERE ALRIGHT

LETS GO

why say that if not to imply hotch has interest in her because she looks like his ex wife who he recently divorced (not willingly !)

AGAIN WITH THE FIRST NAMES! she doesnt call him hotch ONCE. its aaron, from the start. and HIS SMILE. LOOK AT THIS FUCKER'S FACE

garcia's reaction to the informality

now why would emily use this tone if it was to imply hotch is a CHEATER???

no thats the "oh they ARE fucking" tone

this is sort of a reach because hotch worries about everyone he works with but STILL, going from "i know her because we liaised" to this--i rest my case

then this, i didnt think too much of it because hotch can be a bit of an ass with protocol and hierarchy whateverrrr BUT

emily was sooo uncomfortable which shows in fact that wasnt normal behavior

WHY SAY THAT IF THE TWO OF THEM WERENT OBVIOUSLY FUCKING !!!!

is that it? obviously not, i am in fact INSANE so

4x1

THE FLIRTY EYES AND SMILES

AGAIN. HE DOESNT CALL HER JOYNER. NOT EVEN ONCE. KATE. AT ALL TIMES.

THIS WOMAN IS DYING AND LOOK AT THE WAY SHES SMILING AT HIM AFTER SAYING SHES NOT IN PAIN very allison dying in the arms of her first love coded

another detail i like to point out is that aaron is completely capable of walking rn, he could easily walk over to the end of the street to talk to one of the officers there but he just wouldnt, couldnt, leave her alone.

he knows the first responders wont get near them yet, he keeps BEGGING that someone does

and now for my final argument

the way he holds her hand by the ending before putting it back in place

NOW I REST MY CASE

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #lari is kind of insane