#red sweater for barbie doll

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Summary: A disastrous PTA meeting and an unfortunate grocery store encounter have you and Eddie questioning whether or not you deserve each other.

Warnings: a bit of dirty talk (18+ just in case), feelings of unworthiness, Carol Perkins and Billy Hargrove make appearances, mentions of bullying, small allusion to drug use and poverty, arrest, tiny allusion to Eddie's breeding kink

WC: 7.1k

Chapter 13/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special thanks to @girlwiththerubyslippers & @corroded-hellfire for helping with this chapter!

Your Thursday mornings at Hawkins Preschool usually involve a light tap on the door and a blink-and-you-missed-it wave from Eddie; maybe a wink if no one’s looking. Today, he’s stopped by the classroom with a steaming styrofoam cup in hand.

“I thought you only brought me coffee on Mondays,” you laugh appreciatively. You take the still-hot beverage from him, folding back the plastic tab and blowing on it lightly before taking a sip. It’s made just as you like it and warms you from the inside out.

Eddie smiles, crossing his arms over his chest an leaning in closer so his leather-clad shoulder grazes sweater-covered one. “Ah, but the PTA meeting is after school today.” As if you could forget forty minutes of unpaid work that could be spent reading, resting, snuggling up to your thoughtful metalhead boyfriend… “Figured you could use an extra boost of caffeine to help you power through.” He lowers his voice to add, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it. But Wayne’ll be there.” He squeezes your hand quickly just as Abby Carver approaches you. 

You pull away so fast that you bang your elbow against the side of the desk, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a yelp. “What can I do for ya, Abby?” you ask, smiling through the throbbing pain.

“Joshua said that he’s taller than me!” she whines, messily swiping at her ruddy tear-stained cheeks. Her dad only dropped her off five minutes ago, and she’s already conjured up a crisis. Unsurprising, but exasperating nonetheless.

You peer over at Joshua Harrington, who is currently constructing a racetrack, unbothered by Abby’s distressed state. Your gaze flits back over to the little girl in front of you. “Honey, he is taller than you,” you gently explain, watching as her bright blue eyes begin to well up again.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t havta say it!” she protests, stamping her sneaker on the speckled tile floor. It’s one that lights up, little red and blue and green twinkles dashing along the side.

You nod, sucking in your lips in a feeble attempt to keep a straight face. “Well, you can just play somewhere else. And we’re gonna get started with circle time in a few minutes.” Time to sing the Good Morning song–again. If the kids didn’t beg for it every day, you would’ve scrapped it months ago, but it keeps them entertained.

Once she scampers off, already zeroing in on a group of girls dressing up some time-battered Barbie dolls, you turn your attention back to Eddie. 

“We’re still on for Saturday?” you ask, a subtle reminder of your upcoming date at Enzo’s. It’s a fancier restaurant than either of you are used to, but Eddie had insisted on it.

He nods quickly, scratching at the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous, though you’re not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Y-Yeah, I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I can’t wait.”

At 3:15, you and Will trudge into the classroom that’s serving as the meeting venue. It only takes a moment for you to remember that it’s Ms. Marion’s room, and your eyes scan the walls for Harris’s artwork. You find it easily; it’s the best in the class. It’s a drawing based on the saying, ‘March is in like a lion and out like a lamb,’ and each kid drew a picture of the two animals. Harris has meticulously added details to his. He’s drawn a zig-zag line under the lion’s pink nose to represent his aggression and given the lamb a puffy coat of wool, while the other kids just drew smiling lions and a circle to represent their lambs’ bodies. He’s also included a speech bubble hovering above each of their heads; the lion’s says “ROR!!!” and the lamb bleats “BAAA.” 

Will’s gaze follows yours, and his lips turn up into a smile when he sees what you’re staring at. “He’s a talented kid,” he remarks. “We gotta have him sign something now so we can say ‘we knew him when.’” 

You nod your head in agreement and return his grin. You’ll have to tell Eddie to have Harris swing by your classroom after school tomorrow so Harris can autograph some drawings.

Wayne comes in a few minutes later, taking a seat behind you and Will.

“How’s your day going, Wayne?” You turn around in your chair and greet him. Seeing the older Munson always lifts your spirits. He’s wearing a flannel, checks of olive green and white, over a white t-shirt that proudly proclaims: My Favorite Person Calls Me Grampa.

Wayne gives a little shrug; for him, it’s the equivalent of a beaming smile. “Can’t complain. Didn’t get too much pushback from Harris when I dropped him at the baby-sitter’s.” He explains that Claudia Henderson still has a bunch of the games her son had played with, and Harris loves going through the toy bin and finding something new. “Well, new to him. That stuff’s gotta be nearly twenty years old by now.” He scratches the white-gray whiskers on his cheek and chuckles. “Jeez, ‘m old. I remember buyin’ those kinda games for Eddie when he was a kid.”

More parents and teachers file in and, eventually, the PTA president stands at the front of the classroom and calls the meeting to order. The idle conversation gradually ceases, and Linda Wright presses her lips into a thin smile and smooths nonexistent creases in her khaki slacks.

“Welcome, everyone,” she begins, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank you all for being here. We have quite a few items to cover today, so let’s get to it!” She’s far too chipper for your liking, and you wince involuntarily as she excitedly announces the upcoming parent-child talent show. It’s an annual school-hosted fundraiser, and apparently a popular one; there’s a soft roar of discussion before Linda wrinkles her nose in irritation and shushes the group.

“Oh, Ed’s gonna love that,” Wayne leans in and whispers to you. “He’ll probably be more excited than Harris.” He sits up straight when Linda clears her throat and glares in his direction.

The president launches into a tirade about kindergarten readiness strategies, handing out little pamphlets to the parents and guardians. The cover displays an overly-enthusiastic teacher surrounded by a small group of students who are closely attending to a fake lesson.

You hear Wayne grumble under his breath: “What is there to be ready for? It’s kindergarten, Jesus Christ.” and you have to stifle a laugh.

Linda luckily doesn’t hear his lament. “I’m opening up the floor to any questions or concerns.” Now is the time that people typically start gathering their belongings and resume unfinished conversations. It’s precisely what you plan to do until you hear an all-too familiar snide voice from across the room. 

“Yes, I have a question.” Carol Perkins stands up. She places her hands on her hips and pulls her lips into a smirk. “What is the school’s policy on parent-teacher relationships? Romantic and…otherwise?” Her gaze sweeps over to you, hovering there for a bit, and you realize with a sense of dread that she’s enjoying this. “Because, to me,” she splays her manicured fingers over the center of her chest, “it just seems completely unprofessional.”

The PTA members start whispering amongst themselves, eyebrows raised in excitement as they try to determine the culprit amongst themselves.

You want to crawl into a hole and die. You can feel Wayne’s eyes on the back of your head, as though he’s silently willing you to remain composed. The only other person who knows of your relationship with Eddie is Will, and you can tell that he’s doing everything in his power not to wrap his arms around you in a hug.

At the very least, the principal is not tolerating the dissolution of the meeting into a gossip session. “Ms. Perkins, we can discuss this at a later time. Privately.” Sue Sinclair’s expression is stoic, unreadable, and you’re not sure whether she’s angry at you or Carol. How would she know it’s me? But logic has no reason with emotion taking center stage, and you’re all too grateful when Chrissy Carver shifts the conversation to organize a ticket sale committee. For the most part, it seems like Carol’s little outburst has been swept under the rug. The meeting concludes as some parents leave while others stick around to schedule playdates, but you remain seated.

A hand on your shoulder startles you from your humiliated stupor, and you look up to see Will looking at you. Sympathy radiates from his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he softly reassures you. “I don’t think anyone knows, and even if they do, who cares? Harris isn’t in your class anymore.”

“I-I know.” But Frankie is, which means I’ll have to face Carol every day, I’ll have to deal with her smarmy expressions and backhanded comments. The blood drains in your face when you think about her spreading rumors to the other parents, their amused stares as they drop their children off to be in your care.

Wayne speaks up as he stands, leaning his gnarled knuckles on the seat of the folding chair for support. “Darlin’, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. It’s no one’s business who you’re with.” He brushes some dust off of his dungarees and walks with a slight limp towards the door, the remnants of an old injury that flares up in the colder weather. “I gotta go get Harris, but you keep your chin up.” He gives Will a quick head bob that the younger man returns, having developed somewhat of a camaraderie with the elder Munson during the various post-graduation Hellfire sessions held at the trailer.

Carol says nothing as she leaves the room, deep in conversation with Steve Harrington and his wife. If they don’t know about you and Eddie yet, you’re confident that Carol will ensure they do soon. Dread pools in your stomach at the thought of small-town gossip flying, your professionalism being called into question, the possibility of you losing your job. And everyone will know why. 

Eddie’s hands tremor with excitement; his whole body buzzes with energy as he grabs the receiver off of the glass countertop. He dials your number–his favorite seven digit combination in the world–and beams the entire time. As soon as he hears your, “hello?”, he’s practically shouting into the phone. Volume control has never been his forte, especially after years of blowing out his eardrums with loud music.

“Babe, guess what?” He drums his left hand fingertips on the counter, a rhythmic pum-pum-pum to keep his breath steady.

“What’s up?” 

He notes hesitance in your tone, but chalks it up to exhaustion from your extended workday. “I applied for that manager position? The one I told you about on our first date?” He hears your soft “mhm,” before proceeding. “And I got it! Ash just told me now!” He smiles, pressing the receiver to his ear with his shoulder as he organizes paperwork into a pile. “Eddie Munson, getting the girl and the job? Never in Hawkins’ wildest dreams!”

There’s a pause on your end of the line before you reply. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. No one deserves this more than you do.” 

Though there’s still an air of something Eddie can’t quite identify, it’s woven with genuine pride for his accomplishment. His fingertips keep busy as they graze up and down the phone cord. “Now we, uh, really have something to celebrate at Enzo’s.”

Another pause; this one is so long that he wonders if the line disconnected. “Um, about that…” you finally speak up, and Eddie hopes you don’t hear the gigantic sigh of relief that escapes his lips, “maybe we could just do something at my place? Grab takeout, watch a movie or something?”

His relief evaporates almost as quickly as it came, and he puts his weight on his forearms and lowers his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just been a long week.”

It sounds too automatic, too rehearsed to be true. Eddie doesn’t believe you, but he needs to get to Wayne’s and pick up Harris before his uncle leaves for work. “I really wanted to take you out, show you off, y’know?” He clears his throat, scrambling for words. “We can talk more about it later. Try to get some rest, Sweetheart.”

“Mmkay,” you mumble, and Eddie hopes he’s not just imagining the smile in your voice. “I’ll try. Say hi to Harris and Wayne for me.”

He ends the phone call promising that he will, hanging up hesitantly. What happened between this morning and this evening that had you backing out of the date and retreating into your home? 

I shouldn’t have tried to hold her hand, he grimaces, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road towards Forest Hills. That was so stupid; she was at work, and the kids were right there. Way to go, Munson. 

Eddie continues to brood about his faux pas all the way until he gets to Wayne’s, slapping a smile on his face as he relays the news about his promotion. The smile becomes less forced the more he talks. He’s suddenly consumed with thoughts of buying a house with a yard, a pool–well, maybe not a pool; he’s not making that much money–but definitely space for Harris to run around and play.

And in this fantasy world he’s created, you’re standing on the front porch, sipping coffee out of a World’s Best Mom mug–possibly the only mug Wayne doesn’t already have nailed to the trailer wall–made just the way you like it. You’re laughing as you watch Harris sprint back and forth across the grass. Eddie imagines it neatly cut, but the reality is that it would probably be more than a bit overgrown.

He’d sneak up behind you, snaking arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses onto the back of your neck–

“That’s amazing, Ed!” Wayne claps a hand on his nephew’s back, drawing him out of his daydream and thrusting him back into reality. He pulls him into a quick hug, not overabundant in affection, but his delight seeps through. “You talk to your girl yet?” 

“First person I called.” My girl. The first person I called was my girl. She’s my girl and I’m her man–

“Good.” Wayne responds pensively, smoothing down his unruly mustache whiskers and reaching for his pack of Camels. He shoves them into his side pocket, right on top of the lighter. “She could use some good news after that shitshow of a PTA meeting.”

Eddie’s brows crinkle, pinched together in non-understanding. “What are you talking about?” he asks before calling out his son’s name to bring him from the bedroom. He can hear the bed springs creaking, which can only mean that Harris is jumping on the old mattress. Apparently, breaking his wrist didn’t result in a lesson learned.

“She didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” He slams his palm onto the countertop as confusion melts into frustration. Weren’t you past this? Past keeping secrets and masking emotions?

Wayne sighs, weighing his options. Ultimately, his allegiance is to his nephew, so he divulges what happened that afternoon, heart sinking as Eddie’s face falls with each word. “She seemed real shook up,” he concludes the story, digging out the pack of cigarettes. Delivering news that devastates his nephew has him urgently craving a smoke. “I wanted to stay and talk to her, but Claudia had somewhere to be at five.”

Eddie chews on his lower lip, pulling off a bit of dry skin with his front teeth. “Yeah, no, ‘s fine.” He calls Harris out of the bedroom again, patience sufficiently thinned. Of course Carol Perkins would shoot off her big mouth about your personal life. It’s not like she had anything better to do. None of that is surprising. 

What worries Eddie is why you didn’t tell him about it. Were you embarrassed that people knew you were together? Is that why you didn’t want to be seen at Enzo’s with him? Would you agree to a restaurant far outside the bounds of Hawkins, or was this shame rooted deeper than small-town gossip?

Wayne can sense his anxiety, and he scrambles to dam up Eddie’s flooding thoughts as he fumbles to put the cigarette between his lips. “It’s pretty damn obvious that you two care for each other. Dare I say, you lo—”

“Wayne!”

“Fine, fine,” Wayne chuckles and grabs his lunch pack. The ceasing of the bed springs indicates that Harris has stopped jumping, and Eddie can hear toy cars clattering into a bag. “But you should just talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.” He lowers his voice as Harris finally emerges. “I know it ain’t been easy to hear rumors your whole life, but this is new to her. Cut her a little slack.”

Eddie looks around the trailer at what was his first real home. He’d bounced from place to place with his parents, dodging angry landlords and their threats of eviction. From a young age, he’d learned to dread the end of the month, knowing that conflict was inevitable. Screaming voices, accusations of hiding money, when anyone with working eyes could see that they’d all but stuffed it in a pipe and smoked it. There was no love; only survival. Wayne was never the cookies and milk, family dinner, Leave it to Beaver type, but he offered Eddie something he’d never had before: safety.

Now, Eddie scoops Harris into his arms and follows Wayne out of the trailer as he locks up. There’s not too much of great value; possibly just the TV, but even that’s on the fritz. And unless a thief had a hankering for hokey mugs and baseball caps, they’d probably leave without taking a thing. “Thanks, Old Man.”

“‘S what I’m here for,” Wayne says, pressing a kiss to Harris’s mop of curls. He pauses, and then does something he hasn’t done in years: he kisses the top of Eddie’s head, too. “Not just a pretty face, y’know.”

On Saturday evening, Eddie finds himself at Bradley’s Big Buy, scouring the aisles until he locates the small refrigerator holding various flower bouquets. The chill hits him in the chest as he opens the door, crouching down to get a better look at the offerings through their tissue-paper wraps. He’s determined to take you to Enzo’s, and he’d hoping this small gesture will show you that he can be the man you deserve.

He finds a bouquet of pink peonies and grabs them from the display case, clutching them proudly. They’re delicate and beautiful, just like you. He raises them up, the petals tickling his nose when he inhales the fresh scent, when he overhears Billy Hargrove speaking in a hushed tone:

“Thought you were stopping by after that parent meeting thing.”

“My idiot husband came home early,” a woman–Carol Perkins, Eddie realizes–punctuates her lament with an irritated sigh. “But speaking of that meeting–I’ve been meaning to tell you: guess who’s also hooking up?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer before divulging the gossip, “Frankie’s teacher and Eddie Munson.”

“The teacher and the Freak? No way.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek and chuckles maliciously. “Didn’t know she was down for that kind of stuff.”

“Keep it in your pants,” Carol huffs, as though she’s not stepping out on her own husband. “But I’m serious! He brings her coffee and leaves her stupid love notes.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes together as he cringes. Billy’s second round of mean laughter transports him back to the time the jock grabbed his brand-new D20 off of the lunch table and used his basketball skills to chuck it into a far-off trash can. The ruby red die sunk into the mountain of discarded lumps resembling mashed potatoes and half-eaten meatloaf, forcing Eddie to trek across the cafeteria and fish it out of the pile of old food. “Love notes? What, is he in high school or something?”

Carol snickers. “Guess he’s making up for all the times he didn’t bother, since he knew no girl in this town would go for him.”

“Looks like he had to go for an import,” Billy jokes, drawing a hideous cackle from his friend. Eddie can practically hear the man’s ego inflating at the way Carol fawns over him.

“And a desperate one at that,” she snorts. “I mean, can you imagine lowering your standards enough to be with Eddie Munson?”

“Let’s hope she comes to her senses eventually,” he agrees. “So, is your husband home now…?”

All Eddie can think is to run, to get the hell out of there before anyone spots him and notices the pink tinging his cheeks and the tears welling in his eyes. He’s so focused on leaving and getting past the two bullies that he forgets about the flowers in his hand, until an infuriated voice calls after him.

“Hey! Get back here!” The manager rolls his eyes when he recognizes the culprit. “Eddie Munson. Of course. I should’ve known that shoplifting isn't too juvenile a crime for you.” 

Eddie can hear Billy and Carol poorly stifling their amusement at his misfortune. He struggles to find the proper words to explain himself as his entire body is engulfed in the flames of embarrassment, burning him from the inside out. “No…I didn’t mean…it was an accident…”

The manager shakes his head with a biting laugh. He’s a graying man who should have been retired fifteen years ago when Eddie was actually shoplifting. The liver-spotted creases around his eyes are particularly visible when he sneers, “Heard that one before. Prob’ly from you.”

Anger burns in Eddie’s throat, but he swallows it. “Look, let me just pay for these, and I’ll get outta here.” He starts to fumble for his wallet, but the old man shakes his head.

“Nice try. I let you off easy too many times when you were a kid, and look where it got ya.” His cold hand clasps Eddie’s bicep as tightly as his feebleness allows. “I’m calling the sheriff. He can decide what to do with you.”

“Shit-shit-shit,” Eddie mumbles, yanking himself from the man’s grip. “Y’don’t have to hold me; I’m not gonna run away.”

To his surprise, the manager lets him go, though it’s likely due to his advanced age rather than trusting Eddie to do the right thing.

He’s taken to the back room, anxiously tapping his foot against the floor and biting his thumbnail. A quick glance at his watch tells him that he’s supposed to pick you up in 15 minutes. He breathes out a long sigh, scanning the bulletin board hastily fastened to the wall with a lone flyer advertising medical benefit sign-up. Upon closer inspection, he reads that it’s for the 1990 fiscal year, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s the last time the stodgy old Bradley ever offered insurance to his overworked, underpaid employees. 

He says a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening that Hopper is the one who answers the call. The chief will give him the benefit of the doubt and probably tear the old fart a new one for wasting his time.

Purse, keys, lipstick, condoms.

You have everything you need for your date, save for one minor detail–Eddie.

You’d expected him to stop by your classroom yesterday to say good morning like he normally does, but he didn’t show. He would’ve called you if Harris was staying home sick; a brief peek out your window during recess confirmed that the littlest Munson was present. He ran around the playground with one of his friends from the birthday party, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within you.

Eddie definitely heard what happened at the meeting, you realize miserably, and he doesn’t want to deal with the backlash he’ll get from dating his kid’s former teacher. From anxiety blooms visions of the convoluted game of telephone perpetuated by Carol, the story getting more absurd with each retelling. 

At 7:30, Eddie still hasn’t shown. He’s not exactly Mr. Punctuality, but thirty minutes is pushing it, even for him. His tardiness does nothing to ameliorate your fears. This was clearly too much for him—you were too much for him. 

You’re about to wipe the makeup off of your face and change into your coziest pair of pajamas when the phone rings, startling you slightly.

“H-Hello?”

“This is a collect call from the Hawkins County Jail. Do you accept the charges?” an automated voice bleats, too chipper for the circumstances it’s reporting.

You’re caught off-guard by the question and the tone, and you choke out a strangled, “yes” and the line rings twice.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Relief floods your body until you remember where he’s calling from.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here,” you say, and it’s only when your fingers start to cramp that you recognize how tightly you’re gripping the receiver. “Why are you in–”

He sighs into the phone, and static briefly clouds his voice. “Long story,” he mumbles. “Can you just come and get me? There’s, uh, no bail or anything.”

“I’ll be right there.” You waste no time in grabbing your keys off of their hook, nearly forgetting to shove your feet into shoes in your scramble out the door. You’re ashamed to admit that for a millisecond, you consider the possibility that he’s been busted for dealing, but you shake it off lest it further infiltrate your psyche.

You pull up to the jail exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the fastest you can get there without flying down side streets; the irony of being pulled over for speeding on your way to the police station was not lost on you. Flinging the car into park and killing the engine, you fast-walk through the entrance and hope your nervousness is hidden by the air of confidence you’re faking. 

“I’m here to pick up Eddie—er, Edward Munson?” His legal name is clunky on your tongue, like it doesn’t quite belong to him. 

The officer behind the desk wears a name badge that reads “P. Callahan.” He puts down his copy of the Hawkins Post and presses his lips into a thin line as he reaches for the walkie attached to his shirt pocket. 

“Hop, is Munson ready to be released?” Released. Like a wild animal who needs to be kept away from the general public for their own safety. 

The officer on the other end—Chief Hopper, you presume—confirms that Eddie is good to go, and a door opens shortly after that. Eddie trudges out, shame and frustration marring his beautiful face. 

You sign whatever paperwork is required before silently taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to the car. He holds it tight, a shiver of a tremor rocking through it.

“Babe, what happened?” you ask once you’re safely outside, away from where the officers can hear you.

Eddie lets go of your hand to throw his arm around you dramatically, leaning with his whole body weight. The sudden force of it has you stumbling, but he catches your fall. 

“It’s awful being on the inside,” he whines, trying to lay on an exaggerated pout, but his smile pokes through. “You’ve made me too soft for prison, baby. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you and almost got shanked.”

His joke subtly informs you that he’s not ready to actually discuss it yet, and so you roll your eyes and play along for now.  “Poor thing. Locked up for a whole forty minutes.”

“It was more like forty-five,” he protests, “and every second counts when it’s spent missing my girl.”

“You’re so full of it, Munson.” My girl. If he never calls you anything else but his girl for the rest of your lives, you wouldn’t complain.

He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in so your back is pressed against his chest. “Full of longing and devotion!”

“Sshh!” you chastise him lightly through your giggling. “Get in the car, crazy man.”

“Crazy ‘bout you!” Eddie says, booping your nose. As soon as your fingers wrap around the gearshift, he’s resting his hand atop yours. It trembles slightly.

Tell me what happened. Don’t keep any more secrets from me. I won’t judge you or leave you. I’m your girl, remember?

It takes a few blocks before you finally work up the courage to ask, “Is everything okay?” It’s a stupid question; you don’t get arrested if everything’s okay, but the alternative is a more straightforward, Why the hell did I have to pick you up from jail?, so you acquiesce. 

“‘M good.” He gives your hand another tiny squeeze and attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You sigh, poorly hiding your impatience for answers you need to know. “Can we talk about what happened?” 

His slow release of breath is in sync with your foot pressing on the brake pedal as you approach a stop sign. “Not a big deal. Just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding that led to you getting arrested?” Stop hiding. Stop pretending. Stop acting like this is fine when it clearly isn’t. Stop making me feel like you don’t trust me. The words get caught behind clenched teeth, threatening to ooze through the gaps.

“Yup.” He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes as though giving a sufficient response to end the conversation.

You drive another few minutes before you spot the sign for Lovers Lake in the distance. There’s only one surefire way to calm his nerves; whatever it is he’s keeping from you, there’s a reason he hasn’t worked up the courage to say it. 

Eddie sits up and peers out the window in confusion when you veer to the exit. “Where are we—”

“You’ll see.”

Parking in a spot secluded by trees and the dark of night, you turn to him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Can I make my man feel good?” you coo, taking his earlobe between your teeth and tugging lightly. You can feel the small bump where his piercings used to be.

“Shit, baby,” he breathily groans, adjusting the seat so you have ample space to straddle his lap. His hands fly to his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling the leather strip from its loops. Though his pants aren’t as tight around him now, you can still see the outline of his now half-hard cock beginning to press against his fly. “‘S exactly what I need.”

But it isn’t solely the act of sex that he needs, although it would be a farce to imply that he didn’t crave the feeling of you wrapped around him. It was the public nature of it; the way that anyone could walk by and see you on top of him. Could see you choosing him. The teacher choosing the Freak. 

You roll your hips, denim-on-denim creating a delicious friction that draws moans from both you and Eddie. Your lips chastely graze his neck, trailing kisses upwards until you reach the prickly stubble along his jawline. 

Eddie’s hands grab your ass, claiming it as his. “Feels—mmf—feels good,” he grunts, letting out a soft chuckle when he adds, “gonna make me cream my jeans if you keep grinding on me like that.”

“S’okay,” you shrug, maintaining your tempo. You press your lips to his and he whines into your mouth. “Just wanna ease your mind tonight, Eds.”

“Yeah, but the face you make when you cum? Christ, babe. Makes it even better for me.” He scoots you off of him for a moment, laughing again when he sees your lower lip jut out. “Let me just grab a condom, you needy little thing.”

You bury your head in the crook of his neck and begin sucking on its supple skin as he fumbles for his wallet. “Fine, fine,” you grumble, a teasing lilt in your tone. “The last thing we need is for people seeing that you knocked me up.”

Eddie freezes beneath you, his wallet falling to the weather-mat with a thud. “Wh…what?” His voice is below a whisper, volume compressed by emotion. 

“We’ve only been together, like, a month.” It’s too obvious a point to confuse him. There’s no way he really wants a kid with you right now. “We can’t have a baby—”

Eddie vehemently shakes his head, effectively cutting you off. “But that’s not what you said.” You see hurt in his eyes as you try to piece together the puzzle. The fact that you can’t immediately identify the source adds another element of frustration for both of you. “You said that we can’t have people seeing that I knocked you up. Why…why wouldn’t you want people knowing that I…?”

The imagined swell of your belly that he’d hoped you proudly show off, mindlessly caressing it as you walk hand-in-hand with him, is now covered with layers of clothing, even in summer’s heat. You’re tugging a cardigan closed, determined not to let anyone see the shame you’re carrying along with Eddie Munson’s child.

“I just figured you wouldn’t want people talking about you,” you manage, thinking of the rumor that had spread after Harris’s injury. You bring yourself back to the driver’s seat, and it takes another moment before something else dawns on you. “You wouldn’t be upset by people knowing? I mean, not that we’d, y’know, have a kid right now…because you already have one, and this is all so new…” You clamp your lips together to shut yourself up, having already blabbered on for too long.

Eddie shakes his head, tousling his frizzy curls. “Why would I be upset? You’re my girl.” Worry ripples through him, evident through his expression. His doe eyes grow even wider, and he spins his rings around his fingers. One slips and bounces off of the passenger seat, but he doesn’t move to retrieve it. “You still want to be my girl, right?”

“I still want to be your girl,” you confirm, watching his body decompress with relief. “I just don’t want to make things even worse than they are. I mean, you can’t even tell me why you were in jail tonight. That’s a pretty big deal, Eds.” There’s a lump in your throat as you force out your feelings. You hate confronting people, hate drawing information from an unwilling party. But Eddie is your boyfriend, and this is serious. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he mutters, keeping his head on the headrest and eyes trained on in front of him; his unwillingness to look at you serves as an act of defiance. “I had to hear about the PTA meeting from Wayne.”

The contents of your stomach curdle like milk in the sun. “You’d just told me about your promotion,” you stumble, unable to find footing in your meek protest, “I didn’t want to—”

“So, yesterday? Or today?” he pushes, a tango of anger and hurt dancing in his darkened pupils. “You could’ve called me.”

You could have; you’d certainly considered it more than once, but you didn’t want to bother him. It seemed like such an asinine complaint: Oh, Eddie, a grown adult bullied me, another grown adult, at the PTA meeting. Did I stand up for myself? Nope. Just sat there and tried not to sob like one of the kids I teach. “I thought if you knew what people were saying, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. You’d think I was too much of a burden.”

“You?” Eddie gawps, nearly choking on the word. “You think that you’re the burden? That you’re the reason why people are talking about this?” People. Not just Carol. The information slips from his lips, but he doesn’t catch it. “Nah, Sweetheart. In the equation of ‘Teacher’ plus ‘Freak,’ you’re hardly the problematic variable.”

“‘Teacher plus Freak?’” 

“Teacher,” he says slowly, pointing to you, “Freak.” He brings his forefinger to his own chest. “I’m kinda used to it; just sucks when it affects other people.” He looks at you through his soft brown eyes. “People I care about.”

You’re unsure how to respond, so you say nothing. You vaguely recall Jess telling you about his high school nickname, but you had no idea it had stuck after all these years. 

Eddie sighs, shifting his position to get slightly more comfortable. “Tonight, I was at the store getting some flowers for you. And, um, I heard Carol and Billy Hargrove talking about how you had to be desperate to be with me. That you’d realize you’re too good for me and leave.” His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lowers his head. You watch a tear slide down his cheek, and he sucks in a messy breath as he tries to control the dam of emotions threatening to burst.

“Too good for you?” The notion is almost comical, and you have to hold back an incredulous laugh. “Too good for the man who rescued Grandma after she locked herself in her room? Who came to her funeral? Who gave me another chance after I made an ass out of myself?” You use your pointer and middle fingers to tilt his chin upwards until his gaze meets yours. “Too good for the man who would do anything for his son?”

“No,” Eddie shoots back, “too good for the guy who grew up being taunted because he played Dungeons & Dragons instead of basketball. The guy who abandoned his pregnant girlfriend to go on tour. Who treated you like shit just to avoid getting close to you. Who…who got arrested for accidentally taking flowers from Bradley’s because he’d stolen from them so much that no one believed him when he said it wasn’t on purpose.” He recalls swiping candy bars, jars of peanut butter, and the occasional six-pack of Pabst during his rebellious teenage years. After he’d schlepped back to Hawkins, proverbial tail tucked between his legs, there was more than one occasion where he’d ripped diapers from their boxes and tucked them into his jacket pocket, walking as casually as he could until he was a safe enough distance to exhale and run.

You take a sharp breath in. “That’s what happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says; the admission is a sack of bricks being lifted from his chest. “Those schmucks got in my head, and I walked out the store with the flowers like a fuckin’ idiot.” He replays the scene in his head, inwardly cringing at his desperation to flee the premises and inadvertently drawing everyone’s attention to him. He starts to laugh, but anger, sadness, and relief all brew together and the dam bursts completely. One tear multiples to two, four, eight, until he’s simultaneously choking on sobs and laughter, the overlapping emotions wreaking havoc on his nervous system.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he manages through another half-laugh half-sob. He swipes at his cheeks with open palms, and you reach for the travel box of Kleenex you keep in the glove compartment and hand him a tissue. “Thanks.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for crying,” you murmur, barely audible as you press a kiss into his mess of curls just behind his left ear. “I want–I need you to be able to show me what you’re feeling.” Eddie blows his nose, loud and honking, and your lips turn up into a small smile. “Why do we let them get to us?” you wonder aloud, a question more for you than for him.

“I was thinking about that,” Eddie muses, stuffing the used tissue into his jacket pocket. He’ll try and remember to toss it later, but part of him knows he’ll find it there tomorrow. “Like, I didn’t give a damn what they said about me back in high school, but now, as an adult, I do?” He takes a deep breath through his mouth. “And I realized…it’s because I never cared about what they thought of me. Not really. But, fuck, I care about what you think of me.” He swallows before stroking your cheek. “I want to be enough for you.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, letting your lips linger there longer than necessary to ensure the feeling of belonging becomes entrenched in his pores. “You’re enough, Eddie. You’ve always been enough.” Your hands find his, and you lace your fingers together. “I have an idea. Why don’t we grab some takeout, maybe pick up a bottle of wine, and bring it back to my place.” You immediately worry that you’ve proven his point of not wanting to be seen with him, so you quickly backtrack. “We can still go out to dinner; I just figured…after the night you had…”

He silences you with a kiss of his own, nose nudging the side of yours. “I’d love that.” Before you can start the car again, he says, “what Carol said at the meeting…did it really make you think I wouldn’t want to be with you?”

You nod solemnly, breaking his heart all over again. “You already have so much on your plate. I didn’t want to be another problem to deal with.”

Eddie’s expression hardens, but his frustration isn’t directed towards you. It’s for anyone who has ever made you feel like loving you is a chore. He does the only thing he can think of doing: he takes your face in his hands, fingers tucked behind the smooth skin of your ears, and peppers your face in a flurry of kisses.

“Eddie!” you cry out through a fit of giggles. Your eyes squeeze together as his lips tickle your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin. 

He only pulls away to take a breath, and when he does, he’s smiling through shiny eyes as he continues holding your face. “You are not a problem. Never.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “We make each other happy. And if anyone tries to fuck with that, we’ll just…sic Harris on them.”

The gray clouds that were scattered across your brain dissipate at the mere idea of the boy charging at Billy and Carol like a miniature rhinoceros. Insecurity still hovers over you, waiting for the perfect blend of sadness and vulnerability to strike, but it’s not quite as heavy as it was before. 

You aren’t too much for Eddie, and Eddie is enough for you.

And you’re everything to each other. 

--

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[eiightysixbaby]

i’ll be home for christmas

PART TWO: Run Run Rudolph

previous part || series masterlist || next part

word count: 5.1k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie isn’t enjoying life in chicago, but he’s been too stubborn to admit it. when he's at his breaking point, what comes next?

cw: switches between past and present tense, mentions of food/eating, lots of angst, eddie is an idiot but we love him, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’

author’s note: just wanted to say thank you all so much for the love on part one! i’m so excited to be sharing more of this story. part three is in the works and should be out in the next couple of weeks :) thank you again for giving my story a chance, it means so much to me.

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

The droning, repetitive sound of the cash register’s scanner is giving Eddie a migraine. Beep. A sweater is thrown into a bag. Beep. Some cooking utensils. Beep. A toy truck and a Barbie doll.

The impatient face of the woman who stands before him only makes him want to move slower, and she scowls when he “accidentally” purposefully drops one of her items to the floor.

“Oops!” he says, giving her a fake innocent grin, shrugging dramatically before he bends down to pick it up. He debates how feasible it would be to fake a stroke or a heart attack or something while he’s down here, but ultimately decides against it and stands straight again.

Beep. He scans a tie with green and red stripes on it, presumably for the less-than-amused husband who stands at the woman's side, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else.

He can hear the woman’s foot tapping on the waxy floors beneath them, her arms crossed over her chest and her checkbook clutched in one hand. He gives her her final total, watching as she scrawls her pristine cursive writing onto the thin piece of paper before handing it to him. He hands her several bags once the transaction is finished, pressing his lips into a tight line when she yanks them from his grip in a less-than-pleasant manner. The husband follows absentmindedly like a puppy on a leash, paying absolutely no mind to Eddie whatsoever. He might as well not have even been there.

“Happy Holidays to you, too,” he says, perhaps a bit too loud as they walk away.

Sighing, he leans onto the countertop in front of him, pressing his face into his open palms. The store’s speakers play a consistent loop of popular Christmas music, and Eddie thinks he’s heard The Chipmunk Song enough times today to last him the rest of his life. The squeaky voices of the fictional rodents ring out through the decorated space, eliciting laughter from children who can’t help but sing along.

There’s been a non-stop wave of shoppers over the past couple of weeks, and it only seems to be getting worse the closer it gets to the holiday. People in Chicago aren’t friendly about it, either. Everyone seems to be going about their lives transactionally, angry and frustrated that they have to be picking up gifts and baking cookies and wrapping boxes in the first place. Eddie isn’t used to it.

Back in Hawkins, everyone was cheerful around Christmas. The otherwise quiet town seemed to light up in December, bringing even the grumpiest of residents out of the woodwork to celebrate. The funny thing is, he never thought he'd miss it. Never imagined he'd yearn for that town, for that community. But there's a lot of things that hadn't gone according to his plan, so what's one more on that list?

Eddie can feel his name tag poking his skin through his shirt, his argyle sweater that was so impossibly opposite to his taste in fashion but that was strongly recommended by his boss; "to look put-together", he'd been told. And so he'd picked out a few "nice" outfits, for nothing if not to keep his damn job. But the material of the sweater makes his skin itch, and paired with the too-bright lights and the too-repetitive music, this job was a sensory hellhole. The smell of over-priced perfume is engrained into his nostrils at this point, and Eddie literally winces as he catches a customer spray a cloud of the fragrance out of a sample bottle.

He rolls his eyes as Donna, head of the fragrance department, dishes out her usual sales-pitch to the clueless man that stands before her, utterly and devastatingly unsure of what to get the lady in his life for Christmas. I could never be that clueless, Eddie thinks to himself, I know how to get a good gift.

And then, his heart aches as he stares blankly at the man holding two different perfume bottles in each hand. Because he remembers that the last real gift he'd bought was for you.

December 5th, 1988.

The mall was packed full of holiday shoppers, everyone in a mad rush to find the perfect gifts for each person on their lists. Eddie typically wasn't much of a shopper himself, really only coming to the mall to bother Dustin and Will at Scoops, but today was different. You wanted to start getting your shopping out of the way, and didn’t want to go alone, so of course Eddie was going to tag along. He’d been spending every possible second he could with you, running errands or getting food or seeing a movie. Even just hanging out at your apartment or his trailer. With you, everything seemed magical. Every item you picked up and marveled at in each store, every Christmas song you sang along to, it was all shiny and wonderful because it was associated with you.

You currently have him at a jewelry store, looking into a glass case filled with glittering gold and silver accessories. Some of which probably cost, individually, more than all of his possessions combined. A low whistle leaves his mouth before he hears you chirp beside him.

“Eddie! Look at this one!” you coo, pointing eagerly at a flashy necklace that sits in the case.

He’s at your side in an instant, looking where your finger directs him. His eyes land on a dazzling pendant, adorned with jewels that sparkle glamorously.

“Oh, Nancy would love this,” you muse, taking a closer look at the price tag. “I could get this for her… or I could tell Robin about it so she could get it for her. I don’t know, is it too much if I get Nancy a necklace?” you debate out loud, making Eddie smile at how flat-out adorable you are.

He loves your heart, the way you always think about your friends. You truly aren’t looking for a thing for yourself, you just want to get your friends the best gifts possible, physical objects that remind them of your gratitude for them.

“I don’t think it’s too much. Or, why don’t you give Robin a call so you can ask her straight up? Here, use the pay phone,” he offers, pulling some quarters from his pocket and handing them to you.

“You’re right, that’s the easiest idea,” you say with a cute little relieved laugh. “Wait here, I’ll be back in like, fifteen.”

He gives you a little salute with two fingers, continuing to glance around at the selection once you’ve left. His feet stop him instantly when his eyes catch a delicate gold necklace with a tiny heart-shaped pendant. It’s engraved with the letter M, and a card sits beside it that informs potential buyers that you can get it customized with any initial. It’s simple, exactly how you’d want it to be, but it’s far from ugly or bland.

Eddie knows immediately that he wants to get it for you, eyeing the price tag nervously before breathing a sigh of pure relief at the fact that it’s far more affordable than he’d have suspected. You’re the most special thing in his life, and it feels right to give you a piece of him. His initial, to wear on your neck, so you can keep him close at all times. His stomach does a little flip of excitement at his idea, and he’s grateful you’ve left him alone so he can keep this a surprise.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says to the worker after you’ve left. “I’d like to get this one, please. Engraved with an E.”

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

He's pulled from his melancholy daze by another customer snapping their fingers in his face, polished nails standing out at the tips of slender fingers.

"Hello? Anybody home?" the woman asks, chewing her gum too exaggeratedly for Eddie to be able to take her seriously. "Are you too stupid to understand me or what?"

Yeah. It's going to be a long rest of his shift.

•

Cars roll past on the busy streets as Eddie makes his commute home, the holiday chaos evidently in full-swing on the outside of the department store, too. He winces as a car’s tires slosh through the slushy mixture collecting on the sides of the road, sending it splattering all over his coat. He sighs, moving off to the side of the sidewalk that’s furthest from the road, brushing half-melted snow off of himself.

His body is frigid with the cold, his eyes heavy with his incredible lack of sleep and his fatigue from the most draining shift at the world's most boring job. He trudges inside of his apartment building, the tall structure looming over the Chicago streets. The large Christmas tree in the lobby makes Eddie frown to himself, resurfacing that ache he’d felt at work. The ache that really hasn’t fully gone away since last Christmas. It’s always in the back of his mind, always tapping away at his heart, a dull soreness like a bruise that won’t heal.

“Oh shit, what’s goin’ on, Edwardio?” Eddie’s neighbor, Argyle, greets him as he climbs the stairs to his floor.

“Hey, man,” Eddie responds, feeling guilty at the monotony of his voice compared to cheerfulness of his acquaintance.

“You wanna come in for a smoke sesh? Just picked up some new stuff,” Argyle offers, sticking his thumb in the direction of his door as he grabs his keys from his pocket.

“Nah, man, not tonight. Some other time,” and then Eddie’s slinking into his apartment, shutting his door promptly behind him.

Eddie never turns down a smoke sesh.

Once fully inside, he throws his things haphazardly onto the ground. He couldn’t be bothered to care about where they land — his whole place is a mess. A reflection of his mental state. Soft wool fabric of his sweater is tossed onto his bed, traded for a t-shirt so well-loved it has holes in the neckline. He goes to his dining table as he tugs the shirt fully over his head, grabbing the phone off of the wall and anxiously curling the cord around his fingers as he dials a familiar number. It rings a few times before there’s an answer, each droning dial tone making him anxious.

“Hello?” he hears Robin’s voice ring out on the other end.

“Rob, hey, it’s me.”

“Eddie!” she says excitedly. “Guys, Eddie’s on the phone!” her voice sounds further away, and he knows she’s holding the phone away from her face as she calls out to whoever else is there.

Steve shouts his name and he smiles, hearing the commotion on the other end as other people shuffle towards Robin to try and grab the phone.

“How is everything? How are you?” Robin asks him, shushing Dustin as he begs her to let him say hi.

“I, uh, I’m alright. I miss you guys,” he says, resting his forehead on the heel of his palm. “How’s everything there?”

“We miss you too. Things are….” Robin pauses, and it makes Eddie’s stomach drop. “—They’re okay,” she finishes, but she sounds unsure; like there’s something she isn’t telling him.

“Who’s there with you right now? I know I heard Henderson and Steve,” he says, trying to force some happiness into his voice.

“Eddie! You’ll never believe how the D&D campaign is going!” Dustin says excitedly into the receiver, and he can hear Robin’s voice telling him to give it back.

“I bet it’s great, you’ll have to call me on your own sometime and tell me everything.”

“I definitely wi— HEY!” Dustin says, yelling as the phone is seemingly snatched from him.

“Give me the phone back, you turd! Okay, to answer your question…” Robin’s voice is back again. “It’s me, Nance, Jonathan, of course Steve and Dustin, and then, uh… Sunny,” she trails off, getting quieter at the end.

It hurts Eddie’s heart, the way she says your name softly like she doesn’t want you or him to hear it.

“Can I… can you put her on?” he tries, wanting so desperately to hear your voice.

You haven’t talked to him since Christmas Eve. Since the night he told you he was leaving. Every time he’d call home he couldn’t manage to get ahold of you. The one time he called your personal number, the second you’d said hello and he’d announced his presence, you’d hung up. Sometimes, when Eddie happens to call Steve or Robin or Nancy during a group hangout, they’ll tell him you aren’t there, but he knows it’s a lie. Not that it matters much anyway, because even the times they’re honest with him he’ll ask to speak to you and you’ll refuse.

It hurts him, how much you’ve distanced yourself. He obviously wanted you to move forward, but he’d hoped you could at least catch up every once in a while. How stupid he’d been to think that this was a fair thing to ask of you. How stupid he’d been to think the right decision was to leave you behind, the one person who he adored, who was right for him.

“Eddie…” Robin says on the other end, her voice wavering.

“Forget it. It’s okay,” he says, immediately looking to change the subject. “Look, I just wanted to check in and see how you guys were doing. I can let you go.”

“We miss you, Eddie. We’re always thinking of you,” Robin says, and he hears Nancy say a quick “love you!”

“Tell Wheeler I love her, too. I love all of you guys, okay? We’ll talk later.”

And then the call is over. The phone clicks into its place on the wall, and Eddie is alone again. Deafening silence rings in his ears, taunting him as he stares blankly at the wall in front of him.

If he’s honest, truly honest, nothing has been right since he left Hawkins. He tries to grin and bear it, to pretend like his shitty dead-end job is making him happy and that he made the correct decision moving here. But deep down, nearly this whole time, he’s known it was wrong.

Last December, he’d been at a breaking point, feeling like he was unwanted in Hawkins and like he was just a burden to you and everyone else. He’d genuinely convinced himself that you’d be better off without him, had it in his head that you’d move on with time and that you’d be okay in his absence.

He couldn’t be more wrong, but he wasn’t aware of how much you missed him. He didn’t think he was something worth missing.

December 16th, 1988.

Steaming hot plates of scrambled eggs and bacon are placed in front of you and Eddie, followed by two sides of toast with extra butter. Taking a tentative sip of his scalding coffee, Eddie’s eyes meet yours over the rim of his mug. You do a happy little wiggle in your seat, more than content to have a meal after your drinking session at Nancy’s the previous night. Eddie’s stomach was begging for food, and he knows you must be feeling the same way.

You waste no time digging in, and he watches you with a cute smile on his face as you raise your fork to your mouth, groaning when you take your first bite of eggs. You look ethereal, with your hair unbrushed and your mascara messy around your eyes, one of his big t-shirts on your frame beneath your winter coat. His smile falters, then, as he considers how perfect you are. How you’re effortlessly flawless, and how he doesn’t come close to deserving you.

You catch him staring, poking his wrist with the dull end of your fork and breaking him out of his thoughts.

“You can’t absorb my food just by watching me eat, you know that right?” you joke, smirking around your mouthful of toast.

“I can sure as hell try,” Eddie says, pressing his index and middle fingers to either side of his head, humming while he does it as if summoning the food to him.

You laugh, the brightest little sound, before you go back to eating as normal. You don’t see his smile fade yet again as he starts to pick at the food on his plate, his appetite suddenly dwindling.

The last week had taken its toll on Eddie, to say the least. This time of year always tended to be a bit hard on him, making him reminisce on the days when his mom was still alive and reminding him that his dead-beat father couldn’t be bothered to spend the holidays with his only son. Christmas was a time for family gatherings, and Eddie didn’t have family to gather with. He had you, and the rest of the friend group, and Wayne, but it just isn’t the same as having a complete and loving family. He found himself wishing for the Christmas-card picturesque familial comfort, and his heart ached at the lack of it.

Then, to bring his mood down even more, there was the incident at the grocery store. Just last night he’d been at the store with you, picking up some alcohol for the get together at Nancy’s. You’d been following close behind him as he’d roamed the aisles, your hand wrapped around his arm. Soft laughter and warm smiles were exchanged as you waited in the checkout line, inviting the eyes and judgments of onlookers.

“What a shame that poor girl got roped in with the Munson boy,” an older woman had said to her friend as they walked by. “She could do so much better than that…” she remarked, looking Eddie up and down in a way that could only be displeased. He met their eyes, only to have them turn up their noses in response and walk away.

You hadn’t heard the comments, had been too busy selecting a candy bar to snack on, your fingers sifting over crinkly paper before deciding on a Kit-Kat. Eddie tried to shake the stranger’s comment off, really he did, but he found his brain clouded with it. Sometimes he was so good at letting things roll off of his shoulders, but he’s felt it getting harder and harder. The whole night at Nancy’s, he couldn’t stop thinking about what the woman had said; couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at you like she pitied you, simply for being near him. The worst part is, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed people judging you and him together. Not even close. Everywhere he goes with you, he feels like he catches dirty looks.

It makes him feel like even more of a screw-up than he already does, simply adding to the emptiness that resides within his body. In his head, he feels like that woman at the supermarket was right. You could do better than him. Why did you bother with the town freak when you could have anyone?

“Hey,” you say now, blinking at him from across the sticky tabletop. Your voice is like a shining flashlight through the fog of his thoughts, bringing him out of the murkiness. “Are you alright? I thought you were starving,” you worry, concern etched into your facial features.

He looks down at his plate, realizing he’d been dancing his fork around the porcelain and stabbing mindlessly at the now-room-temperature eggs. He’d taken a single bite of his toast and nothing more.

“Did those eggs do something to you?” you ask, playing tough, trying to get a smile from him. “Do I need to teach them a lesson?”

“Yeah, actually, they called me some pretty mean names,” he joins in, rolling his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. You notice this, able to read him like a book, but you don’t press the issue.

Instead, you simply reach across the table, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. Squeezing yours in return, he tries to brush away the depressing thoughts that had berated him, and he eats his bacon and the rest of his toast before you both get up to leave. He knows he shouldn’t torture himself like this, but it’s hard not to when his whole life he’s felt like he wasn’t quite good enough.

When you arrive at your place, he walks you to the door of your building, ever the gentleman. Trying desperately to savor these moments with you without letting the town’s collective opinion of him ruin them. His heart flutters when your pretty eyes look up at him, your gentle fingers brushing against the sleeve of his coat.

“I don’t really want you to go,” you say, laughing a little but turning away as you do it, like you don’t quite want him to see.

“I don’t wanna go either. Hate leaving you,” he says, tilting his head to the side as he gives you a tiny pout.

You stand in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. The tension hangs thick in the air, and Eddie swears he could reach out and slice it with his fingernail. His heart thumps in his chest, he wonders if you can hear it from where you stand. And then, before he can truly even process it, you’re leaning in and he’s leaning in and then his lips are on yours and oh, god.

He’s never felt lips softer than yours, never felt sparks like the ones he feels right now. The kiss doesn’t last long, but in his mind it felt like he’d been frozen in that moment for hours. He can feel his cheeks flush when you’ve pulled away, but as he looks at you his heart just sinks.

You could do better than him. This is a mistake. He can’t let you do this to yourself.

He suddenly wants to sprint as far as he can away from you, he wants to curl up into a ball and hide away for eternity. He feels unstable, like the earth beneath him could crumble at any minute. His gut is telling him to leave, to go home and shut himself in to think. But at the same time, the way you look at him makes it so hard to go. You chew on your lip, giggling as he gives you a soft look and decisively tells you he has to get home. His breathing is a little shaky, and he hopes you didn’t notice.

“I’ll see you soon?” you ask, holding onto his arm.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

Your smile is persistent as you open the door to your building, waving at him through the small glass window. He offers a wave in return, before he turns heel and all but books it back to his van. He feels like he could collapse, like everything is crashing down around him.

To this town, he’s a fuck up, and maybe they’re all right. Maybe he needs to get out, to go somewhere where he can start fresh. Be someone new, not just a Munson.

His mental spiral only worsens as he drives to the trailer park, his thoughts racing in his mind. He hears principal Higgins from a few years back, he hears his neighbors, he hears the PTA moms all calling him a failure, a freak, a weirdo. A burden.

By the time he gets home, he feels like the answer to his problems is already decided. It’s been a slow boil over the course of the last week, a nagging thought that fades in and out of his brain. Now it’s finally coming to a head. There’s too many bad memories in this town, too many people that want him gone.

He needs to leave Hawkins. He needs to leave you.

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

Initially, right after he’d left, the gang had tried reasoning with him, begging him over grueling phone calls to just come home. He’d felt horrible about it, but he said no every time. He truly wanted to make something of himself, something that he felt Hawkins could never give him.

But then, getting his foot in the door in the music industry like he had hoped was not as easy as it was made out to be. The guy at the local recording studio had laughed at him when he’d inquired about booking a session to record a demo-tape. He’d laughed harder when Eddie had asked if the recording studio itself was hiring. He couldn’t even land a job at the local record store, and he felt like his failures were just piling up. His first job in the city had been at a small book store, but they ended up letting him go due to their lack of need for his help. Not enough foot traffic, the owner had said. Not worth keeping Eddie around for one shift a week, he’d grumbled.

He’d had several failed job interviews after, growing more and more frustrated after each one. Bills and other expenses were piling up with each passing day he spent jobless, and he guiltily accepted the little bit of money Wayne insisted on sending him to help him get by. He struggled along until he finally scored a job at the big department store down the street from his place. It wasn’t glamorous, by any means, but it paid the bills… barely.

That was another thing. His rent raised unexpectedly a couple months after his move, and he’s been living essentially paycheck to paycheck ever since.

He finds himself missing Hawkins more than he ever thought he would, and it kills him every day. More than anything, he misses you. Every day he thinks about you, yearns for you, wonders what you’re up to. Most of all, he thinks about that kiss. That single, stupid kiss that you’d shared. It had been earth shattering, and looking back he isn’t sure why that wasn’t his reason to stay. Instead, it pushed him further away.

His pride had gotten the best of him, not letting him admit defeat and move back to Indiana because he wanted to seem like he had everything figured out. He couldn’t stomach the thought of returning after a couple short months and looking like a failure to everyone. Frequent phone calls home to Wayne helped him stay sane, and he tried to keep his tone upbeat for his uncle but he should’ve known all along that the man knows him too well to buy it.

That’s why, when Eddie picks up the phone for the second time tonight and dials Wayne’s number, the man on the other end isn’t surprised to hear the way Eddie’s voice cracks or the sniffles that he tries to hide. It’s why he instantly requests that Eddie tell him what’s going on, because he just knows.

And Eddie pours his heart out.

“I can’t do it, Wayne. I can’t fucking do it,” he sniffs.

“Don’t talk like that, boy, what’s got you worked up?”

“I’m miserable here. I thought this was the right choice, but it couldn’t have been further from it.”

Wayne is silent on the other end, but Eddie can hear his steady, calm breathing. He keeps going.

“Sunny won’t talk to me, and— and I deserve that, but I miss her. I miss you, I miss my friends, I fucked up, Wayne,” Eddie’s voice is raw as he talks, frustrated tears streaming down his face. “Chicago is not what I wanted it to be. It didn’t create some magical new life for me. I have virtually nobody here that gives a shit.”

There’s silence again. In this moment Eddie is so wound up he almost snaps at his uncle, but then he doesn’t need to, because his voice comes through the line.

“So come home,” Wayne replies, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“What?”

“Come home. Book a flight and get your ass here, I’ll help you pay for it. There’s still time to make it by Christmas.”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off for Eddie, in that moment. Why can’t he just come home? What’s so hard about it? He’d been telling himself no, acting as though he had to stay in Chicago. But what was he running from?

Maybe he just needed that final push. Someone to tell him point-blank to cut the crap and come home. He should've been confiding in Wayne all along. And then it all falls into place, as Eddie stews in the realization that there’s nothing truly holding him back from going home except for himself. He’d created this narrative in his head; that he needed to leave Hawkins and that no one benefited from his presence. What if that was all… bullshit? He’s been forcing himself to stay in a city he hates… for what? He slumps back in his chair, letting Wayne’s words sink in, nodding his head slowly as he thinks.

By the time he gets in bed for the night, he knows what he has to do. He knows he’s made a lot of mistakes in his lifetime, but his worst one was leaving you. Settling in under his thick comforter, his stomach turns with anxiety and excitement. He barely sleeps a wink, but for once, he isn’t mad about it when he wakes up the following morning.

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

Eddie’s hands shake as he steps out of his cab, his breath shallow with his nerves. In a couple of short days he’d packed up his life in Chicago to leave this place behind for good. He’d left a note on Argyle’s door explaining his departure and thanking him for all of the smoke sessions, and he’d tossed his keys at the always-rude front-desk receptionist before walking out of that building for the last time.

He shuffles in through the revolving doors at the airport, hands nervously wringing around the strap to his duffel bag. Wayne had been right, of course, there was plenty of time to make it home for Christmas and Eddie had secured a flight to Indiana rather easily amidst the holiday craziness. He hadn’t told a single other soul he was coming home, and he knew Wayne certainly wouldn’t share the news without his permission. He wanted to surprise everybody, wanted to fix what he’d broken last year, and he could only hope that he would be welcomed by his friends. You were his biggest obstacle, the thing making him the most nervous, but he was more than ready to see your face again and to never let you go this time. Somehow, he’d make it right.

He takes a deep breath as he heads towards his gate, then another.

This is it. He’ll be home in Hawkins for Christmas.

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem @svbrbnlegends @eddiesxangel @munsonzgf @hereforshmut @eggo-segual @joannamuns9n @lavendermunson @leenameh @micheledawn1975

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #i’ll be home for christmas #support banner by cafekitsune

[tiredofthehumanlife]

A happy home (realizations pt 2)

Title looks like a Midwest emo song name dude 🙏give me strength

Barbie dolls: Jegulus x reader (James, Regulus, Your punk ass).

Words: 2.4k ish

Summary: Reggie is all like muh I don’t deserve love I’m just a poor peasant boy then he’s all like muh i should ignore all my friends bc I’m just a poor boy from the bourgeoisie and then you and James are like no 🥺 pookie and then hilarity ensues

Warnings: it's kinda angsty but it ends happy trust, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of Remus' dick, Harry Potter possibly mentioned, James has a mustache for about three sentences, regulus is all emo, its alright guys first one waa better ngl

Pt 1

After you and James used the classic kiss & run technique on Regulus, his mind was swamped with questions. Baby Black was having yet another crisis. Barty and Pandora had started a tally board marking up all his catastrophes. He was somewhere around the double digits at this point. Regulus wanted love, as any poor emo poetry loving teenager, but he felt he didn’t deserve love. He wanted. He wanted so much. Regulus wanted a house with a screeching screen door. He wanted a wrap around porch. He wanted beautiful tiles in his bathroom. He wanted nick nacks. A cluttered home is a house full of love and life. He wanted color in his home. Regulus’ parents’ house (attention to house not home) was cold. Regulus wanted a home. He thought of it frequently, planning the decor and colors. He would go to his little home in his head for comfort. After panic attacks he found himself pressed into a rocking chair, sitting on his wrap around porch and staring out at the beautiful garden in the backyard. His book open in his lap, his favorite pen between his fingers, tracing over his initials. Next to his chair was a small table with a mug full of his favorite tea.

With the more time he spent with you and James, he felt his fantasy home adapt. Suddenly when he visited he found your sweater flung over the back of his couch, James’ pictures on the wall. Which he could accept. Friends left their things at each others’ homes all the time. Friends made it onto each other’s walls frequently. He could handle your friendship infiltrating his home. Regulus appreciated you both no matter how much he threatened to kill you. It was his love language.

Regulus seemed to pull away. Suddenly you never saw him in the library, he didn't appear next to you, he didn't even hang out with Sirius and the others. He was actively avoiding you both. You tried to pretend you were wrong and just making things up. You knew it was true after you saw him in the Gryffindor commonroom again. 

But after you both kissed him, granted on the cheek, he malfunctioned. Regulus’ home changed rapidly. He was rocking in chair again, following the vines of the tomato plants with his eyes. His train of thought interrupted by the squeals of a small child. Regulus wondered what on earth was a child doing in his fantasy home. A small boy, no older than three or four, ran around the corner of Regulus’ porch. His little bare feet stomping on the wood. Regulus felt himself smile like nature. The boy was decked in jean overalls, a red shirt underneath. A small truck printed on the shirt was peaking out from under the edge of the overalls. He looked like James, Regulus realized. The boy heard louder footsteps following after him and squealed louder. The boy jumped into Regulus’ arms muttering something about ‘papa’. Regulus looked up from the boy to see James. Though now he had grown out his mustache, and wore matching overalls with the boy. James scooped the boy out of Regulus’ arms. James pecked Regulus’ cheek before dropping the three year old back to his feet. He ran off, zooming around the garden patches. James quickly went after him. James raced after the boy. They both laughed. The boy squealed when James caught him and tickled him. Regulus tore his eyes away when he felt someone touch his shoulder. He found you sitting next to him, in a matching rocking chair. You moved your hand up to his hair. You looked older, like James, not by much but enough for Regulus to know you all had left Hogwarts. You kissed Regulus on the lips gently. He felt warm. You leaned closer and leaned into his ear. You whispered to him that you loved him. Regulus felt his eyes prick with tears and his throat dry. You stood up and took his mug off the table. You walked away muttering about him drinking so much tea people will think you’re dehydrating him like a raisin.

It was change. Regulus didn’t like change and he didn’t like identifying his feelings. He couldn’t like you and he couldn’t like James. You were in a relationship. He can’t. He couldn’t. But he wanted. Regulus knew he wasn’t ever good at controlling his wants. So he avoided you and James. Regulus knew if he made eye contact he’d fall all over again. If he fell his heart home would be crushed. Regulus had to protect his home.

Regulus was sitting with Sirius. They were both talking and laughing comfortably. It was one of the few times you've seen Regulus without his journal in front of him. He caught sight of you standing at the steps of the Gryffindor commonroom. Regulus' smile fell and he quickly stood up. Regulus muttered something to Sirius before swinging his bag over his shoulder. As he breezed past you, you whispered a goodbye. He didn't return it, he didn't make eye contact, he ignored you entirely. Sirius had asked you what that was about but you just left the commonroom as silently as Regulus.

You brought it up with James. He was just as upset as you. The one thing you both feared was making Regulus uncomfortable and that's exactly what you had done. You and James had to have burned your trails into the floors with all your pacing but you decided on what to do. You'd confront him. Even though it seemed all Black relatives hated confrontation it was all you could do. You confront and apologize and beg him to come back to the group. You both missed his insults so much you felt sick. You looked for him everywhere. Days went by before you were finally able to find him. He was hunched over in the library. Regulus was sitting as far away from his regular table as possible. He was scribbling away in his journal, as usual. He glanced up when he noticed people approaching. Regulus quickly shut the journal and went to grab his bag.

"Please." James whispered. James sat in front of Regulus. You sat next to James. Regulus stared at the ceiling before gently letting his bag drop to the floor again. He sat back in his chair and rested his hands on top of his journal. You steeled yourself, clutching James’ hand under the table for support.

“We’re sorry. For everything. We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. We were just being-“ You paused. You wanted to make everything make sense to Regulus. You needed to explain yourself, you couldn’t live with yourself if you left this thread hanging. “Brainless. We were just trying to harmlessly flirt and we would’ve stopped the second we felt you uncomfortable. We misread you, obviously. We miss you. You’re avoiding us and the rest of our friends. We need you to come back. We’ll leave you alone, we won’t even look at you if that works for you, so long as you come back. So.” You stopped and cleanched your jaw. You felt like you might cry if you kept talking. Though you already seemed to do a lot of that. James dropped your hand to rub your shoulder.

“So, we’re so sorry.” James finished for you. Regulus stayed silent. He looked between you and James. You saw it in his eyes, hatred, disgust, repugnance. You felt sick to your stomach, knowing you’d only see his distaste in his eyes. Never seeing all of Regulus in his eyes again, made your throat close and tears collect in your eyes. You pressed your hand against your mouth, looking away from him. You would not cry in front of him. You would not make Regulus feel like this was his fault. James squeezed your shoulder, moving his soothing hand to your back.

“I’m not good.” Regulus whispered. You quickly looked at him. How could he think that? He was staring down at his journal. Regulus squeezed his own hands, you knew his rings must’ve hurt. Regulus sucked in a sharp breath. “At speaking how I feel. I usually avoid it. I’d rather sit in silence than speak up.” He looked up. His eyes had tears like yours. You hadn’t made eye contact with James since before speaking but you assumed he was probably teary eyed as well. Regulus slid his closed journal to the middle of the table. He stood and pulled his bag over his shoulder. Regulus tapped on the table with his pen twice.

“Just return it.” Regulus whispered before leaving the library. You watched him walk away. You looked to James. Your tears had left leaving behind pure confusion.

“Did we just get told to go fuck our selves in poetry nerd?” You asked James. He looked just as confused as you. He glanced at the journal.

“He did say he’s bad at saying his feelings, maybe he wants us to read his feelings.” You stared down the journal. It was bound in black leather. A small string wrapped around it thrice. It was unsuspecting. You didn’t want to read it though. That felt wrong, going into Regulus’ private brain like that. He was constantly writing. His deepest darkest thoughts, you assumed. You once sneaked a peak at Sirius’ diary and you truly never needed to know in that extreme of detail what Remus’ dick looked like. You looked to James. He stared at you. You pressed your lips together, contemplating. You gently picked up the journal, scared it would shatter under your fingertips. You unwound the string. You pulled the front cover up. You found the first page had Regulus’ initials. You smiled and held it toward James for him to see. He laughed and turned the page. You saw the pages were full of Regulus’ flowing handwriting. Overflowing really. The lines of his poems were pressed up against each other. His letters interning with each other like a lovers hold. If you weren’t already absolutely totally in love with him, you would’ve fallen more looking at his pretty messy letters.

The last poem made you melt entirely. Regulus started speaking of a cold home. All the walls stained with blood and screams. He moved. A nice home with a porch, a reading nook, painted walls, a coat rack, a garden in the back, and you. He moved into a home with his two lovers, their presence sweeping over every inch of the house. There was ding in the doorframe to your shared bedroom, James had pulled a dresser up the stairs and tried to squeeze it through the door. You had painted in small forgotten corners of the house. A sunflower on the side of one of the kitchen drawers, a moon added to the coat rack, a heart on the corner of Regulus’ bedside table. The back door was newer than the rest of the house, James had flung a snowball so hard one winter he shattered the glass. Regulus had started talking of the rocking chairs on the back porch. His sentence fell off, unfinished. You set his journal down, leaning back in your chair. James followed your lead. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. Baby Black liked you both back. Say that 5 times fast. You sighed. You stretched your arms over your head.

“McGonagall did say we needed 20 minutes of reading everyday.” You whispered to James. He nodded and pulled the journal closer between you two. You both held onto it with one hand leaning closer to each other to read Regulus’ writing. You read and read and read and read. Regulus wrote so much he had to get new journals fairly regularly. This journal started a few days before meeting Sirius’ friends. The fast few pages were Regulus stressed with his workload. After that there was the first mention of you. Regulus spent a whole page explaining how gorgeous he found you. He spent another page after talking all about how handsome and beautiful James was. All of which you agreed with.

After that all his pages were dedicated to you two. Slowly as you worked through the pages together, and the candles around you melted, Regulus fell in love. His words were frillier. He spoke of a garden, and tea. Regulus told all about laying in field of flowers. He painted images of you three deep in love and extremely domestic. Regulus wrote of pain. The pain of knowing it could never be reciprocated, you were already with James and James was with you. The pain feeling every touch warm his heart before burning his skin with his own insecurities. He wrote how the kiss situation felt for him. All roses and sunshine until his own sick mind turned it against him, making him think it was all some big joke on him.

“We are really bad at reading people.” James muttered. You gasped and sat forward. Glad somebody said it.

“Right?!? Oh god we just can’t catch a break.” You clicked your tongue. James gently closed Regulus’ journal, wrapping the string around three times. You huffed and stood up. You and James left the Library, it was closing soon anyway. You both decided you had enough time before curfew to go to Regulus.

You returned his journal. Regulus stood in front of you staring and waiting. You and James let it all out. Laughing at your stupidity, apologizing for making him feel like he was some joke even if it was only for a few minutes, and confessing that a wrap around porch and back garden sounded perfect. Regulus was happy. He smiled at you both before telling you curfew was sneaking up behind you. James decided you three would get together and make plans on how to move forward with your relationship on Saturday in the courtyard. Regulus agreed. As you and James were heading off towards your own common rooms, Regulus called your names. He ran over to you from his commonroom door. He quickly kissed your cheek before James’. Regulus skittered off back to his commonroom without a second to spare. You smiled brightly at James. He returned the look. He intertwined your hands, swinging them back and forth. James started skipping down the hall, still holding onto your hand. You joined him. You were both carefree

You didn’t have anything to realize. You already knew you loved them both.

#jegulus x reader #jegulus #james fleamont potter #james potter x regulus black #trans james potter #james potter x reader #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black x #regulus black #regulus black x reader #trans regulus #james loves regulus #regulus deserved better #the marauders era #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[hypersonic04]

'Tis The Damn Season

I know it's only september, but i just love writing christmas one shots so much lol. i hope you all love this because it was so comforting and cosy to write!!

word count: 3,574

Your boots crunch in the snow, muffled in the emptiness of the path you were dragging your suitcase down. You check your watch - half past two. You'd promised to be there by 1 o'clock, but work had kept you at your desk in London for an extra couple of hours.

If only they hadn't chosen a cottage in the middle of nowhere to be the family Christmas destination.

It was tradition: every year, on the 24th of December, everyone descended on your mother's best friends' cottage, hidden out in the snowy countryside. Fond memories of opening presents with your brothers and her sons, building their newly gifted race car tracks and trying to fit your Barbie dolls in their monster trucks. Now, though, things are different, evenings spent drinking wine and listening to how successful your brother's business is, rather than playing Monopoly and falling asleep on a 15 year old Ross Macdonald's shoulder. You cringe to yourself even now as you remember how clumsy and awkward you were - he was a couple of years older than you, and you vividly remember listening to him shyly talk about his band at the Christmas dinner table, cheeks turning pink and yours even pinker when he met your graceless, 14-year-old-crush gaze. You'd seen his success, and you were immeasurably proud of him, but there was always something that made your heart ache, seeing him on magazines and at awards shows, and knowing that your distant childhood memories were that, really: distant.

You almost cry with happiness when you spot the house in the distance. Your pace quickens, dragging the hefty suitcase along behind you. The sky is unbelievably clear and blue, the air crisp with December cold, a scarf wrapped around your neck and tucked into your coat. Your boots are rubbing at your ankles, your nose red and freezing - opening the door to the cottage you've been to every Christmas of your life has never felt as joyous as it does right now.

A room full of warm, lit up faces.

"She's here!"

The room glows with love. You're engulfed in hugs, kisses to your rosy, cold cheeks, your mum taking your scarf from you and a glass of mulled wine shoved into your hand. The Christmas tree stands in the corner, familiar ornaments hanging there like they'd been up since the previous year. You were the last person to arrive, one of your brothers sat on the sofa, Ross' brother attempting to kindle the fire, your other brother having an in depth chat with Ross' dad about Formula 1.

"You're freezing cold, my girl," Bella, your mother's friend, holds your hands in hers, "how have you been?"

She moves to hold you at arms length, looking at you like she did when you were a little girl. A fondness in her eyes, warm and homely, a sense of knowing.

"I'm okay! You know, busy with work and everything." Smiling at her, you squeeze her hands gently. Her eyes linger on you for a few seconds, lips forming a line.

"Well, you look as gorgeous as ever, darling." She tucks a curl behind your ear, tilting her head a little.

The creak of the stairs is what draws you away from her indistinguishable expression.

He's wearing a maroon knit sweater, dark wash, blue jeans, white socks padding down the staircase. His hair is what makes you swallow heavily, pulled back into a bun and his beard seemingly darker and a little longer than last time. He ducks his head under the beam when he reaches the last step.

"I've sorted the spare room, Mum-"

His face softens when he sees you. His mouth agape a little, stopping mid-sentence, the corners of his mouth curling upwards softly. He stutters over his words for a second before a string of 'hello's' and 'didn't know you'd got here's tumbled out of his mouth.

You can't hold back the smile that graces your face at the sight of him. It's Ross.

His mum steps to the side for a second as he makes his way over, raising her eyebrows at your mum like gossiping teenagers. You know exactly what they're insinuating, the same thing they've insinuated every year since you were about 13.

He smiles at you so softly, eyes creasing in the corner as he leans down to give you a hug. One arm wrapped around you shoulders, the other around your back, yours around his waist. The fabric of his sweater is so soft under your touch, his aftershave pleasant as you inhale gently. Closing your eyes for a second, you allow yourself to slot into his hold, the familiar pair of arms around you warming you up more than any fireplace or red wine ever could.

"What time did you get here?" He says, pulling away from you and shoving a hand into his pocket, the other coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

"About five minutes ago, I was running late anyway, but then the taxi driver wouldn't drive any further down the footpath." You laugh lightly.

"I'd have come to give you a hand if I'd have known, sorry, I-" He has an apologetic expression, eyebrows raising a little.

"No, it's fine!" You frown a little with a shake of your head, "I had no signal anyway, wouldn't have been able to ring you."

He nods in agreement, rolling his eyes, "I ask them all the time why they picked to live in the middle of a field." He laughs.

"Ross, did you take the turkey out of the freezer earlier?" His mum calls to him, the sound of her in the kitchen filling both your ears and nostrils, the delicious smell of Bella's famous Christmas Eve feast filling the room. He purses his lips, eyes going wide and a giggle escaping your lips, hand coming over your mouth.

"Shit." He laughs boyishly, "Didn't you ask Dad to do that?" He calls after her, walking off into the kitchen.

You stand there for a second, the grin on your face immovable, arms folded over your stomach.

"What are you smiling at, hm?" Your eldest brother raises his eyebrows at you teasingly, picking up your suitcase for you.

"Shut up." You huff, rolling your eyes in classic younger sister fashion.

The teasing about your crush on Ross had been a constant in your life. You'd never explicitly told anyone about it, but the way you reacted when they'd bring him up in conversation was enough.

"He's single, you know?" He mumbles as you follow him upstairs, into your spare room.

"Who's single?" You play dumb, keeping your eyes on the floor as he turns his head to you, scoffing.

"Oh, give it a rest. You bloody know who."

Setting your suitcase on the bed, he leaves you to unpack and get settled. It's the same room you stayed in every year - a singular, rectangular window overlooking the front garden, flowered wallpaper at Bella's persistence, her excuse being that she never had girls. The light blue bedspread brings back memories of Christmas mornings gone by, the boys waking you up because you were always the last one awake. Your mind wanders as you unpack, setting sweaters and mini skirts and sparkly New Years' dresses on the bed, so the tap at the door takes you by surprise.

"Sorry, 'didn't mean to make you jump." Ross stands in the doorway, greeting you with a creased grin.

"Oh, it's fine." You laugh softly, awkwardly even, playing with the hem of the pyjama bottoms in your hand. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I was just wondering if you fancied going to the pub later? Rob said it's a pub quiz or something, thought you'd like it."

"Sure, yeah. I'll come." You nod with a sweet smile, watching as he nods back at you with pursed lips.

"We're leaving in about an hour, so..." His voice trails off a little, and you notice how his eyes move up and down your figure, blinking profusely. You suddenly feel conscious, standing there in a pair of old mom jeans and the most basic of t shirts, something you'd thrown on in a hurry. Christ knows what your hair looks like.

His eyes linger for a second, dropping down to the suitcase laid out flat on the bed. A smirk graces his lips, before turning on his heel and heading back downstairs, his footsteps light on the wooden floorboards. Your cheeks flush bright red when you turn back to the open suitcase - a pair of your laciest knickers, black with little frills on the sides, placed almost perfectly in his eye line, right next to a matching red pair. You stand for a second with your lips pulled inwards, closing your eyes. That did not just happen.

Post-unpacking, you head back downstairs and try to pretend that Ross seeing your underwear isn't the only thing consuming your mind. Everyone's sat around the living room, some Christmas special on the television, the faintest falling of snow like a picture through the window. It's getting darker, the warm glow of Bella's fairy lights in every nook and cranny bathing the cottage in the most festive light. It's freezing outside, but the company in the house makes it the warmest it's been all year.

Coats and scarves are donned, boots pulled on and hats on heads. It's the five of us, and the familiarity and nostalgia of it makes me feel warm. I look at their faces for a second, older yet the memories of our youth peeking through their boyish smiles and loud laughs.

"Be careful, you lot, it's really coming down now." Your mum looks through the kitchen window.

"And remember your key, Ross. I don't want you waking us up at God knows what time."

"Mum, I'm 34 years old, I've got my key." He rolls his eyes with a laugh, his mum fondly hitting his fleece-covered arm.

Your mum was right, the snow was really coming down now.

"Shit." You mumble as you stumble down the path a little, boots sticking in the snow.

The boys are a bit further ahead, as per usual, but Ross hangs back when he sees you struggling. He looks to them for a second, like he wants to tell them to wait for you both, but he decides against it.

"Shouldn't have worn those boots, you know. Docs are rubbish in the snow." He says, holding his hand out to you as you near him. You take it gladly, the material of your gloves sticking together. His hold is firm, keeping you stable.

"Alright, 'dad', bloody hell." You tease, the sound of his laugh heavenly.

"Sorry, sorry." He smiles, glancing down at you. He grins at the way the snowflakes settle in your hair, watching as you brush them off your eyelashes. "Always walking off and leaving us." He gestures to the three of them ahead.

"Some things never change, hm?"

"Yeah, I guess not."

He looks down at you for a second and you meet his gaze. There's something unspoken there, some ulterior meaning. He runs his thumb over your gloved hand, and you rest your head on his arm affectionately, feeling him squeeze your hand. There's a smile on both of your faces, knowing, just like his mum earlier.

"How's things with the band?" You ask after lifting your head from his bicep, looking up at him.

"Good, yeah. Really good." There's a look on his face that you don't always see when you're all sat around talking about work. He seems truly content, proud. "You should come and see us play. We're on tour in February."

Your face lights up at the suggestion and his stomach twists, the way your eyes widen and lips curve upwards making him toasty in the cold of the snow. It's darker now, street lamps lighting the path as you all trundle down it, but the glow that seems to exist when you're together is brighter than any of them.

"That would be wonderful." You smile sweetly and hold his arm with your other hand.

The boys wait up for you, and you find yourselves suddenly letting go of each other. They roll their eyes, surprised that the two of you are still keeping up with the 'we're totally not in love with each other' act.

The pub is bustling when you get there. Groups of friends who have evidently been day drinking laughing loudly, couples stood in dimly lit corners, music playing over the speakers. It's trimmed up with garlands and wreaths on every door, candles lit at every table. Ross heads to the bar whilst the rest of you find a table to sit at. You take the booth seat, as does Ross when he returns with five pints and a packet of peanuts, your favourite.

You do the quiz, and despite not winning, you treat yourself to a shot in the excuse of it being Christmas. Time passes on, people recommending songs and the night slowly turning into karaoke. You laugh into Ross' arm, slowly getting closer and closer to each other throughout the night until you're pressed into each other's side.

"I think I might go back, I'm shattered." Ross' brother yawns, your own nodding in agreement. You frown a little, looking at your still half full pint from the round that you'd payed for.

"We can stay, if you want." Ross nudges your side, your faces inches apart. "We're going to stay until y/n's finished her pint, lads."

They look between each other for a second before nodding in agreement, exchanging hugs with you and a brief "get back safe" before leaving. Your youngest brother pushes the door open with his back, giving you a thumbs up as he leaves, immediately making you roll your eyes at him.

"Do you want to stay for one more?" Ross asks as he watches you drink your current pint. You open your mouth and close it again, nodding perhaps a little too eagerly.

You never want the night to end. The rest of the evening is spent giggling together like teenagers over things that happened years ago, talking about past failed relationships, and everything in between. His arm is around you, the occasional kiss to your forehead or a hold of his hand.

"He didn't deserve you, y/n." He looks down at you with raised eyebrows and lips pulled inwards. "I knew it from the second I met him."

"Did you really?" You wince at the thought of everyone around you being able to see that your boyfriend is a dickhead, but you.

"Mhm, hated him. That was the worst Christmas of my life."

"Jesus Christ, Ross. I don't think he was that bad!" You laugh loudly and he shakes his head.

"What, watching him all over you for a week? Torture."

It takes you by surprise, and you can tell he's shocked at his bravery when he tales a rather large gulp of beer. You analyse his face for a second, a look of what might be panic on his face. He meets your gaze for a second before averting his eyes back to the dodgy singer doing a rendition of Last Christmas.

"Well, I never really liked any of your girlfriends, either." You quip, watching as he relaxes a little, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh, really? Which one?" He cocks his head upwards, looking at you with intrigue.

"What was she called, the really tall one? She pretended I didn't exist the whole time I was here, Ross."

"Oh, yeah..." He scrunches his nose up, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, it was ages ago." You shrug.

You sit in silence for a few seconds, both of you pretending to watch karaoke, but rather pondering what the other had just said.

"I don't think I'd like any of your boyfriends, y/n." He says suddenly, looking at you intensely. You try to read his mind, to see if he's actually just said what you'd heard.

"Why's that?" You frown.

"You know why." He scoffs. Your eye contact is intense, immovable, the brown of his eyes almost like a honey colour in the light of the pub. Your eyes flick down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. You've been close to things like this before with him, sat perhaps a little too close together on the sofa on Boxing Day, or sharing a cigarette outside on the seat swing when everyone else is asleep, but never like this.

"I don't know why, Ross." You play dumb, the faintest smirk forming on your lips. He watches your mouth as it curves, his own mirroring you.

"Don't be like this." He laughs airily, his arm along the back of your seat, body tilted towards you.

The call for last orders takes you both out of your moment, almost like coming back down to Earth.

"We should probably go home."

"Yeah, you're right."

You stumble out of the pub, the snow still falling gently, your bellies warm from the alcohol and company.

"Come on, you." He teases, hooking his arm through yours.

"If I remember right, I think it was you that nearly decked it last time we went out, so I should be looking after you, really." You giggle, watching as he groans a bit, shaking his head.

"Why are you bringing that up, seriously?" He laughs, admiring how funny you find the memory.

"Wasn't it about here, as well?" You point at the street.

"Oh, give it a rest." He holds the hand that's hooked through his arm.

The walk back seems to take forever, the two of you laughing loudly and being silly, the smile on your face the biggest all year. The lights are still on when you get home, the cottage glowing like a beacon in the dark, white-covered field.

"Do you ever miss being at home? You know, when it looks so pretty, like this." You ask, walking hand in hand, a little drunkenly.

"I mean, sometimes. I think it's more about missing the people and what being at home usually means. Y'know, being with my mum and dad, and you and everyone."

You come to a halt on the path leading up to the house, turning to him for a second. He's illuminated by the warmth of the house, his coat zipped up right around his neck, cheeks rosy and eyes drowsy.

"Can't we just pretend for the weekend, Ross?" You look at him pleadingly and he frowns.

"Pretend what?"

"Like we're not terrified of ruining everything. Just for one Christmas, can't we just pretend that we're not scared of what might happen?"

He looks at you for a second, his eyes scanning over your face for some kind of secret, hidden message.

"Are you sure?"

You nod, your brow down-turned for a second as you worry that you have, in fact, ruined everything.

The kiss he places on your lips proves that wrong. He holds your face in both hands, yours firmly wrapped around his wrists, leaning into his kiss. It's even better than you ever dreamed of. It's warm, and gentle, and perfect. His eyes are starry when he pulls away, dazed even, and your heart feels as though it could burst.

"Can we stay together tonight?" He says lowly, faces inches apart and still resting in the tenderness of his hands. You hum with a nod, following him onto the porch and into the house. Bella must've left the lights on, because everyone's asleep. It's silent, TV off and bedroom doors shut, and it's like you're teenagers sneaking around.

You head upstairs and change into the checked pyjamas you'd bought especially for Christmas Eve. Looking in the mirror, your cheeks are full and aglow, curls soaked from the snow that'd melted.

The familiar knock at your door doesn't startle you this time. He's wearing a t-shirt and plaid bottoms, his hands on your hips already comfortable. He walks you back towards the bed, the backs of your legs hitting it and his hold keeping you steady. You can feel him smiling as he kisses you, pulling away for a second.

"I can't even tell you how much I've thought about this." He whispers, looking down at your lips. You run your hands through his hair, now down and making your stomach twist in ways you didn't know it could.

"Me too." You whisper back.

The opening of a bedroom door and feet in the hallway makes you freeze on the spot. Your eyes widen when the bathroom door opens, the room next to your bedroom, whilst his crease in muffled laughter. You hit his shoulder, hiding your face in his chest. The two of you stand silence until the footsteps have gone back the way they came and doors are closed.

"Oh my god." You sigh, shaking your head with a laugh.

The two of you settle in the single bed in your room, his warm hands under your pyjama top, calloused and rough fingertips against your smooth skin. It feels like making up for lost time, lost touches, nights when you've slept in an empty bed and wondered whether he's thinking of you too.

And although it's the same room you've always slept in for Christmas, the same bed sheets, its the warmest bed you've ever known that evening.

#ross macdonald #the 1975 #1975 band #fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #matty the 1975 #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine

[tortoisebore]

IDK IF YOU’RE STILL DOING THIS BUT!

How would wolfstar act during Barbenheimer? Who wants to see what? How are they dressed?

EEEEEEE i am ALWAYS doing these ALWAYS i love them so much 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 ((i have some unanswered ones in my inbox i promise im getting to don’t worry 💕💓💞💖))

okay first off we’ve established that they’re both insufferable wanna-be film critics & everyone hates them for it. so keep that in the background. they’re annoying as hell.

so they get wind of oppenheimer first. the teaser plays at a midnight screening of “nope” ((sirius is a jordan peele stan)) and it’s just a bunch of fire and black and white shots of cillian murphy so they’re both like “🙂 huh okay fun.” but then christopher nolan’s name is on the screen and sirius is nearly flying out of his seat bc he’s potentially the world’s biggest chris nolan stan. and he’s hitting remus on the arm and he’s all “👹 FUC K! !!!” and remus is like “oh good another nolan movie that’ll be fun love that” and enduring sirius’ semi-quiet fangirl moment but then he catches on to what the trailer is actually about and “oppenheimer” comes on the end card and then he’s ALSO having a freakout moment & he’s all “oh fuck 😧😧😧 oh fuck it’s oppenheimer 🫢 oh fuck 😵 oh fuck cheistopher nolan’s doing oppenheimer 😵‍💫😵‍ oh god.”

so for the next couple of months they’re both telling all their friends “yes so we’ve heard the inside scoop about nolan’s new film, very ambitious, word on the street is that it’s all practical & the b*mb isn’t CGI” and “did u know that christopher nolan himself created an atom b*mb on set to 1/36th scale” like they’re just making shit up from these random reddit threads & illegitimate news sites and everyone’s like “yeah great okay sure no one cares 🙄”

but then fall rolls around & remus overhears someone on the actual street talking on the phone about a barbie movie. and he does a little google and there it is, greta gerwig is doing a barbie movie with margot robbie, and holy shit sirius is going to freak ((he’s also a greta gerwig stan, they both are, obvi. sirius’ favorite of hers is ladybird and remus’ fav is little women, also obvi)). remus makes the mistake of sending sirius the article ab the movie in a text instead of in person where he could have done some damage control and he immediately gets a facetime where sirius just screeches at him for a good three and a half minutes before a single coherent word comes out of his mouth. so yes, he’s very excited for barbie, and remus is excited for greta gerwig to make everyone cry over a doll.

so they know about the movies separately and then the barbenheimer phenomenon takes over, and they become aware that not only are both movies coming out in july, they’re coming out on the same fucking day. and when they find this out they’re at home on separate sides of the apartment and marlene texts in the gc like “are we doing barbenheimer weekend orrrr” and they both take a minute to catch up but then they’re meeting in the living room like WHATTTTT😵😵😵😵😵😵

they plan a whole weekend. on saturday morning remus gets up early and makes waffles in the heart-shaped waffle maker sirius found months ago specifically for barbenheimer weekend breakfast and even puts red food coloring in the batter so they’re pink hearts with whipped cream and cherries to top it all off. and they do black coffee to drink because it gives oppenheimer vibes & they couldn’t think of anything else appetizing to go with it in a breakfast scenario.

they’re going comfort over style for the premiere bc they’re ab to be at the theater for like seven or eight hours, but sirius is wearing a hot pink malibu barbie baby tee for the occasion. remus is ✨not✨ wearing hot pink bc he’s a ✨warm autumn✨ & it’s ✨not✨ his color but he made sure sirius took one of his sweaters bc he always gets cold at movies and complains he’s freezing until remus gives him his own & that is “not happening this time, sirius, get your own fucking sweater.”

they’re doing barbie first. they got the tickets the second they went on sale, two seats in the middle of the row ⅔ of the way back into the theater bc that’s where sound designers sit for screenings & it’s a perfect view. they get their giant sodas and a big popcorn to share, plus some m&ms they snuck in to do an m&m/popcorn mix ((god tier movie snack fr)). they’re enraptured from the very first scene. giant barbie on a desert background. barbieland. the dream house. ryan gosling. all of it. it’s a masterpiece. they both cry at the end & they’re caught off guard bc wtf this wasn’t supposed to be about mothers??? what the hell???

they have a forty-five minute break between movies where they recover in the lobby for a while & refill the popcorn, but they’re getting one water bottle to share this time bc bathroom breaks are not an option & oppenheimer has like a three and a half hour fucking runtime. like they’re doing bathroom breaks twenty seconds before the movie starts bc missing part of this film would actually destroy them psychologically

they do it in IMAX, obvi, ⅔ back in the middle of the row. it’s an out of body experience. they don’t speak or move the entire time. they don’t speak or move while the credits play. they leave the theater in silence. they go home and sit on the couch and stare at the wall and remus goes “we……we should have seen barbie last.” and then they both look at each other like 😐👀? and then they’re getting up and rushing back to the theater and seeing barbie again

the next day they’re getting together with all their friends to do barbenheimer day 2 and trying not to spoil it but they’ve already talked to each other about the individual movies too much, like they laid in bed and talked about the fucking movies like idiots for multiple hours, so they need new feedback to talk over & correct everyone’s wrong opinions

and like obviously everyone hates them

#u ask tortoise answers #anon #tortoise writes a novel ab an ask for no reason #i just saw barbie today #cried my fuckin head off

[emmabirb8]

I haven't even drawn these dorks yet, and here I am cranking out full-fledged OOAK ⅙ scale Nandermo dolls. (You know the WWDITS obsession is real when I break down and customize some Barbies. 😆)

Now I have my own Nandor whose hair I can brush every night, and a Guillermo whose nose I can boop. :P

These were SO FUN to make!! For Nandor I used the "Signature Looks" Ken doll with long brunette hair as a base, and for Guillermo I used Mattel's "Wild Hearts Crew" Jacy Masters doll as a base (this doll is wonderfully unique on its own - it's shorter than your standard Barbie and the sculpt is actually curvey!)

Nandor was easier in terms of body and hair since he’s taller (and more conventional) and the doll came with nice silky dark hair that I simply had to chop a bit shorter and re-style to fit. And I was able to use the chopped pieces of hair for his beard later, so that worked out well.

Guillermo was trickier since I was working with a female body to begin with, but by shrinking the head in pure acetone solution to make it more proportional, along with some additions of apoxie sculpt to the torso and face and a completely different hairdo, I think I was able to pull off a nice likeness that works for a short and stocky character. ❤️

Both dolls received complete face repaints of course, and their outfits are comprised of things I already had on hand plus stuff I bought on Etsy that I customized with supplies from the craft store. (Shoutout to CraftsDepot2017 for Guillermo’s white shirt, Love2KnitDollClothes for Guillermo’s sweater, MySweetDollBoutique for Nandor’s cape, and RosepetalCafe for both Nandor and Guillermo’s pants! I am immensely grateful for your effort, esp since I don’t have a working sewing machine.) I wasn't going for any specific outfit for either of them, I just wanted to give them clothes that looked like things they would wear based on their respective styles. Nandor's outfit was especially fun to decorate, and I dressed him in red bc that color has always suited him well imo.

For this particular project, I must give credit to some of the YouTube doll customizers I’ve been watching over the past couple of years whose detailed process videos helped me A LOT with the techniques and supplies I used - Dollightful, Seasonal Frostbite, HeXtian, and Poppen Atelier. Please check them out sometime! They are absolutely amazing artists!!!

If you have any questions about my process for these, please don't hesitate to ask! And as always, please enjoy!! 😊

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits #wwdits fanart #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #nandermo #ooak #ooakdoll #ooak doll #custom dolls #barbies #ooakcustom #ooakrepaint #doll repaint #nandermo dolls #crafts #harvey guillen #kayvan novak #the jacy masters doll was perfect for memo #her skin tone was just right and i didn't have to alter the butt at all #so harvey would be glad to know his gorgeous derriere is well represented #lmao #also sadly no fangs for nandor but i still think he looks good #also also i had a really difficult time trying to pose them kissing one-handed so i could take the pics lol #so those ones don't look that great but it's mostly for shits n giggles anyway #i can make them kiss anytime i want and NO ONE CAN STOP ME #my posts #my art

[pinkbrries]

— A–Z with June —

[find hannah’s version here] | [find izabella’s version here] | june’s masterlist

➤ A is for… after experiencing “feelings” i’ve decided that this just isn’t for me, but thank you for the opportunity

➤ B is for… *talking to heeseung* bro your vibes are so cool and you’re amazing… hold my hand bro

➤ C is for… call it whatever you want: an ‘accident’ or a ‘near death experience’ but the truth is: that was a vibe check from god

➤ D is for… dude, at this point? i think the easiest way to feel ‘wanted’ is to simply rob a bank / [jake looking at her with concern] noona, don’t

➤ E is for… everyone here must know that it’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink

➤ F is for… fortunately for me but unfortunately for my company, i will keep doing whatever i want

➤ G is for… *looking at the i-land cameras* good morning! … but at what cost

➤ H is for… *reading a weird comment on vlive* haha yeah–uhm, babygirl… there is something obviously wrong with your brain… haha

➤ I is for… i suck at flirting, i end up fighting with them instead:/

➤ J is for… just so everyone know, this is my emotional support song, so nope, i won’t change it

➤ K is for… kisses? the only person that deserve my kisses is kim sunoo<3

➤ L is for… *trying to imitate jake* LETS GAUUUUURRRR

➤ M is for… mmh yeah, i’m not going to wear my contacts anymore, i’ve seen enough

➤ N is for… next time i’m opening to someone is during my autopsy

➤ O is for… okay but whoever has my voodoo doll, please kiss its forehead, i need it

➤ P is for… *’02 liners nagging at june because she won a game* [june looking behind the camera] pd-nim! they simply hate to see a girl boss winning

➤ Q is for… *during her solo vlive* question here engenes: do you ever want to just yell in someone’s face to date you? because same

➤ R is for… *singing at jay* row row row your boat, far away from me~

➤ S is for… sometimes it’s you and your cute comfy oversized sweater against the world and that’s okay

➤ T is for… *winks at the sky* this is for the aliens

➤ U is for… *reading a comment* ‘unnie, can you recommend me some musicals?’ yeah, i really like musicals but like, the real good musicals, for example the barbie movies–

➤ V is for… velvet? oh, as red velvet sunbaenim! [starts dancing ‘red flavor’ out of the blue]

➤ W is for… what can i say? i’m charming and irresponsible– i mean– irresistible;)

➤ X is for… *reading a math question in weekly idol* x+2y+6– wait a minute, JUNE! [raises her hand] THAT’S A TXT SUNBAENIM’S SONG! / [mc’s start laughing] no june, this is an actual math problem / oh…

➤ Y is for… you say you have a crush on a boy, but is he kim hongjoong sunbaenim? min yoongi sunbaenim? jeon wonwoo sunbaenim? because if he’s not, then thank you, next

➤ Z is for… zebras are so cool though, they didn’t want to be normal horses so they decided on painting stripes on theirselves… good for them

#enhypen 8th member #enhypen oc #enhypen au #enhypen female oc #enhypen female member #enhypen female addition #enhypen addition #enhypen #kpop female addition #kpop addition #kpop added member

[queerbuckleys]

STITCH BY STITCH [1.1k | future fic | established relationship] {ao3} a/n: @djdangerlove made this post and well, you all should know how i feel about sewing, so i typed this thing entirely on my phone. it turned soft and gooey established relationship sweetness. oh! and i gave buck a dog, she’s a golden retriever puppy named bailey (i don’t know how old, i don’t know anything. about dogs other than they are soft and cute). anywho enjoy :)

“Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that – one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right like the embroidery.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes

when eddie looks up from the couch as the door swings open and buck makes his way around the door, he didn’t expect for his eyes to fall on buck’s face with a harried look in his eye, his curls free and wild the way he leaves them on their days off, his worn shorts that live at the bottom of his dresser as a last resort, and a well loved sweatshirt he swore he lost to the wiles of the station lost and found ages ago- the cuffs torn and unraveling, the hood trying to escape the confines of being attached to the rest. finally his eyes land on the teddy bear clutched in buck’s hand, it looks tiny in his hand, trembling a little.

“buck, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asks gently as he gets up to make his way to where buck has frozen in place.

the tears are just about to fill over the brim and buck just lifts the bear further up. there’s a tear in the red sweater and a small hole threatening the integrity of one of its limbs.

“bailey got a hold of it when i wasn’t looking. jee is going to shun me forever,” buck finally says voice raw. “and i, i didn’t know what else to do.”

“okay, well first- this is fixable. go sit and i’ll grab my emergency sewing kit and get you some water. i’ll be right back,” eddie says squeezing bucks empty hand, bring buck’s knuckles to his lips lightly.

he finds the comprehensive sewing kit that abuela had triple checked he had before she moved to texas, and always asks about at least every other phone call.

as his hands wrap around the little hand made bag he remembers the days he would sit next to abuela carefully studying her hand movements, eventually helping her with small repairs, reattaching buttons and the sort. how adriana and sophia started bringing him their barbie clothes that they ripped when they inevitably were too forceful trying to pull the delicate clothes over the hard plastic of their doll’s bodies. how he would tell his dad that it was all in the name of someday being a doctor. and he had perfected those tiny sutures, leaving the tiny clothes looking nearly as good as new. how eventually his mom would bring him a shirt and a button every few weeks until he left home.

he’s back in the living room, buck ending up on the floor, back against the couch like he sometimes did. the floor being superior for some reason that he didn’t quite all the way understand. he’s holding the teddy in both his hands, staring down at it.

he remembers sitting on their couch in el paso, patching a pair of jeans, sewing a few buttons. chris sitting next him watching him more than the children’s tv show dancing across the screen.

eddie settles in, carefully threads a needle and gently takes the bear from bucks hands, and removes the small sweater and sets it aside. buck hooks his chin over his knee and watches with a familiar intention, following each hand movement with intense focus, his tongue poking out in concentration. eddie imagines if he had a notebook and a pen he would be writing it all down.

he finishes the half dozen stitches, knots off the thread, and clips the tail with the small stork scissors, and hands it back to buck, who holds it like it’s glass, thumb hovering over the nearly invisible seam. the awe written across his face looking from the bear to eddie. his eyes settle on eddie’s hands again as he holds the small sweater in his hands.

“i remember when she was barely bigger than that,” he says softly, “she was so tiny. now she’s almost four.”

“imagine how i feel about chris,” eddie replies, his voice pensive as he studies the small sleeve, pinching the seam together again.

buck’s hand drifts to eddie’s other knee, his thumb ghosting over his knee cap.

the unsaid question floating like a cloud between them.

eddie carefully stitches the seam. his mind wandering to the tiny clothes that filled a tiny dresser in el paso what feels like a lifetime ago.

he finishes fixing the small hole. and just stares at the tiny clothing.

“you think it’ll be weird for chris? being so much older than a sibling?” the question slips out softly before he can capture it.

buck freezes, places the bear on the floor carefully, stands on his knees, his hands resting on eddie’s thighs.

“fuck, i’m sorry i just dropped that on you when it’s barely been 6 months. god i’m-“

“eddie, eddie, honey,” buck rushes gently moving a hand to eddie’s cheek, “it’s okay. i was thinking the same thing.”

“you were?

“yeah, i figure we just ask him ya know? he’s a teenager. besides, i think he’d be all for it. and i mean maddie’s much older than me, and we are close, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“i’m not worried about any of it really.”

“not about us?” he ducks his head a little, “about me?”

“buck, baby. never has there been a day since i told you about our son’s existence that i have questioned your ability to love and cherish every child in your life, and i have witnessed you grow into being a wonderful father to chris, and a partner to me. evan,” and he looks as small and as young as he did the day he first called him by his name, “you have grown into your own beyond your wildest dreams i’m sure- you are good enough.”

“you are one of the reasons that’s true. and eddie, so are you. so are you.”

“but we’re a couple years away from all that.”

“yeah. yeah we are.”

a soft silence wraps around them for a moment, forehead to forehead, just breathing.

“give me the bear. you take this to maddie and chim’s, pick up bailey, while i pick chris up from school, and meet us at the park. then we will have our usual movie night okay?”

“yeah, okay. that sounds good.”

eddie finished buttoning the tiny sweater on to the bear, patting its chest carefully. he runs a hand through buck’ curls and places the bear back in his hands.

p.s. why i included the tidbit about the stork scissors

#911 #911fic #buddie #buddiefantiction #evan buckley #eddie diaz #aj writes stuff #usermoonlight #bitchhans #tuserksn #tusercourty #tuserzee #thatbuddie #userceecee #usersharky #usercombat #useroliii #useryb #tagnic #userweres

[ruru0803]

Playground Rivals: Ken x Fem Reader

Chapter 4

"I stay up too late. Got nothing in my brain."

Raquelle taps her fingers against the wheel in rhythm with the song.

"That's what people say. That's what people say."

"Mmm Mmm."

"That's what people say."

"Mmm Mmm."

Ken starts shimming in the back seat doing his silly faces again.

"But I keep cruising, Can't"

"Stop."

"Won't"

"Stop."

"Moving. It's like I got this music, In my mind saying it's gonna be alright."

Raquelle motions for everyone to join her and Barbie in the song.

"Cause the players gonna..."

"Play."

"Play."

"Play."

"Play."

Raquelle smiles, eyes still on the road as they drive further and further away from Barbieland.

"And the haters gonna..."

"Hate."

"Hate."

"Hate."

"Hate?"

Ryan nods along with the song and Y/n starts rocking along with Ken and the beat.

And so Barbie, Ken, the twins and Y/n set off on their adventure to the real world.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

The five tried their best to fit in Barbie's tiny pink boat. They had all wore a matching set, Ken and Barbie had on a pink and white shirt, white pants and matching hats and the trio wore the same outfit but in black and purple, Raquelle wore her shades while the other two wore hats.

Barbie smiled happy to be the one at the wheel this time, Ken and Y/n sat as close to each other as possible not minding the situation really, and Raquelle rubbed Ryan's back as he mimics hurling in the water, the sea sickness getting to him. The plastic ocean faded into real life waters.

"Ugh. How much longer?"

"Just a few more steps to go."

"Ugh."

He leans into his twin sister.

"Just don't hurl on my shoes."

A dolphin dives in front of the boat and Ken gets scared by a pigeon cowering in the other doll's arms.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Suddenly the group was in space, the girls sat on the ship. Everyone was in a space suit.

Ken and Ryan were flying off, The other two girls tried to grab on to the boys that were trying desperately not to float away, Barbie remained unaware of what was happening behind her.

"Hold me Y/n."

"I'm trying..."

"Don't let me go."

"I'm not."

Y/n holds onto Ken's hand as best as she could for how long the ride would be.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Somehow they found a group bike with five seats on it. The trio wore some biking gear along with outfits to match Barbie and Ken.

Barbie was in the front again, Ryan behind her, Raquelle behind him, Y/n behind her and Ken at the end.

They all paddled as hard as they could, Ken started to lose breath but smiled when everyone turned to check on him, giving a thumbs up. Y/n smiles at him, making a kissy face before turning back to face the front.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

They were all outside of Barbie's camping van. Barbie wore a white dress shirt and red pants, Ken wore an inverse of the outfit. The trio wore black hoodies with red sweat pants, the girls' hoodies were cropped.

"Hi."

Barbie waved at Ken and Y/n who were hanging up clothes to dry as she walked to sit in one of the lawn chairs next to the twins, who were miming eating s'mores. Ken just chuckles at her before turning to the doll next to him and kissing her cheek when the others weren't looking.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Raquelle found two snow vehicles, she made Barbie and Ryan share one with her, Barbie asked to share one with Y/n but Raquelle was adamant on her sharing one with Ken.

"I'm driving this time."

"No fair you drove the car."

"Awe."

Ken snuggled into Y/n. The two smiled at each other as the others bickered.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Finally the ice melts away and the group skate onto a beach. Y/n holds onto Ken since she couldn't skate.

Barbie and Ken wore matching neon outfits that were a mix of blue, pink, and yellow. Raquelle wore a blue cropped shirt with a lilac cropped sweater on top with blue denim shorts; her red shades on top of her head, Ryan and Y/n wore deep purple sweaters and blue jeans.

Everyone looked around in wonder, the sand wasn't pink, the water was fully real, the sun was hot on their skin, it was so different...

"Guys..."

"Wow!!"

"Yes!!"

"Not too fast Ken."

Y/n wobbled a little and started pulling the other doll closer.

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

The waves were coming in strong, people walked towards them with surf boards, there were a few guys playing basketball, and people dancing around in the street.

"Wow this is the real world."

Y/n smiled as a girl looked at her up and down.

"Barbie, I told you there'd be beach."

Ken smiles proudly, happy to be right about something. Barbie smiles and nods at him.

"Yeah."

Suddenly it got a little tense in the air. Y/n started fidgeting a little, there was a lot of guys watching her in the same way the girl before was but this time it wasn't just directed towards her. She could see that Barbie and Raquelle also looked affected by it.

Raquelle started to glare at the guys, not wanting to show fear, Barbie was the opposite.

"Anyone else feeling this weird tension in the air."

Ken looks at her worried then pulls the doll beside him and wraps his arms around her. Barbie looks confused about the display, Ryan steps in front of his twin sister, giving Ken an nod of approval.

People start whistling and catcalling at the dolls, others laugh about their outfits.

Ken frowns at them not liking how they were looking at the woman he liked or his friends. Ryan looked like he wanted to punch someone.

But then some guys started giving Ken approving looks and thumbs ups and he started to feel conflicted.

He starts to smile a little but stops when Ryan turns in his direction looking at his other sister.

"What's going on?"

"Give us a smile, Blondie."

"Oh, don't hog all the ladies."

"I would like to take a bit of that."

Y/n cringes knowing it was directed at her.

"Why are these men looking at us?"

"They're also staring at us."

He motions to him and Ryan. The (h/c) haired doll didn't like how happy he sounded saying that.

But then some other guys started to look at Ken differently and that same feeling she felt at Weird Barbie's house came back and it made Y/n more upset.

"Ohh, love that."

Y/n pulls Ken into her tighter as if they weren't super close already. Ken smiles down at the doll liking the attention from her.

"Wow."

"I feel kind of ill at ease. Like... I don't know the word for it but I'm conscious, but it's myself I'm conscious of."

The other four dolls knew what she meant, they felt it everyday.

"I'm not getting any of that here, I feel what could only be described as admired, but not ogled and there's no undertone of violence."

"Mine very much has an undertone of violence."

"If anyone comes too close there might be some violence."

Ryan glares as another guy checks out his sisters.

"Oh look an construction site. We need that good feminine energy."

She tries to skate towards it but Raquelle holds her back.

"Wait before we leave."

Raquelle points towards the snow cone machine she's been eyeing the whole time.

"I want one of those snow ball things."

She grabs her sister's and Ken's arm and pulls them over to it leaving Ryan and Barbie to stare awkwardly at each other.

"So...the human world?"

Barbie nods.

"It... different."

Barbie nods again.

The other three dolls stop by the snow cone machine. Behind the machine was an older man and a guy that they looked to be the same age as. He was tan, he had curly brown hair and brown eyes to match, the guy next to him seemed like a carbon copy but older and with a beard. Raquelle paused slightly admiring the guy in front of her.

Y/n and Ken look at each other, The (h/c) haired doll smirks and Ken's eyebrows raise slightly a amused smile on his lips as the two check the other out.

"Don't worry dad, I can take them. Go rest up."

The older man pats the younger one on the back then heads off in search for water. The remaining guy smiles at the brunette girl in front of him.

"What can I do ya for?"

"I was wanting one of your snow balls."

The guy cringes with a smile still on his face.

"Excuse me."

"Your snow balls."

She points to the picture of the different snow cone colors on the stand.

"I wanted to try one, I've never had it before."

The guy chuckles when the brunette girl's eyes light up as he scoops some ice into a paper cone.

"What flavor?"

Raquelle squats to get a better look at the picture, tapping her chin as she thinks on it.

"Can I have blue raspberry?"

He pours the syrup on the ice and handing it to the girl before looking up towards the other people.

"Your friends?"

"My sister and her boyfriend."

Ken blushed at that and starts playing with his fingers, the other doll starts rubbing her hands together but looked flustered by the statement.

"Any specific flavors you guys want?"

"Strawberry please."

"Watermelon."

He hands them their snow cones before turning his gaze back on Raquelle.

"It's on the house."

"What house?"

The guy chuckles again, shaking his head.

"It's an expression it means it's free."

He smiles at Raquelle causing a grin to form on her face.

"Guys c'mon!!"

"Well, see ya."

Raquelle nods a dazed look in her eye, Ken picks her up and starts walking back towards the others.

Once they make it to the others Ken puts her down and Y/n hands him his snow cone.

"What, None for us?"

Raquelle takes a long lick from hers, savoring the taste and then hands it to Ryan to share. Barbie looks at Ken's snow cone before making eye contact with him. Ken sighs handing it to her making a smile form on her face, Y/n then shares with Ken not wanting him to be left out of having said treat.

The group started walking to the construction site Barbie pointed out. There were guys sitting down on a lunch break that instantly started sexualizing them as they walked up.

"I don't know exactly what you meant with all of those little quips, but I'm picking up on some sort of entendre, which appears to be double."

The others nod along with her words. Ken squints at the dudes.

"And I would just like to inform you, We do not have a vagina."

She gestures towards all the girls, her statement makes Y/n accidentally drop her snow cone which she pouts about.

"And they don't have a penis."

She points to Ken and Ryan. Ryan looks around embarrassed not trying to make eye contact with anyone and Ken frowns feeling called out.

"We don't have genitals."

"That's okay."

Raquelle looks at the guy in disgust. Barbie smiles as if she told them off and skates away everyone following her one by one. Ken turns to the guys before leaving.

''I have a-all the genitals."

"Geez, you would think a construction site at lunch time would be the perfect place for a little woman power but this one was so...male."

Ken frowns a little he didn't know why he felt offended by the statement but he was.

"Everything is almost like... reversed here."

He smirks a little but stops when everyone turns towards him. Was he wrong for liking this world?

"Oh look! The supreme court."

Barbie points at a pageant board. Raquelle rolls her eyes at the picture, Ryan smirks at his sister and Y/n shakes her head at the reaction.

"They're so smart.''

"Yeah."

Two guys skate up towards them, one smacks Raquelle's butt and the other smacks Barbie's, Barbie quickly turns and punches the one that hit her but looked shocked at what she did however Raquelle throws her cone on the ground before kicking the guy in the balls and punching him in the throat. Y/n cheers her sister on, Ryan stops Ken from trying to stop the fight.

Ken nods as Ryan walks up and also starts beating up the dude, The cops quickly run up to the scene grabbing both dolls and having everyone walk to the police car.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Barbie looks scared as she holds up the sign with her name on it, she blinks rapidly when the light flashes. Ryan steps up with his name card and smiles big.

"Can you take another one? my right side is my best side."

Y/n looks around not really paying attention to the camera. Raquelle flips off the police officer taking the picture, copying what she saw the guy she beat up do.

"If I were you I would stop doing that."

Ken faces the left with a big smile on his face holding up his "and Ken" sign.

The cops scan everyone's finger prints, also sexualizing the girls before letting them go.

"I think we should get some different clothes."

"I agree."

"Second that."

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐⭐⭐

They all go inside the closest convenience store they could find. Looking around at all the different cowboy and cowgirl outfits. Ken's eyes lit up being in a store that had to do with his love of horses.

"Fashion Show!!"

Ken started it off. Switching into different outfits at the speed of light. His first outfit was a denim long sleeve shirt with white pants and a brown hat, everyone but Y/n said no to it. The second was a short sleeve brown shirt with blue jeans and a black hat again everyone but Y/n said no. Then it was a black and white long sleeve shirt with a gold vest and ripped blue jeans and black hat this time everyone agreed it wasn't for him. Then he wore a blue and white striped shirt with khaki shorts and everyone appreciated the outfit but still told him to change. Finally he came out wearing a black and white cowboy outfit with a white hat, it had fringe from the shoulders to the neck and he finished it off with a pink bandana tied around his neck, Everyone said yes, Y/n being the most vocal about it.

Barbie went next, she first wore a pink and white striped shirt, blue jeans and a gray sweater with glitter by the zipper, the others liked the outfit but still told her to change. Next she wore a striped shirt that started black and white then faded to pink and black at the bottom with brown pants and a leather jacket that had fur on it again cute but the others told her to switch again. Then she came out in a glitter gray shirt, light pink pants and a dark pink shirt.

"Where are you finding these clothes?"

Barbie just shrugs and changes for the final time into a dark pink denim cowgirl outfit and a white hat also finishing her look with a pink bandana around her neck. She smiles happy with her outfit and joins the others.

Raquelle and Ryan stand up and go searching for matching outfits. The first was a black and blue denim look, They wore a black shirt with blue denim jeans, Raquelle's was an off the shoulder look. The two do different poses as Y/n pretends like she's taking a picture of them.

"My turn, My turn."

Y/n looks around for a while, she wanted something different from the others. She came back in a blue denim jumper dress, it was in an ombre style dark blue at the top and light blue at the bottom. She spins around showing off the outfit, the others hyping her up.

"Okay!!"

"Queen!!"

"That's my sister!!"

"So hot!!"

She playfully rolls her eyes changing into a black shirt with a denim blue jacket and jean pants. Raquelle and Ryan give her a thumbs up, Barbie claps and Ken just looks at her adoringly.

She changes again into a blue top and a white skirt with a denim jacket and yellow hat. She shrugs it off and changes into another outfit that had a baby blue tank top and denim skirt it had fringe going from one hip to the bottom of the other side, it came with a pink and blue hand bag and some white and pink sneakers.

"Wow!!"

"So which one are you going with?"

Y/n thinks about it for a little before smiling and picking her favorite from the bunch.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Everyone exits the store.

"We look great."

"I love fringe."

"I love denim."

Ken starts shimming shaking the fringe on his shirt. Y/n smiles lovingly at him.

"Hahahaha."

"Alright let's go find whatever it is Barbie's looking for."

Someone comes out of the store looking for them.

"Hey, man. You guys gotta pay for that stuff."

"But it's on the house."

"Says who?"

Barbie taps Raquelle's shoulder and nods her head away in a different direction, Everyone takes off running away from the guy. He gives chase before calling the cops.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Y/n now sat outside of the police station waiting for the others to come out. She was able to slip away before getting caught but the others not so much. She looked up when the others finally came out, Ken quickly ran to her and pulled her in a hug.

"You won't believe it little sis, They gave me and Raquelle our headshots."

"How'd that happen?"

"A lot of begging."

"Weird Barbie said I would know how to find this girl."

Ken nods along listening intently to his blonde friend. Everyone walked farther and farther away from the police station.

"But I have no idea. What would a smart Barbie do?"

That caught Y/n and Raquelle's attention. Barbie didn't think she was smart? Of course she was.

"Don't say that about yourself, of course you're smart."

Barbie smiles a little shaking her head.

"Right, sorry."

"Maybe you just need to think."

"You're right. Just need to clear my mind so I can think."

Barbie sits down on the bench at the bus stop. She closes her eyes trying to clear her head. Ryan sits beside her and starts to fidget. Ken won't sit still, walking around everywhere.

"I hate it when people think. I get so bored."

Barbie looks at both of them annoyed.

"The faster I figure it out, the faster we get to go home."

"C'mon let's go do something..."

"This is boring... Barbie I'm bored."

Barbie sighs sending Y/n a pleading look. Raquelle rolls her eyes before hitting the back of both boys heads.

"Ouch."

"She stays doing that."

Both boys rub the back of their heads, Ken pouts and Ryan glares at his twin. Y/n pats both boys' shoulders trying to soothe them.

Ken moves closer to the other doll allowing himself to be babied by her.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Barbie gives Ken another annoyed look.

"Okay, let's go for a walk or something."

"By ourselves?"

"Yes."

"No."

"You got a better idea?"

"Yes, I'm coming too, I'm bored."

Raquelle rolls her eyes and Barbie sighs. She wanted the boys to go.

"You're embarrassing me right now."

"Where are we even supposed to go?"

"Anywhere."

"Can I go that way?"

"Yes."

The five of them get into an argument about what to do.

"Okay, Okay, Okay."

The four dolls look at her.

"How about this..."

#barbie #barbie 2023 #ken x reader #ken x you #margot robbie #raquelle barbie #nick jonas #ryan barbie #camila mendes #ryan gosling #ken x female reader #ken x y/n #Spotify

[marsh-potatoes]

to celebrate my year and how its gone i decided to draw me and my gfs ocs: loserville >u< !!!!!!

both one of my most intense and still going hyperfix and my biggest comfort of this year along with my gf,, i made sm happy memories braining up interactions and scenarios and clinking them together like barbie dolls.. they carried me to the start of this year all the way to the end, and even though my year wasnt Perfect, im so glad it happened qwq <3

and happy new year to you my love @greenes-artdump (aka the one who owns james (brownish red sweater) and dani (pink dress)) 💞💞💞💞

#loserville #ocs #oc #james #dani #citrus #cleve #doodle #sketch #gift art #gift #marsh draws

[grelleswife]

I was thinking about Yor and some posts i was seeing on my dash tldr I guess ppl were trying to desexuslize some characters but kept making their boobs small, and Yor is tbh a perfect desexualized big boob character, her clothes are drawn properly (no boob socks or skin tight clothes that don't make sense) and her assassin look is the only time I've seen her chest shown bc her outfit is fitted vs her regular 60s mod looks, also no jiggle physics, it takes so little to be respectful of big boobs and treat a character as a character and not cheese cake. And tbh my sapphic self sees her in that red sweater dress with the back exposed and Oooooooo now that's hot.

It’s refreshing to see a buxom character whose animation is catered towards showing her strength and agility rather than taking voyeuristic peeks at her cleavage every five seconds—no mind-bending boob physics required! 🙏 I’m also grateful that, unlike the stereotypical gross male anime protagonist, Loid treats Yor with respect, never groping her or leering at her boobs (the bar is in hell).

Interestingly, however, my experience scrolling through the top posts for Yor here and on Twitter has been the reverse of yours. Some fan artists have a distressing tendency to hit her with the “big-tiddy waifu” beam, warping her proportions with water-balloon breasts and a Barbie-doll waist. 😭 Though there’s plenty of art out there that does her character design justice, of course! 🖤

As a fellow sapphic and appreciator of tiddies, I, too, confess to looking respectfully at her in that beautiful outfit. 😍

#spy x family #yor forger

[deedoop]

Princess and the Freak

It was so easy falling in love with Chrissy.

She had that smile, a smile Eddie was pretty sure could honestly even make Oscar the Grouch smile. A smile that could woo and charm the hearts of men and burn them with ease. Somehow, Chrissy had chosen him, she could've had any man she wanted, but here she was, on his bed, listening to music with him.

Honestly? If you told Eddie he was dreaming? He'd believe it. He wouldn't blink twice. How does a freak like him get Chrissy Cunningham? How does a freak get the girl of his dreams over Jason Carter? These were questions best left to philosophers Eddie supposed.

He watched her chest rise and fall, her eyes drowsy, he watched her in the peace of his room, in the peace of quiet music, fall asleep. His heart panged softly, his mind full of impure thoughts. If Chrissy knew just how much of a freak he was? He didn't think she would stay.

He admired her, admired her for more than her smile, her laugh, though those were surely bonuses, he admired her for how beautiful a dress looked on her, how makeup could grace those lips, how easy and beautiful she was. He envied her. He wanted to be pretty, wanted to look in the mirror and smooth out a pleated skirt, to rub lip gloss against his chapped lips. Chrissy would leave him in a heartbeat if she knew. He knew it.

Eddie was conflicted, had been his whole life. Not quite feeling a boy nor a girl, he didn't have a word to describe it, he just knew somedays..he wished he could be as pretty as Chrissy Cunningham. Today was one of those days. He stared at her clothes, long since abandoned onto the messy floor of his bedroom, his heart panged with pure and utter guilt. He was such a freak.

He looked over, making sure one last time she was asleep before slowly getting out of the bed, grabbing her pink sweater and white skirt that laid intermixed with his own clothes. His heart pounded a little faster with nervousness and excitement. He looked over once more before staring into the mirror, slipping into the skirt. It was short on him, barely came to the middle of his thigh, it was tight too, but his breath was taken away as he stared at himself. Next came the sweater, looser and baggy.

Eddie stared at the mirror a long time, just breathing. Today she was pretty. She slowly took one of Chrissy's scrunchies, pulling her hair up into a pony tail. Eddie Munson felt like a barbie doll. Loved it. She couldn't help but smile, spinning around in her outfit. Some days, Eddie was he, other days Eddie was she, Eddie didn't have a word for it, but today Eddie was simply euphoric.

"Eddie?" Chrissy was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doin?" Eddie's heart dropped, eyes wide with fear.

"I-I uhm..just wanted to prank you." She stuttered out, her heart beating out of her chest, pretty sure her face was burning red, pretty sure she was a terrible liar. Her voice squeaked, her legs were shaking. Chrissy was just staring. Eddie almost begged Jesus Christ Himself to strike her down right where she stood.

"Eddie? What's going on?" Chrissy wasnt stupid, could see that her boyfriend was practically having a nervous breakdown. The cheerleader, stretched a moment before moving towards Eddie, cupping the face of the one she loved dearly. She helped Eddie to sit on the bed, rubbing the back of the metalhead she loved dearly. "Eddie. Is this a fetish th-"

"No." Eddie said firmly, hair crowding her face, she couldnt look at Chrissy, deep shame ebbed at her and knew this was the last time Chrissy Cunningham would love Eddie Munson.

"Eddie? Baby? Talk to me. Please?" Her voice was soft like cotton and oh so patient. Her warm small hand was rubbing the small of Eddie's back in comforting circles, her lips gently kissing the flesh of Eddie's neck.

It helped. Even though Eddie knew she was going to leave, her comfort helped. "Somedays..I feel like a boy. Somedays I feel like a girl. I don't know..why or if im just broken? I cant help it and I saw your clothes and every part of me just ached to be pretty. Just once."

Chrissy nodded, she was so patient, "So today you're a girl?" She asked gently, "Like I call you she?" And Eddie nodded stiffly, her eyes full on confusion as Chrissy moved over her lap, sitting. "Eddie? Look at me?" She gently tilted Eddie's face up, pressing a small kiss to her lips. "I love you. Nothing's going to change that. Maybe we can go drive to the mall up in East Bend and we can go clothes shopping for when you..well are a girl."

Eddie couldn't help but cry, wrapping her arms around Chrissy tight, Eddie loved her, loved her more than words could bare. "Why are you so fucking perfect?" Eddie asked softly, Chrissy's soft thumb wiping away the tears from her face. "Why are you perfect?" Chrissy asked back with a smile. "Cmon, lets go to bed yeah?" Eddie nodded, holding the one she loved close. For once, Eddie didn't feel like a freak, she felt euphoric.

#Genderfluid!Eddie #Eddie Munson #Chrissy Cunningham #Chrissy Cunningham is the greatest person to ever exist #I love her #i love her your honor #Hellcheer #edssy

[cassieuncaged]

Grave Bound - Chapter 16

Chapter 15

Summary: Maggie learns to live with a broken heart.

TW: angst, heartache, arguments, language, etc.

WC: 2.5 K

A/N: This chapter has a happy ending, promise. Also, only two more chapters to go!

Taglist:@roofgeese, @detectivelokis, @areyenotfondofmelobster, @poisonedtruth, @confidentandgood, @emotionalcadaver, @chadillacboseman

How long had she sobbed for? It felt like a century when Maggie had to finally peel herself from her bed. Hardly leaving the comfort of a cozy apartment, the woman listened to Joni Mitchell’s Blue on repeat. Maddy nuzzled against bare ankles as she sat despondently at the kitchen table. Life no longer felt serendipitous but unpredictable and terrifying.

Days bled together as the reminder she was alone slowly cemented into an injured heart. Attempts at contact were futile. The phone rang for an eternity before the line was disconnected. Elias stopped coming into the shop and his name had been removed from the buzzer outside of his building. It felt like he was a phantom that had dissipated into the night. She wanted to hold onto him against her, never letting go.

Love was elusive, difficult to uncover and practically impossible to keep. It was eternally fleeting.

Tears were long dried as another morning was prepared for. Oatmeal was picked at before a cold shower brought a droning body back to life. She felt like a corpse, ignoring the dull beat of her own heart. Wallowing continued as nurses whites were slipped on, followed by sneakers.

Blue eyes met a dejected reflection, saddened only by what she saw even further. Shoulders slumped before the daily drudge to the bus stop began.

……

“That son of a bitch,” Sharon smoked angrily a cigarette, brassy locks piled atop her head. Abby and Maura played with the cat as Maggie curled herself into the corner of the sofa.

“Son of a bitch,” the eldest of the two girls parroted.

“Only mommy gets to say that,” Shar warned, ash crumbling into a glass ashtray. “Jimmy’s beside himself too. We never would’ve set up the date if I knew what a sleaze the man was.”

“Elias isn’t a sleaze,” Maggie mumbled, eyes unfocused on the Barbie dolls that lay forgotten on the floor. “He had his reasons, I suppose.”

“But he didn’t give you any.” Her sister chided, pointing at the note that still sat on the coffee table. “The man even said he was running away with his tail between his legs.”

“He was scared,” Maggie reasoned, hugging her knees, “Elias didn’t want to hurt me. That was never the plan.”

“And yet…” the older woman was as wise as she was angry. Sharon believed no one deserved love and happiness more than her little sister. Yet, Maggie seemed destined to be alone. “Look, we’ll find you someone better. Someone who won’t-”

“Leave me in the middle of the night?” Maggie finished before sliding to the floor. Distracting the girls from an agitated Maddy, the cat was freed. She brushed the matted red hair of a Midge doll before handing it to Maura.

“She looks like you.” The girl pointed to the freckles dappling her aunt’s face, holding up the doll.

“I suppose she does,” Maggie grinned as tears glistened in blue eyes.

“You’re prettier,” the girl sat the doll down as her sister chewed on Barbie’s hand. Maura crawled onto her knees, wiping away the stray tears that sprinkled down ruddy cheeks. “Pretty girls don’t cry…”

“Sometimes they do,” Maggie sniffled, turning away. The little girl sat back on her knees, watching as the woman crumbled in on herself. Everything she’d held inside was finally seeping through the cracks.

“Is this because of Uncle Elias?” a head of auburn curls cocked to the side, “Because he’s gone?”

“Maura.” Sharon warned, urging the eldest to play with the infant currently slobbering on dolls. Sliding down on the floor next to Maggie, she drew the younger woman into one shoulder. Now the sobbing was uninhibited, tears staining a knit sweater. “It’ll get better. Every day is a chance to start over.”

Ginger curls bounced in agreement as the crying began to ebb. An uneasy silence washed over the room as a tree branch scratched the windows in the breeze. The phone began to ring in a cacophonous ardor.

“I’ll get it,” Sharon attempted to get up before a soft yet firm hand was pulling her back down.

“It’s alright, I can answer the phone.” Crawling to the far end of the sofa, the receiver was pulled to the lush rug as it toppled apart. Grappling for the yellow plastic, she suppressed her sobs before answering. “Hello?”

“I’m hopin’ I have the right number.” There was a familiar warmth on the other line, followed by a wholesome chuckle, “This a little slice of strawberry shortcake I got or did the operator fuck up?”

“King?” her voice cracked, happy to have found another friend. “Is that you?”

“Maggie May, the love of my life. I was afraid I wouldn’t get a hold of you.” He sighed; there was disembodied humming in the background. She hoped it was Diana. “How’s the big city, baby?”

“I’m from a big city,” she added flatly, “This is just the bigger city. I used to love it. Unfortunately, it’s gotten lonely lately.”

“That’s why I called,” there was another belabored sigh, “Your loverboy made a terrible mistake.”

“Is he alright?” she was suddenly frantic, worried that Elias had met the gruesome fate Sharon had angrily wished upon him. “Do you know where he is?”

“That son of a bitch is fine, don’t worry. He’s outside of Milwaukee. Muskego, Wisconsin. Ever heard of it?”

“Can’t say I have. The farthest west I’ve ever gotten was Cincinnati.” Maggie shrugged, trying to ignore the three sets of eyes on her back.

“Which is impressive considering how far east you made it.” There was another chuckle. “We opened a shop down on the west side of Lake Michigan. But good ole Elias hasn’t been himself. Can’t help but think you’re not feeling too much like yourself either.”

“I’ve been better…”

“Thought as much. I know you probably hate my man’s guts but-”

“I miss him.” She added somberly, “Do you know why he left me?”

“I do but it doesn’t make anymore sense than a bad riddle.” There was a long pause, “What would it take to get your pretty little self to visit him?”

“You mentioned, years ago that Diana made an angel food cake that tasted like heaven itself…”

“Drive a hard bargain.” She could practically feel his smile through the receiver, “Let me get you his address. This’ll be the best surprise the man’s ever gotten. He needs you, Maggie. Damn it, we all do.”

……

Elias flipped through the pages of Little Women, a well-loved copy Maggie had gifted him one morning over breakfast. There’d been no occasion other than the fact that it was her favorite story. He loved her ability to make everything special, even if it had been an ordinary Saturday morning.

Words blurred together as eyes unfocused on the same paragraph for the fifth time. It was hard to relax, to find any peace when his mind was elsewhere. Propping the book on his chest, he rubbed his eyes silently. Major yawned from the carpet.

Suddenly, cone shaped ears were alert. Slats on the porch groaned, proceeding the tentative knock at the door. The intrusion earned a sharp bark as the dog darted towards the sound, pawing at the paint chipped door.

“Calm down, buddy.” Elias was lazily pulling himself to his feet, trudging to push the creature out of the way. Prying the door open practically knocked all the air from his lungs. A ghost stood shivering in the brisk night. “Maggie…”

“Hi.” Ginger curls fluttered in the dim porchlight, a threadbare suitcase sat at her feet. Major yipped excitedly, circling the woman before zooming inside in a flash. “Hope you don’t mind a visitor?”

“Not at all.” He stuttered, flattening himself against the wall. She shuffled into the little hovel, awkwardly taking it in as Elias fetched the miniscule luggage. The living room was cozy, packed with oversized furniture, she was surprised how sparsely it was decorated. “How did you…”

“King called me.” The confession was admitted shyly as Maggie shrugged her coat off.

“Of course he did…” Taking a moment, he leaned against the archway as he basked in the woman’s presence. “What exactly did King say? That I was losing it?”

“That you weren’t yourself. You’re hair, it’s shorter.” she took a tentative seat on of the edge of the sofa. “Looks like it did years ago.”

“Decided to look clean and polished as a business owner. Well, co-owner.” Tendrils of hair fell in his brow as shy grin stretched across his face.

“I like it.” She gingerly studied the back of her old book sitting on the neighboring cushion, flipping open the front cover to find her note jotted on the inside. “My favorite. You’re reading it.”

“Reminds me of you.” Elias remained standing long after the door had been shut and bolted. Each hand was propped on jean clad hips. Major, unaware of any uneasiness, trotted over to sit at Maggie’s feet. “Suppose that’s why I kept it.”

“You missed me?” she arched a brow suspiciously.

“Missed you when I left.” He chuckled darkly, a heat rising up his cheeks.

“Then-” sitting upright from her perch, Maggie could feel a tightening at the center of her chest. She craved the answers he’d failed to give.

“Don’t. Please, don’t do this to me.” One hand pushed through thick locks.

“Don’t do this to you?” Pupils dilated in the lowlight, eyes wide with incredulity. “You left me in the middle of the night, Elias. Without an explanation. I deserve to know why. Even if it hurts.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Maggie.” Hands were shoved into pockets as the man padded across to an armchair.

“Too late.” She chided blearily, voice crackling as tears dripped down the curve of her nose. “It would have hurt less if you jammed a knife through my carotid.”

“Mags…” he warned, feeling sorrowful fingers of rage seep into his brain. Why open old wounds? Of course, he knew she deserved that much. But he wasn’t ready to relive the burgeoning grief again. “I was scared, alright?”

“Of me?” her heart rattled against her ribs. Had she driven him away? Was this her fault?

“God, no.” he sighed, rubbing at his eyes; anything to quell the moisture. “You’re my everything. But there was this part of mind convinced that you’d never be completely happy with me.”

“What if you’re the reason I was happy?” she bartered desperately, considering pulling him into her arms. But Maggie deigned to stay strong, if only for a second.

“Maggie, I’m a mechanic. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman: you deserve better. Someone that can give you everything.” A long finger rubbed at one temple.

“I’m a nurse.” She countered, “It’s not like I crave a luxurious life you can’t provide. I’d never expect that.”

“People change their minds.” Elias sighed, feeling bile creeping up his throat; why was he trying to sabotage himself?

“Don’t you dare decide my future for me. I’m not a child.” The woman spat, “I know what’s best for me.”

“You’d get bored, don’t worry.”

“What about everything we shared? What about everything back in Vietnam? The future we dreamt of?”

“That was different.” He added dryly, a mixture of rage and grief simmering in his chest.

“How?” she was desperate now, trying to find any point of reason.

“We were at war!” he roared, frustrated and incensed. “Sometimes words are just words to get you through another day. I didn’t think I’d actually get a chance to have a life with you.”

“Everything you said in Hawaii was all a…a lie?” Holding back a sob, the woman hugged herself. Did their time together mean absolutely nothing?

“No,” he sat on the edge of the chair, elbows rested on either knee. His own eyes began to glisten, soul shattering as he continued to push the love of his life away. She didn’t deserve this, to be berated and hurt even further yet. “It meant the entire world. I just-”

“This was a terrible idea.” Shaking hands wiped at blotchy eyes. Struggling to get her coat back on, a tearstained face shook sadly as Maggie ambled up to her feet. “I should go.”

“You didn’t drive.” He was on his on feet in an instant scampering after her as the front door was reached. Maggie pulled at the forlorn suitcase as the door was opened. Elias pushed the door closed.

He couldn’t lose her again.

“I’ll get a cab.” She turned around, realizing he was a foot away from her. It gave her a moment to study him. Tears had fallen down sharp cheek bones, trail sparkling from bloodshot eyes to the top of wide lips. She’d been sobbing so hard she hadn’t noticed he’d been doing the same.

“A cab? At ten o clock in rural Wisconsin?” He snorted, wiping at his nose.

“The city isn’t that far away; I’ll hitch.” Bloodshot eyes dropped shyly, studying slatted hardwood floor.

“Over my dead body.” Their eyes met in a heavy silence before a weathered palm was sliding over a soft cheek. “I’m sorry, about everything. Leaving you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

She reached up to wipe another tear away, grinning blearily before pressing her lips to his. Colliding like a meteor to earth, Elias allowed himself to devour her as he’d craved for so long. Soft as suede and sweet as sugar, he allowed himself to drown.

Maggie’s coat was pushed away as they grappled at each other. Small fists knotted in the collar of a flannel shirt as his own hands drifted to the small of sweater sheathed back. Slowly leading the way back into the meager dwelling, his mouth dropped hotly to a hard jawbone.

“Please,” she whimpered as his lips left a fiery trail of kisses down the column of a creamy throat, “Promise you’ll never leave me again.”

“Oh, Mags…” he murmured against her, slowly rising to meet her gaze once more. “I promise.”

Then he was guiding her into the bedroom, hand soft against his own. All he could imagine was making up for lost time as the door was pushed close with a thud.

……

Bodies latticed in moonlight, Maggie sighed contently as Elias brought his lips down each wrung of her spine before working his way back up to a head of wild curls. Her back was pressed to a solid chest, both draped in a sheet. Mouth resting on the curve of one freckled shoulder, a weathered hand slowly glided down a bare arm before enveloping the small hand laying limply on the mattress.

“I don’t deserve this.” he sighed into the crook of her neck.

“It’s not about what we deserve,” Maggie added sagely, eyes fixated on the heavy hanging moon. “It’s about how we feel. And I’ve always known how I’ve felt about you.”

“Tell me,” Elias pried, needing to hear the answer. Maggie grinned brightly over one shoulder, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Please.”

“I’ve always loved you.”

“Bullshit,” he grinned before burying his face in strawberry waves. She watched him for a moment, comfortable and at peace.

“It’s true, my sweet soldier.” Her voice was hardly a whisper, only to be met by another.

“Love you too, wild child.”

#fanfiction #otp fanfiction #otp: dog tags and flower crowns #maggie x elias #platoon 1986 #grave bound

[ateliermandaline]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Barbie Stacie Doll Slippers Pink Sweater Plastic Red Bows Rare Shoes Fits 8 Inch.

[marymerchandice]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NEW Happy Holidays Barbie 1997 Special Edition.

[shauntaakejasminjanyahwill]

shaunta katrie campbell - shaunta will:

shaunta say that all of shaunta possessons shauntaake treasures will be given to shaunta katrie campbell only living two legitimate daughters jasmin miya taylor & janyah mahagony taylor:

shaunta - all of shauntaa things that shauntaake own & possess now 

shaunta custom hand made shaunta art investments - shaunta hstory -  hstory paint chunks - jewelry - the devil artifacts - first world hstory - space hstory - heaven & hell - above & below - canvas - core littles shaunta paint ppl - collectables - value - 

$1trillion dollars

shaunta companys computer hard drive companys - value - $12,000,0000,000 million dollars 

vintage hstory hollywood movies - music - whole albums - concerts - documentarys - photos - tv series - tv shows - tv sitcoms investments plus shauntaake invesments in photography & video already labeled & organised files & folders 400 plus folders 

shaunta vintage tape cassettes - (shaunta masters) 1980′s - value -  $5,000,000,000 million dollars - 

shaunta kid voice - (shaunta 8 years old masters) - made tuns of shaunta hstory & shaunta image hstory

shaunta vintage tape cassettes (shaunta masters) 90′s - value - $8,000,000,000 million dollars

shaunta teenager voice - (shaunta 12 years old masters) (shaunta 14 years old masters) - made tuns of shaunta hstory & shauntaake image hstory

(shaunta sha masters) - (shaunta mahagony masters)

shaunta vintage tapes cassette - (shaunta masters) - 1997 - 1998 - value - $3,000,000,000 million dollars - 

shaunta teenager voice - (shauntaake/mahagony masters) 

shauntaake vintage teenager writings for shaunta music - (shaunta masters) - value - $1,000,000,000 million dollars 

shaunta vintage cd’s & digital - (shaunta masters) - 2004 - 2008 - value - $5,000,000,000 million dollars - 

shaunta early late age 20′s voice - (shaunta/mahagony masters) - (shaunta/mahagony lane masters) - made tuns of shaunta hstory & shaunta image hstory

shaunta vintage cd’s & digital - (shaunta masters) - 2011 - 2012 - 2013 - value - $8,000,000,000 million dollars 

shauntaake early age 30′s voice - (shauntaake masters)

cd barrels of cd’s & shauntaake whole digital collecton already labeled & organised 

shaunta furs - value 

shaunta custom made maple & black mink coat - $5,000 - now - $12,000 dollars 

shaunta white gray & black fox fur - $8,000 - now - $12,000,000,000 million dollars - original devil / tut design from shaunta acient pen walls - hstory -  parliment - twilight zone - rich hollywood movies 

shaunta custom made green beaver & chinchilla fur coat - $4,000 - $5,000,000,000 dollars - rarest fur find manifest - original design from shaunta acient pen walls 

shaunta tan fox fur - $2,000 - now - $4,000,000,000 - made tuns of shauntaake 90′s hstory 

shaunta custom mink vest - $2,000 - original 80′s mink fur 

shaunta custom pony fur shall - $1,200

shaunta fur bears:

shaunta custom hand stitched italian mink bear - value - $4,000

(minor repairs)

shaunta custom hand stitched italian sable bear - value - $4,000

(minor repairs)

shaunta coogi sweaters - value - (late 90′s purchases)

shaunta coogi sweater (custom hand tailor made) - pink - cream - baby sky blue - white - shaunta doll baby barbie & ken desgn phauts - coogi sweater dress - $1,200 - now - $1,000,000,000 million dollars

shaunta coogi sweater (custom hand tailor made ) - cream - maple - white -black -  shaunta doll baby barbie & ken desgn phauts - $1,200 - now - $1,000,000,000 millon dollars 

shaunta coogi sweater (acient egypt desgn - pyrmids) purple - blue turquoise & black - $800 - now - $1,000,000,000 million dollars

shaunta coogi sweaters - american money - turquoise - teal - green - cream black & white - $900 - now - $3,000,000,000 million dollars 

shaunta coogi sweater globe peach cream & white - doll baby desgn - $800 - now - $4,000,000 dollars

shaunta coogi sweater red white & blue - $800 - now - shaunta ken doll baby phauts - tonka - american flag - neechee - core - coogi sweater - $4,000,000,000 million dollars

shaunta coogi sweater american money cloth - $4,000

shaunta coats & jackets - value 

shaunta black leather express coat - $200 - now - 

shaunta faux leporade jacket - $100 - now - 

shaunta mustard cloth jacket - $80 - now 

shaunta purple jacket & skirt suit - $120 - now 

shaunta suede richmond jacket - $120 - now 

shauntaake custom made sky blue leather jacket - $400 - now 

shaunta army jackets - $120 - now

shaunta clothes - shirt investments - silk shirts - valoure shirts - button up shirts - value - $2,000

shaunta clothes - shirt investments - long sleeve shirts - t shirts - sweat shirts value -  $1,800

shaunta clothes - jeans & pants investments - jeans - jean shorts - leather & suede jeans - casual pants value - $4,000 

shaunta clothes - skirts investments - value - $2,000 - versace - moschino

shaunta clothes - sweat shirts investments - value $1,200

shaunta clothes - dresses investments - value - $1,400

shaunta clothes - scarfs investments - value - $200

shaunta bag of vintage italian sun glasses - value - $4,000 - now - $12,000

shaunta gianni versace black & gold avitar frames

shaunta gianni versace lepoard print & gold frames

shaunta gianni versace white & blue sky frames

shaunta versace purple & silver frames

shaunta fendi butterscotch frames

shaunta burberry frames

shaunta burberry purple aviator frames

shaunta dolce & gabbana gold frames

shaunta gian franco ferre red frames

shaunta roberto cavalli frames

shaunta emmanuelle khanh paris french frames

shaunta boots shoes & sneakers investments - value - $3,000 - via spiga snake skin sandels - mauri gator cinderella sandles - red snake skin charles david boots - gold leather charles david boots - baley leather shoes - baley leather loafers tassells

shaunta leather bags & pocketbooks investments - value - $2,000- coach - barbara milano - hand made jean & leather - pony fur - cheetch fur - zeebra fur - mink fur - suede - white fox fur 

shaunta katrie campbell - shaunta kids jasmin & janyah will:

shaunta daughters jasmin & janyah newborn toddler investment’s

shaunta jasmin & janyah newborn whole crib/bed nursey - $3,000 

shaunta jasmin & janyah white & royal blue & crome royal stroller - $1,400 - custom made diaper bag - crome basket - white walls tires

shaunta jasmin & janyah vintage baby & todler clothes - 2000 - 2008 - $12,000 giveaways - now - $4,000 

shaunta jasmin & janyah toy collectons - doll houses - fisher price - barbies - cabbadge patch’s - the brats - build a bears - stuff animals - smart gadget toys - value - $4,000

shaunta jasmin janyah vintage kid dvd’s - disney - value - $500 - now - $400,000 - original release collecton with original dvd case & paper booklets 

the little mermaid

the grinch

the lion king

sesame street elmo 

ringlum barnum & bailey circus live

barney 

shaunta jasmin janyah vintage kid video tapes - disney - value - $300 - now -  $300,000 - original release collecton with original dvd case & paper booklets - disney - pixar - 

the original barney collecton of 4 original video tapes wit the original purple video tape case

sesame street 

barbie

cat in the hat

strawberry short cake - with the original strawberry pink video tape case cover

garfield

jungle book 2

the cheetah girls

fisher price little people

cabbadge patch kids 

cabbadge patch kids 

the lion king

finding nemo

matilda

the looney toons

stuart little

piglet big movie 

barbie princess diaries

these kid dvd’s & video tapes are worth a fortune now & shauntaake purchased all of these vintage kid videoo tapes from toys r us - best buy - & bj’s 

shaunta jasmin janyah vintage books collecton - 2 harry potter first editon collection - $400,000

harry potter and the coblet of fire 

harry potter and the deathly hallows

shaunta jasmin janyah kid & teenager books collecton - value - $2,000

shaunta dvd collecton - value - $500 - now - $200,000  

these are the first edition collection dvd’s first came out wit the original papers & booklets 

mummy 

new jack city

panic room

a perfect murder

murder by numbers

menace || society

the players club

jaws

shallow hal

enough

waiting to exhale

training day

life

the omen

brown sugar

friday after next

fear dot com

silent hill

wrong turn

texas chainsaw massacre 

rage carrie

school daze 

halloween - special edition dvd collecton with a bonus dvd wit behind the scenes of the making of the first halloween 

shauntaake dvd’s were all purchased at best buy department stores 

shaunta cd collecton - value - $400 - now - $300,000

waiting to exhale

space jam

michael jackson the best of michael jackson cd collection 2 cd’s

jodeci diary of a mad man

usher 8701

britney spears in the zone 

kelis khledoscope 

puff daddy forever

the best of bad boy

mase double up

112 room 112

112 

lil kim hard core

lil kim notorious kim

jay z the blue print

jay & r kelly the best of both worlds 

these are the first edition collection cd’s first came out all of shauntaake cd’s came from best buy department store shauntaake dont have a laut of the original cd booklet covers but the cd is original

shaunta vintage first edition aladin & princess jasmin video tape - disney - $500,000 - the original video tape & video tape case

shaunta vintage the muppette christmas carol video tape - $2,000,000,000 million dollars - the original video tape & video tape case

shaunta vintage rare home taped music videos tape collection - $3,000,000,000 million dollars - music videos - the original mtv trl - the box - commercials - rap city the basement - video music box - video soul - (eary video tape) - 90′s - 3 video tapes 

shaunta vintage rare home taped manhattan new york city full frontal fashion shows - $4,000,000,000 million dollars - (eary video tape) - 90′s - carloina herrerra - ralph lauren - sean john - gucci - 

shaunta vintage rare home taped hollywood movies - 80′s & 90′s - $2,000,000,000 million dollars - 100 plus movies - wild things first released on cable (eary video tape)

shaunta vintage tape cassette collection - value - $1million dollars

many major entertainment superstars - r&b & rap music - with the original tape cassette’s & tape cassette’s covers 

shauntaake hand made vintage tape cassette collecton - $400,000

shaunta mix of all types of music from the 80′s & 90′s - funk master flex live late nights with new york city rappers - vintage hot 97 - vintage wbls 

shaunta vintage vinyl collecton - $5,000

shaunta vintage 1982 vinyl micheal jackson thriller album $5,000,000,000 million dollars - when michael jackson vinyl album first originally came out in 1982

shaunta vintage 1980 vinyl michael jackson off the wall album $$3,000,000,000 million dollars - when michael jackson vinyl album first originally came out in 1980 

shaunta music equipment - value - $1,400 - $2,800

tascam machine - speakers - microphone stand - cd maker 

(shaunta touccheeeese trynna re-make shaunta tascam machine board lauks like shauntaake crash moon landang)

shaunta dell computer - value - $1,200

shaunta vintage magazine value - value - $4,000

the original xxl - source - mauri gators - 

shaunta vintage the 1 & only egyptian roman hyrogylphics stamp collecton - $2,000,000,000 million dollars 

shaunta vintage myrtle school chior flute - $1,200

shaunta vintage blue jays baseball bat from the blue jays baseball stadium in canada - $2,000

shaunta original vintage 1st edition sega genesis video game - $8,000 - (broken but fixable) - 90′s 

sega genesis games - sonic 1 - sonic 2 - street fighter - $2,000

shaunta original vintage 1st edition portable sega genesis video game - $5,000 - (broken but fixable) - 80′s

sega genesis games - sonic - mortal kombat - ren & stempy - $2,000

shaunta original vintage 2 editon nintendo video game - $3,000

(broke but fixable) - 90′s

nintendo games - supermario - supermario go cart - donkey kong 

shaunta katrie campbell - shaunta investments will: 

shaunta & sean taylor shauntaake investment years - $42,400

shaunta overall investment years - $48,520 to be continued